#I feel like I'm writing a high school essay

[isnt-it-pretty]

I've been reflecting a lot recently on my reaction to the news stories I often see about the dangers of technology and social media, laws banning of cell phones during school hours, school divisions banning technology, the rise of teenage depression as a result of social media, etc. I've always felt defensive over technology when I see these stories, and I think I've realized why.

As a disabled person, my relationship with technology is different than a lot of people's. I use an ereader, for example, because I have low vision and find the font in physical books too small to read. I use the notes app on my phone instead of hand writing things because it's easier on my joints. I keep my cross stitch patterns as PDFs because I can zoom in to see the stitches I need, which I can't do when it's printed out. Even in high school I brought my personal laptop to type out essays because there was a 20% grade difference in essays I typed vs wrote by hand, and whenever I see classrooms banning all technology, I think about that. I write thousands of words for creative writing on my phone because I'm too fatigued to get out of bed. I learned to read because of audiobooks taken out as CDs from the library, something I now have access to in an app. As somebody who is housebound, my entire social life is on my phone. It's how survive, how I create.

If you were to take technology from me, I would be bereft, and not because of an addiction. Technology is simply something I use to navigate the world. Disabled people just like me have lived and loved and created (and still do!) without it, but that doesn't change that I rely on technology to do things I couldn't otherwise do. I never would have learned to read beyond maybe a middle school level without audiobooks. I never would have learned to write without word processors, both of which are a major part of my identity.

Technology, to me, is accessibility, and sometimes that feels forgotten in the sweeping condemnation of it. My defensiveness can sometimes make me overlook the real issues it causes for others, just like for others the problems it causes can make them overlook how necessary it is for some of us. I can't help but think about all I gain from it and where I would be now if I hadn't had access to what I did as a child. I see the harm technology can cause children and even still I wonder, as we condemn parents for ipads and schools for over relying on computers, how many others there are like me who don't even know what they need to ask for.

It's a complicated topic, and like most complicated topics, it gets broken dowm into bite sized pieces. The nuance gets lost.

[bookrat]

What is murderbots and why should I read/listen

The Murderbot Diaries is a sci-fi series by Martha Wells mostly taking place in a dystopian capitalist future. Basically, the viewpoint character is a company-manufactured private security guard rented out to the managers of space! company towns.

After hacking its governor module, nothing much changes about its life for several years until a routine job turns deadly and it's forced to trust a group of humans with its secret in order for any of them to survive.

First paragraph:

I could have become a mass murderer after I hacked my governor module, but then I realized I could access the combined feed of entertainment channels carried on the company satellites. It had been well over 35,000 hours or so since then, with still not much murdering, but probably, I don’t know, a little under 35,000 hours of movies, serials, books, plays, and music consumed. As a heartless killing machine, I was a terrible failure.

Synopsis aside, the books are fast-paced, fun, and hopeful; and Kevin R. Free has great voices for all the characters.

If you liked the Imperial Radch series, speculative sci-fi relevant to our current late-stage capitalism problems, or are a fan of non-human perspective in fiction, Murderbot is for you.

[writterings]

me with my 18 year old students that i teach at a college

[pandora15]

okay but have y'all considered

obi-wan kenobi

[thebrokengate]

The Record of Stan Frederick: A Study of Amendments

This is an analysis that is long overdue. If there’s anyone in the world that could tell you how much I love The Record of Stan Frederick, it’s my best friend whose ear I’ve talked off endlessly about it, and they would probably tell you that Amendments is not only my favorite episode of the series, but also that it’s my favorite Slenderverse video of all time. If anyone who hasn’t experienced the Slenderverse asked me to show them one video from it that would paint them a picture of what the spirit of this universe is all about, this is the one I would point them to, because its characters, story, and editing encapsulate everything that I’ve loved about the Slenderverse for years all in one episode. I believe that Amendments is not only just a brilliantly made episode among many others in The Record of Stan Frederick, but it is also crucial to our understanding of the narrative, of what both separates and brings together our primary protagonist and antagonist, how the events of each character’s lives and how they felt about them affected their choices, and how the overall story of this series promotes the cautionary tale of not letting yourself fall into perpetuating the cycle of violence.

This is a case study of Amendments.

In the context of The Record of Stan Frederick, the dictionary meaning of the episode’s title would be defined as “a change made by correction, addition, or deletion” as our protagonist Stan Frederick’s goal in this particular video is to correct his error of putting off stopping his ex-partner in crime, Connor Dwight, from hurting the people around Stan when he had known how to stop Connor for at least a year. Stan put everyone else’s monsters ahead of his own, which only led to further destruction that could have been avoided—yet another huge mistake that cost him greatly. With his metaphorical will to live gone when he lost Willow, a child Stan was trying to help who was being hunted by the monsters known as Seedeaters, who manipulated her sister Dana to give her over to them—an event that Connor had a hand in tricking Stan over after being given Willow’s death prophecy by another monster known as the Rake, in which Connor proceeded to give Stan a warning ahead of time that other characters they knew could be the next to die, but never gave Willow’s name as an option—Stan finally worked up the nerve to take care of him once and for all.

Stan returns to his childhood home years after the loss of his little brother Erik and his parents, the place still as empty as it was then, save for the monster who took them all, standing at the top of the stairs waiting for him like it had never left. The Slenderman, as we know him, a monster who Stan used to fear so much and once gave into survival to appease it, and now Stan needs its help. It’s such a cruel twist of fate when he had taken everything from Stan in the past, and he has to question it: Can the monster feel emotions like pain or fear, and do the things that it does mean anything in relation to what it is? The reality of this question is to wonder if this faceless being who never speaks its mind has any level of consciousness humans can understand. Is it just a monster meant to prey on people like an animal for its own survival? Is it meant to play games with the mind until its victims are broken and nothing more? Is it something so far removed from us? Or is it like us at all, able to understand the horrors it puts humanity through, but does it anyway? Could it ever have felt the pain that Stan felt every time it took someone from him, and could it have ever understood him? But they’re questions that never come with an answer. It does what it does and that’s all we know.

But there is one other thing that Stan knows: how to please it. He makes a deal with Slenderman, not a far cry from making a deal with the Devil, that if he would make Connor human again so that he can be killed, Stan would let Slenderman take him in return. Turning the corner up the stairs, Stan finds that Slenderman has disappeared at the request, and at first believes that this was a denial of the offer on the monster’s part, only to look back down the stairs and see him now at the bottom instead. The deal Stan made effectively reversed their roles where Slenderman went from being both literally and metaphorically above him to being below him, showing that Stan now is the one who has control over the monster, it doing his bidding instead of the other way around—a relatively uncommon thing for a protagonist of the Slenderverse to make happen. This is one of the many things that makes The Record of Stan Frederick unique in general, because the story is told from the perspective of someone who has already been through this and knows the monster’s behavioral patterns instead of someone who has never had these experiences before.

With his deal accepted by the monster, Stan enters his old bedroom with only his camera that he sets up on the windowsill, and Connor’s gun. For a moment as he loads the gun, he thinks back on the last conversation he had with his brother Erik the day Slenderman took him, a memory that we as the audience also hear, before putting the gun to his head which lures Connor out. The trigger is pulled and despite the gun being loaded, no bullet comes out, because Stan isn’t allowed to die. The Rake still owes him for having given Connor to him years ago, and Connor can’t kill him because he’s under the Rake’s protection. Similarly, Connor can’t be killed in his current form as what’s known as a corruptelam—an echo of a person much like that of a ghost that can be left behind when a monster consumes a human. So with the two of them now standing face to face, both unable to be killed by the other, they’re finally at a stalemate. This is also reflected in the framing of the scene in which neither character stands above or below the other, showing that they are currently equals, unlike before for example in the episode People where Connor stands over Stan and Serena after fighting them off.

This is when Stan tries to appeal to Connor’s emotions, asking him if he remembers when they first met and saying that he knows Connor forgot a lot of things. It’s unspecified just how much Connor did forget as the type of corruptelams Stan had described the Rake leaving behind being echoes of the body rather than the mind, the type which Connor is, but we do know that day was one of the things he seems to have forgotten. Stan reminds him that they were once just kids in the foster system, both afraid of the same monster and the only ones who seemed to have been followed by it, which is when they clicked. And interestingly enough, for a second, Connor almost seems… sad. He bows his head and stares at the floor, and Stan mirrors the same position. Mirroring someone’s behavior in psychology is often a sign of empathy, giving the other person a non-verbal sign of connection and understanding, and it’s often something subconsciously done in our every day social environments. It shows that both of them are in sync, engaged in the same discussion and nostalgia of the past they endured together.

Stan didn’t know anything about Connor back then, certainly not what he was capable of becoming, but he knew even less about what he himself would become and what they would become together. Fear drove them both to survival, as equally guilty in what they did as they are in their equal inability to die. It’s what they both wanted at one point, to be able to live without that fear. To want to survive is human; when we’re faced with death, most of us will do anything to stop it, just as they did. But sometimes we go about it in a way that brings harm to others. Sometimes we become selfish creatures and throw others to the weeds if it means we’ll get a good night’s sleep. The truth is, the only thing that makes Stan better than Connor here is the fact that he woke up one day and realized he didn’t want to live that way anymore, to hurt others to keep himself safe. They’ve both been victims and they’ve both been perpetrators, but only Stan broke that cycle.

Stan then lifts the gun and points it at Connor, who reminds him that Stan can’t kill him. Stan replies that he knows because Connor is a corruptelam, the phenomena which he had named himself, to which Connor points out that he finds this whole situation embarrassing. This moment and the moment before are so surprisingly human, taking a step back and looking at the portrayal of Connor’s character up until this point as an otherwise threatening and intimidating figure. But, being completely unphased by the gun, Stan wonders if Connor had forgotten that, too—how to be scared, knowing now that he can’t be killed as a corruptelam and feeling that nothing bad would ever happen to him again because he’s something stronger than a human now. This conversation perfectly mirrors Stan’s earlier questions to Slenderman of if he can feel emotions and if the awful things he does have any purpose relative to his being, because Connor has truly become their own monster: perpetuating the cycle of violence, taking what he can from Stan to hurt him, and now unable to die. He’s forgotten the times that he used to lie awake in bed every night, terrified that their monster would come back again and harm him, and that’s something he outright tells Stan. “You move on. You make it better for yourself. You forget!” he argues. “No, you don’t! You don’t forget that,” Stan responds. “I certainly don’t. I forgot a lot… But I would never fucking forget that.” 

To remember our fears, in Stan’s eyes, is what keeps us human. It’s what reminds us that other people in our own personal situations have the same feelings as us, and makes us ask what right we have to make them suffer while we find peace. What makes us our monsters is not the hardships we face, but the hell we choose to make others go through to feel better about ourselves, and we have to be careful not to cross that line. We are all as capable of continuing the cycles of torment we experience as we are capable of breaking them, and Connor unfortunately never did.

It’s at this point that Stan allows Slenderman to complete his request, to turn back the clock and make Connor human again. Connor falls to his knees before his monster and screams as Slenderman does this, remaining on his knees even when it’s over and Stan points his gun at the back of Connor’s head. This scene shows that their stalemate has finally been broken with Stan now being above Connor rather than on equal ground with him. Connor begins to make one final plea for his life, but Stan cuts him off by shooting him, ending his life for real this time. Blood covers the screen, hiding Stan’s face from view as he too falls to his knees, now becoming his monster himself. We can no longer see his expressions beyond the blood, we don’t know his exact thoughts, if he feels better for taking Connor out of the world so he can’t hurt anyone else, or if he feels more grief for having to take his life with his own hands this time around—having also been stated in one of the book excerpts to have hated himself for giving Connor over to the Rake originally—or if he’s feeling some strange mixture of both. We don’t know what his emotions are toward that action in that moment, just as we don’t know what Slenderman’s emotions may be when he hurts people, if he even has any at all. There’s only emptiness left in the silent room that we as the audience feel, until Stan leaves Connor’s body behind for the Rake to find and goes back downstairs to accept his fate in giving himself over to Slenderman, completing their arranged deal.

Except he doesn’t.

As Slenderman tries to take him, Stan talks back, explaining how Slenderman used to be so huge and terrifying to him as a kid, and how he took everything from him. He asks the monster then if he really thought that Stan was going to let him take him too before using the same gun he had just killed Connor with to shoot himself, finally able to die as he was no longer in the Rake’s good graces. A body for a body. And not to get all David Kushner’s Daylight here, but that gun, too, is a metaphor for how Stan and Connor drinking poison from the same vine of survival led them both to their deaths. It was Connor who owned the gun first, the person who also initially suggested the idea of sacrificing other kids to their monster in return for their own peace, which Stan agreed to. The blood from the same deal they made was always on both of their hands, but Connor choosing to share that poison with Stan made Stan his own undoing from the beginning as he would always be the one to stop Connor. The awful truth is, if not for Stan, Connor’s way of surviving may have been proven to always work. It’s a horrible way to go, but no one else ever brought him down. If Connor truly wanted to survive in that way, picking Stan as his survival partner was the wrong move, unbeknownst to him at the start. The gun is a symbolic reflection in this scenario of Stan’s original plans when he had initially accepted Connor’s proposal of harvesting—that he was going to poison his and Connor’s cups of coffee which would kill them both, stopping Connor from going through with perpetuating the cycle of violence and ending his own life because he never stopped feeling guilt and grief from losing his brother to Slenderman.

The narrative actively punishes Stan whenever he chooses to live, and fate seems to scream that he has always been meant to die that day with Connor before they could ever do any of the horrible things they did together. Whether that be the time he handed Connor off to the Rake and got to live again only to be stuck trying to make up for their mistakes, or this time in Amendments when Stan returns as a corruptelam for one last try at making something of his life and he loses the last of the people that he loved, it’s always a punishment that he doesn’t die. He committed unforgivable sins that he could find no redemption for unless it was to choose death, and there was never another option to redeem him. The tragedy of The Record of Stan Frederick is like something out of a Shakespearian play, that there is no atonement and no end to Stan’s suffering unless he dies when all he wanted to do before was get out alive—just as his favorite song said. Amendments perfectly conveys the message of this story like no other, that becoming your own monster can only lead you down two paths: one of a never-ending cycle of hurting others to feel better about yourself, or one of never-ending regret. There’s no hope in that cycle. But there is hope in reaching out to others for help when you need it, and that is part of the message, too. After all, it’s Stan who tells his support group in the episode titled Support Group that they have each other and tells them how important that connection is. The support of those going through the same troubles as us is meant to lift us up, to help us survive together in a positive way, not to abuse and exploit it as Stan and Connor once did. It’s up to all of us to decide which path we’ll choose, and it’s up to us alone to accept the responsibility of those actions—just as Stan finally did.

[thawthebeez]

hey guys. tumblr user thawthebeez back at it again with yet another haikyuu essay B) the topic of today is one that i see NOBODY talking about which is crazy because this motif is (in my opinion) one of the main foundations of the kagehina community.

now may someone please explain to me why the HELL nobody ever talks about how whenever Tobio expresses an insecurity of ANY KIND, Hinata is ALWAYS the first one to swoop in and tell him not to worry about it?

yes, we've all established that Hinata Shouyou is the #1 Kageyama Tobio understander. we get that. BUT THIS IS ONE OF THE MAIN DISPLAYS OF THAT AND I'VE SEEN LITERALLY NOBODY SPEAK OF IT EVER.

i'm pretty sure there's an instance of it in season 2 (either that or my brain just made it up) when Tobio is a little worried about his and Hinata's quick attack not really working out but Hinata tells him "nah you'll figure it out eventually" or something along those lines. i'm not going to lose my shit over it because i can't find it but if you know YOU KNOW.

a part that i COULD find from season 2, however, was this:

here we have Tobio explaining how talented of a setter Oikawa is- how he's so much better than him- and it's clear that this is something he's insecure about given his facial expression.

THEN we have Hinata's INSTANT response:

and it blows Tobio away because WHAT

because, to paraphrase a little, Tobio basically just said "yeah oikawa can make any spiker look good no matter what team he's on" to which Hinata replied "yeah but that team wouldn't be Karasuno" which is essentially "Karasuno is strong enough as it is" BUT- if ur crazy- " dw he wouldn't take your spot babe" (<- which probably isn't how it's meant to be interpreted because they just finished talking about The Team That's Stronger As Six thing so like... context clues. it's probably not the insane interpretation).

ANYWAYS boom there it is. Tobio expresses insecurity, Shouyou swoops in and goes "Ermmmm Actuallyyyyy🤓" WHICH IS SO FUCKING ENDEARING ON IT'S OWN BUT THE FACT THAT IT HAPPENS MORE THAN ONCE AND AT SUCH A CRITICAL POINT TOO

the critical point in question being:

(context: Tobio just came back from his training camp in Tokyo and is a little frustrated because he's gotten so used to playing with other prodigies like himself so to go back to talented-but-not-prodigious players is a bit of a switch for him. don't get him wrong tho he loves this team to DEATH it's just a little different that's all. hashtag number one Tobio apologist right here)

SO THERE'S THIS! and it goes without saying that Tobio is DEEPLY insecure about his late middle-school days and being referred to as a king. Tsukishima adds a little salt to the wound and while I didn't take a screenshot of it Tobio makes this look of absolute HORROR after he says what he says

(which, side note, shows a lot of a character development within Tobio. especially since I've been flipping between season 2 and 4 a lot looking for these clips. Tobio didn't even notice when he was acting kingly before but he realizes it INSTANTLY now which is so so so good for him yayyyy character development!)

this also leads fantastically into my next tangent which is

TOBIO FUCKING APOLOGIZES!

now, admittedly this isn't entirely related to my thesis but i absolutely ADORE talking about this scene and i genuinely think it is one of the most prevalent displays of character development within Tobio because i feel like he tends to get overshadowed by all the other characters (especially Hinata, which i'm not upset about in the slightest like it makes perfect sense and if Tobio got all the attention all the time the show would be soooo unbalanced)

but I feel like a lot of people skip over Tobio's overall development over the course of the show. I mean compare s1 Tobio to s4 Tobio THAT IS NOT SAME PERSON ANYMORE. he grows so much over such a short period of time (which is another essay I could write. something along the lines of "Explaining Why Tobio And Shouyou Need To Be On Separate Teams Actually Because Character Development Purposes" because the amount of people i've seen on tiktok complaining about kghn being on separate teams and how they should just be on the same team forever makes my blood boil violently) and it's so refreshing to see Tobio's growth especially as a big Tobio enjoyer.

ANYWAYS back to the main thesis.

So Hinata steps in IMMEDIATELY here. literally cuts Tobio's apology off because HE HAS NOTHING TO APOLOGIZE FOR. he was expressing his thoughts whatever that's fine he could have done it in a nicer way SURE but listen the guy still has a LOOOONNNGGGG way to go but still, nothing to apologize for. it's just growing pains, y'know?

now the quote "What's wrong with him being the King again?" appearing here isn't the first time we're seeing this. Hinata has ALWAYS been confused as to why calling Tobio a "King" is a bad thing. literally from day fucking one Hinata was like "nah dude I think that title is cool" WHICH, AGAIN, TOBIO BEING INSECURE ABOUT SOMETHING AND SHOUYOU REASSURING HIM THAT IT'S TOTALLY CHILL HELLO?????

LITERALLY FROM DAY ONE SHOUYOU HAS BEEN DOING THIS. THAT MAN MAY THINK TOBIO'S AN ASSHOLE SOMETIMES (and he kinda is) BUT NEVER WILL HINATA INHERENTLY HATE A PART OF HIM. and i don't think they realize it here nor do i think the realization comes soon after but at some point there will be the realization that they love each other. every single part. fucking Tobio probably realized it way back in junior high but that's a tangent for another time.

now this line.... this one right here...... oh my god i can be SO NORMAL ABOUT IT.

the main reason why Tobio had this look of HORROR on his face after he yelled at everyone was BECAUSE HE KNEW THE ENDING. he knew that yelling at them would have consequences (if it weren't for Hinata stepping in thank god). HE'S SEEN IT ALL BEFORE. in his final year of junior high he yelled at his teammates to run faster and jump higher and be better AND THEY LEFT HIM!!!

so Tobio yelling like this instantly makes him afraid that he's just ruined the entire balance of the team. he thinks he's going to be left behind again because he yelled and everyone is going to leave him BUT!!!!!

BUT SHOUYOU IMMEDIATELY JUMPS IN AND SAYS "idc what u say honestly if i don't like i'm just not gonna listen" OR, TO TRANSLATE "i'm not going anywhere regardless of what you say"

Tobio's biggest fear is losing this team. I literally do not need to explain why. that man would fucking DIE for this team (if you really need an explanation just to go the end of the Kamomedai match when Tobio admits that he's upset they lost because he wanted to play with that specific team more).

and for Hinata to essentially say "you could literally be as kingly as u want and i simply would not care, pal, i promise you i am NOT going ANYWHERE!!!" which has got to be SO FUCKING RELIEVING FOR TOBIO.

(also something something "nobody was there" / "i'm here" something something "doesn't matter what kind of toss goes up if you send it my way i'm hitting it" something something they're soulmates or whatever they are literally bound together by the universe they were destined to be together and it's a crime that universe kept them apart for so long and now that they're together they will always BE together two peas in a pod literally inseparable they are hot glued and duct taped together.)

and then there's this. i mean at this point you already know what i'm going to say like you get it by now but again IT MUST BE SO RELIEVING TO TOBIO to know that shouyou thinks his biggest insecurity is cool. that shouyou thinks that it's not something to be concerned about. that no matter what, no matter how much a King he is, they're not going anywhere.

SOMETHING SOMETHING "you drew stars around my scars" IF YOU EVEN CARE

and just the fact that it's always ALWAYS shouyou to do this. the fact that there was dead silence before shouyou spoke up. the fact that it's ALWAYS HIM there to understand Tobio (someone who has been misunderstood for as long as he can remember) GOD THEY DRIVE ME INSANE.

anyways thank you for being a witness to this madness👍

[viktortittiforov]

the 2010s sure were a time in my life

[sid-noxious]

so who else hit the strict transmed to genderfucked-example-of-who-you-would've-made-fun-of pipeline

[astralis-ortus]

it feels impossible (it's not impossible)

✱ bestfriend!bc × gn!reader

— 'cause you are the one i was meant to find.

w.count → 2k genre → romcom, fluff warnings → minor cussing (as per usual, heh), chan refered to as chris a.n → i'm usually not the type to write this long simply because i'm easily distracted and have the tendency to abandon projects, but hey! this one prevails :] hopefully next time i can write even longer fics<3 ⋆ see masterlist

honestly, you thought you were going crazy when the same melody restarted on chris’ speaker for the nth time today. it’s not that the song is bad—you do actually love ‘rewrite the stars’. you’re a fan of the movie, much like chris is, but putting the song on loop? for hours a day? for weeks? your sense of fanship isn’t that strong, especially when the song’s been out in circulation for years now.

“you wanna hear a theory?”

your question easily turns chris’ focus away from the endless papers he had to grade by the end of the day and towards you, raising an eyebrow to the sudden break of silence. his eyes visibly twinkled, contemplating if he should entertain the idea of putting on his regular-26-year-old suit over the professional-high-school-teacher ones he’d been in for the past couple hours or so.

well, to be fair, chris hasn't even been focusing on the pages of essays he needed to check. not when his mind has been preoccupied with something—someone­—else.

“shoot,” he eventually replied with a lopsided smile etched on his lips—head cocked to the side when he finally decided to shut the screen of his decorated silver laptop, offering you his entire attention. “it better be funny or entertaining, considering i’m risking losing my hearing to my kids’ complaints for not returning their papers on time tomorrow.”

“oooh, pressure,” you mocked, a wide grin appearing on your face while you try to ignore the rush of tingles under your skin when you noticed the way chris referred to his students as ‘my kids’—something he’d always done and so do you, but somehow had a different effect on you as of recent. “believe me, it’s something fun,” you hummed with a shrug, mirroring chris as you set your laptop aside.

chris’ pair of charming dimples came into view upon your confident reply, fully immersed in the stage you’re setting up. fabric of his gray couch, one where you two had been slowly melting into for a few hours now, gently rustled when chris fixed his posture, less from lazing around and more into focusing on you and whatever nonsense he believed you were going to say. the glint in his eyes grew brighter by the second, both from anticipation and excitement.

“tell me.”

it felt like spring—when the flowers were in bloom, the breeze was blowing ever-so-gently against your warm cheeks, and the swarm of butterflies were surrounding you with its pairs of fluttering wings.

chris made you feel like spring.

“gee, tone down the excitement, mr. bahng,” you inadvertently shifted away, silently praying to whatever force ruling the universe that chris wasn’t aware of the way your heartbeat spiked to his playful grin. “don’t want to disappoint you there.”

”as if you could ever,” chris promptly refuted with a chuckle, chin resting on the palm of his hand. the way his playful gaze was directed right at you, framed by those loose curls of his, proved to cause your heart more problems than ease. “the ever-so-perfect you? a disappointment? really?”

”oh shut up,” you groaned, half wanting to wipe the cocky smirk off his face—or…?

”but then—if you say so, do tell me,” frown on your forehead instantly dissipates, replaced by a mirror of his lopsided grin when you figured you could turn the bullet right back at its owner,

“am i perfectly on point when i say you’re in love?”

despite the slight pang on your heart, you couldn’t help but giggle at the way his face fades into surprise, a shade of blush slowly creeping on the top of his cheekbones.

the topic of love was never really something you discussed with chris. sure, you two met each other in college where hormones were bursting through the roof, but neither you or chris was interested in dating anyone—you with your slowly budding crush on chris, and chris with… god-knows-what he’s interested in. you never pried, for the sake of not making things awkward. that's your norm, and how you’ve spent your last 7 years with chris.

you and chris remained friends, which at some point evolved into best friends (you now, by the hey-i’m-bored-at-2am-let’s-hang kind of standard), and somehow, you two happened to land a teaching job within the same district around the same time. chris went to teach a reputable high school in the area, while you pursue your dream of teaching kids. you hang out at each other’s place every other day, despite the time you spent together consists mostly of being nose-deep in your respective workload.

the topic of love still was something foreign—you wouldn’t deliberately bring it up other than around the occasions when wedding invites stopped by yours or chris’ doorstep.

maybe, it’s time to change that.

”…huh?”

chris is thoroughly perplexed.

”oh come on, don’t even try to lie,” with a smile decorated with victory, you finally teased the man across. “it’s all written on your face, you know,” you continued, fingers gesturing to your own, “but also, your choice of song. god, do you even listen to anything else when you're in love?”

“but i'm not!” he yelped, facepalming himself upon realizing the shift in his tone is a dead giveaway of his true voice. “god—no. i'm not,” he added meekly, shaking his head, “you know i love the song. that's all.”

”fair enough,” acknowledging his plea, you briefly nod, “but that doesn’t justify the way you’ve been keeping the song on repeat! and don’t you think i don’t remember the few other occurrences when you did the same, because i knew for a fact that something happened every time you became distant after going through this rewrite the stars cycle!”

if his face were flushed before, then you’d categorize this new shade apparent on the tip of his ear as a what-the-fuck-i’m-screwed kind of blush and frankly, seeing this new side of him kind of made you regret not bringing the topic up sooner.

”you remembered?” his voice sounded more of a squeak rather than a proper question, still hiding behind the safety of his palms. “no you don’t! that was ages ago!”

”so things did happen!” your grin turned into a laugh, drowning chris’ groan and series of disapproving no when he realized he just bit into your colorful, glimmering bait. “gosh—why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone? i was kinda hurt whenever that happened you know,” you purse your lips dramatically, “i lost a friend to talk to and never exactly know the reason why until today.”

“oh,” chris blinked, finally looking right at you with a puzzled gaze, “you… were? i mean—i’m sorry i hurt you. for the record, i wasn’t dating anyone. i just kinda assumed, you know, since you were dating someone else anyway i thought—“

”hold up—“ both statements rolling off of chris’ lips inadvertently made you hold up a hand, stopping the latter on his tracks. ”what?”

now both of you are puzzled.

you? dating someone?

”i just wanted to give you space,” chris reiterated, hand now awkwardly resting on his equally red nape, “figured you’d want that since me being around will likely bring trouble for you and the person you were dating.”

”but… i haven’t dated anyone since we became friends?”

you’re thoroughly confused.

”wait, what?” chris shook his head in disbelief, “what do you mean you haven’t dated anyone? what about the notes? and the flowers? and the chocolates too! what do you—what do you mean?”

nevermind, now you’re thoroughly confused.

”the ones from back in college?” your memories were not exactly as clear as you expected it to be, but you do remember receiving those gifts a few times due to its absurdity. “that was all from the rich ass kid i tutored! the one who i told you kept teasing me about never receiving any valentine's day gift? that kid? they sent me those gifts as a prank!”

“…what?”

the amount of ‘what’ you two have said in the past few exchanges is ridiculous.

”god—you thought i’ve been dating and never told you?” you finally pieced the puzzle together, incredulous. “and that’s why you distanced yourself? dude, are you serious?”

”well i just assumed!” chris raised his hands in defense, equally as incredulous as you are, “to be fair, those are usually gifts you get for someone you like! how am i supposed to know it’s from the kid you tutored? you never tried to told me!”

”you could’ve asked?” you stated, as-a-matter-of-factly. sometimes, despite that brilliant brain of his, chris could be quite the foolish one between the two of you. “besides, i thought you knew! you literally read the cards!”

”wha—how do you expect me to digest any of that when i was under the assumption someone i like is dating someone else!”

silence befalls chris’ usually cozy living room, leaving the soft resounding melody that hadn’t stopped as the only sound filling up the space. you’re not even sure if your ears were actually catching the right words falling from his lips; it felt too much like a fever dream. judging from the way his eyes turned wide, however,

you might have heard him correctly.

”you… like me?”

you never imagined you’d piece those words together, much less directing them towards chris. hell, even by remaining as friends was enough for you—having him to yourself was not something you thought would ever happen in this lifetime. you’re happy as you were; you’re content with being friends.

chris, on the other hand, is still visibly trying to digest the events that just unfolded around him. from the misunderstanding to unintentionally confessing his feelings, this was not how he expected his Sunday evening to be. all he wanted to do was be near the one person he’d been secretly nurturing his feelings for, praying that maybe one day he’d finally muster up the courage before everything was too late—but this was not how he expected things to turn out.

”i’m sorry,” he finally croaked, breaking the suffocating silence whilst also being too embarrassed to even look you in the eye, “i know it’s weird—from the misunderstanding to, you know, what i said. i never intended for you to find out about it this way. i understand that you don’t feel the same way, it’s okay, you—“

”oh shut up,” you capped his ramblings short, catching chris off guard. it’s not often you cut him off when he speak, so when you do, he knew you meant it.

“just, what?” you sighed, fingers begin massaging the throb on your temple. it’s hard to decipher what you’re currently feeling as a whole, but one thing you know for sure— you’re especially bothered by his last statement.

“chris, how would you even know what i feel if you’ve never even asked me?”

you watched through his pair of curious eyes as thoughts ran inside his mind, slowly deciphering what you meant with the sudden calmness in your voice.

“uh,” finally managing the train of assumptions in his head, chris then looked at you—only now, with a glimmer of hope reflected in his eyes, “do you... like me? like, more than just friends?”

and to that, you finally nodded.

“yeah, you dumbass. for the longest time.”

watching the way chris’ smile bloom easily turned you into another smiling mess—not missing the giggles nor the flush on your cheeks and all. It feels dumb, realizing that you’ve been into each other for forever but never realizing it because of some stupid misunderstanding.

“and i like you too,” chris reiterated, his goofy smile erasing any trace of worry that was present on his face just a second ago. honest to god—you thought you were falling in love all over again for chris.

“in that case...” he shrugged before outstretching a hand, trying his best to play things cool despite the growing excitement in his eyes,

“will you officially be my partner in crime?”

sound of your laugh only fuels the warmth spreading within chris’ heart—and it felt like the way he spent all those countless nights, wishing that one day the stars would eventually align for him finally paid off as you held his hand in yours, smiling brighter than any stars ever discovered.

“gladly.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[queers-gambit]

When The World Seems So Cruel

prompt: ( requested ) Billy knows something's bothering his girl, so, he follows his instincts and checks on her - family, friends, and slutty cheerleaders in bikinis be damned.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.1k+

warnings: cursing, smut 'cause why not, boys being assholes 'cause they're losers, misogyny, toxic / abusive / neglectful family, description of background violence, angst, did Cherry really write it if there wasn't a helluva lot of projection and need for revocation of internet access?

"Miss Cahill? I'm sorry to interrupt," you half-smiled at your math professor, "but I was just wondering if you still had my test? I never got mine back."

"Right," she cleared her throat, glancing around your body to see most of the class empty at that point. "I wanted to talk to you about that," she paused to pull out your test from a manilla folder. "I was very shocked to grade this under your name, honey, you're usually such a well-focused and high-achievin' student, I mean, you're on track for the Nat Scholarship! So, to see this... Was shockin', it's... Not your best work," she winced, handing the packet over.

You blinked in shock, frowning as anxiety mounted in your chest when you saw the glaring F in red marker. You mumbled in embarrassment, "I guess I've just been off my game..."

"Honey," Miss Cahill sighed in her light country accent, leaning on her desk with both fists so your eyes met hers, "I can always tell when one of my students is goin' through somethin' at home."

You froze, shaking your head, "No, no, it's not... It's not so bad."

"What's goin' on?"

You shrugged, "I've just been... Really tired," you decided on excusing, hoping beyond hope it was enough.

It wasn't, of course it wasn't. Miss Cahill just sighed and offered, "I can let you retake the test next week - but only after you go see the guidance counselor."

"Right... Um, yeah, okay, yeah, sounds good; um, thanks, Miss Cahill."

You made an escape, distracted by the third failing test you received this week; nearly barreling straight into a meaty, solid chest. "Woah, hey, no need to run 'round lookin' for the man of your dreams, I'm right here, doll," Billy teased, hands grabbing your upper arms to steady you. "What's got you inna rush, baby? You know I pick you up after this class."

You smiled in brief distraction, "Yeah, sorry, baby, I was just thinking about this essay coming up. Hi," you offered, stretching up on your toes to kiss him in greeting. "How're you?"

He half-smirked, "I'm good, you know Mr. Brunson's got a stick up his ass as usual."

"Mhm. As usual, and totally has nothing to do with you provoking him," you teased, latching onto his waist as you shoved your test deep in your shoulder-bag. You neared his locker, and you managed to choke out, "Hey, um... Y-You wanna get outta here?"

Billy offered you a look of mild confusion, smirking with a strange laugh, "You wanna ditch school?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"I'm just tired," you offered meekly, "I feel like I haven't slept in a week."

Billy lead you up to his locker, hand on your waist to keep you close as he mused, "This feels like a setup."

"It's not, I promise."

He yanked the metal door open, "Uh-huh. You told me when I met you that I'd have to practically kidnap you to get you to skip class. Huh? 'Member all that? All them lectures you gave me 'bout the importance of goin' t'class if I wanna do anything after this shithole?"

"Yeah, but things change, Bee."

Billy's face dropped, shoving his books into his open locker before turning, leaning his shoulder on the locker next to his, arms crossed as he stared at you. "What's wrong?" He questioned sharply.

"Billy, I'm just tired."

"No, it's something else. What's wrong? What's goin' on?"

You sighed, "You know what? It's okay, nevermind, I actually promised Eddie that I'd help him make those banners for SGA during lunch today, so," you glanced around, "I'm gonna go."

"Nah, baby, hol' up, I ain't mean - "

"I know, handsome," you promised softly, nodding as you reached for his waist to give a squeeze and keep him close. "I just forgot I told a friend I'd help them out, so, I'll just see you after, yeah?"

One hand rose to pet over your cheek, sighing, "You sure you're good? You don't look okay, sugar."

"I'm good," you nodded, deflating into his embrace and hearing him chuckle. "I'm just stretched thin this week, probably shouldn't make promises to my delinquent friends with all the college drama to worry about."

"What'd Munson do this time to only get banner-duty? Huh?"

"Probably got caught skipping or something," you mumbled against his pectoral; inhaling the scent of his mall-bought cologne and finding it a refreshing change from the CVS-brand he used when you first met. "School did something right by makin' everyone in detention serve the SGA for all their shit."

"Definitely got me to shape up," he joked, pecking the top of your head before finishing, "but I mostly missed out on time with you."

"Hey... I was thinking, maybe I can come over this weekend? Keep Max company, maybe keep Neil at bay? Can have a sleepover, too, if you want."

Now Billy's head cocked and his expression hardened, "The fuck you wanna come over for? You know how tense shit gets - "

"Billy."

"Nah, you're not makin' sense, pretty girl," he snapped, pulling back to stare down at you. "What's going on with you? You don't wanna be at home or something? The fuck's goin' on that's so bad you'd rather be at my place?"

You felt tongue tied, but the bell rang shrilly and literally saved you from needing to answer. "Shit, I gotta run, baby. I'll find you later, okay?" You promised, lifting onto your toes to kiss him, promising, "I love you."

He frowned, grumbling, "Yeah, love you, too." He watched you vacate the hall, his mind basically going blank to all other thought beside you. The entire lunch period, he sat on the hood of his car, chain smoking, wondering where he went wrong; what he did to upset you; what could be going on and most importantly, why you couldn't say anything to him about it.

However, after lunch, Billy found you in the library's designated SGA room and thought you appeared ten times as relaxed, laughing with Eddie Munson. When the punk caught Billy's eye, he nodded in respect; gesturing for you to look, and your head turned with a smile. You parted from Eddie and trotted up to Billy, feeling relieved when he grabbed you in a possessive hold; searing his lips to yours.

"Hi," you giggled.

"You seem happy."

"Kinda hard to be in a bad mood around Eddie."

"I can see," he lead you away. He wanted to bring back up about whatever was bothering you, but didn't; fearing ruining your joyful mood. Instead, his fingers just tangled with yours and you entered history together.

What should've been a decently peaceful class turned into a state of confusion for you and Billy when the intercom kicked on, the front office asking for your presence with the principal. Billy glared at the speaker box as you cast him a look of doubt, both confused by the summons; being all too used to them calling his name instead. All of history passed miserably; Billy alone without his favorite person to keep him on track and becoming antsy the longer you were gone. When you didn't return by the end of class, he grabbed anything you left and begrudgingly went to the last two classes of the day.

When the final bell rang, Billy waited for you at his car for a solid 25 minutes with several cigarettes being burned, but when you still didn't show, he grew worried. So, he stored everything in his Camaro, not needing to worry about his sister because Max got a ride home with her new bestie, Jane, and her father, Jim Hopper, and stormed through the school. Anger radiated off his very being, nearly stomping his steps, and just before he got to the front lobby, he saw you exiting the office.

You didn't notice him at first, and for a moment, Billy thought you were going to hurl whatever was on your stomach as you held a few pieces of paper in shaking hands. "Baby," he called your attention, finding your eyes light up at the sight of him. "The hell's goin' on? You were gone the rest of the day, I got worried."

"Yeah, it was some shit wrong with my college applications, but we got it straightened out," you lied, stepping into his embrace. "I'm sorry I worried you, handsome."

He met your lips in a kiss, promising, "Not your fault. C'mon, day's over, our weekend can start once we get the hell outta here."

"Hmm," you hummed dreamily. "Lemme go to my locker and we can get gone."

Billy didn't mind waiting, and when you were done at your locker, he escorted you to his car; only a few students still lingering after hours. He opened your passenger door, winking at you, then quickly jogged to his side and slid in. "C'mere," he breathed, reaching for your cheek instantly; hand sliding along the back of your neck and bringing you in close.

You moaned when Billy's lips molded to yours; all but instantly salivating when his tongue tangled with your own in a messy dance. You had a few rules about PDA, especially in school; but being in his car was neural territory and Billy needed a way to expel his neediness. Praising God for making today steadily warm and that you wore a skirt, you were ready to cry when Billy's hand came down to grip the meat of your thigh.

"Billy," you rushed when his hand traveled under your skirt to ghost over your panties.

"Nobody's here t'watch," he smirked. "C'mon, lemme do this for you, pretty girl. You don't wanna go home yet, right? Ain't got some curfew?"

"Nope," you surged forward to slam your lips to his, moaning when his hand now confidently pet your panties as your legs spread all the wider to encourage him.

"Good girl," he praised quickly, skimming the apex of your thigh to hook your panties and pull them to the side. "Mhm," he hummed with a cocky smirk, "I knew you liked getting fucked in public. Feel how fuckin' wet you are - shit, Goddamn."

You mewled; tension mounting as you tightened up from the stoking pleasure. "Billy - " You gasped when he plunged his fingers into your cunt, easily sliding in due to your arousal. "Ohhh, fuck," you breathed, eyes shut and mouth agape in pleasure, "needed this - needed this so bad. Just needed you."

"You'll get so much more, baby."

You whimpered, "Now, please. Please, please, please."

He smirked, "Wanna get in the back or ride me, princess? Huh? Tell me what you need."

Your eyes locked with his as you thought it over, but then, you smirked as you readjust the passenger seat and turned so your ass was propped up. It gave him a full view of your messy cunt; panties askew from his previous motions and fluid rubbed all around. Billy reached out with one hand to plunge his pointer and middle finger back into your core, the other wrangling open his belt, button, and jean zipper in frantic movements.

He shimmied from the garments and sat up, following your lead in adjusting his seat. He instantly mounted behind you over the center console, licking his palm and stroking his himself to life as he drug his cockhead up and down your wetness.

Billy reached out to move your panties once more, line himself up, and plunge full-hilt. You gasped and grunted, letting yourself be shoved forward a little to catch on the seat; Billy hissing between his teeth as your warmth enveloped him in a sticky-wetness. "Hang on, doll, ah, fuck, there we go," he chuckled, readjusting his position before starting to move his hips to create the most delicious friction.

"Fuuuuck, Billy!" You whined when he held both your hips with only one hand keeping your panties to the side.

"Needed this, too," he chuckled. "Good girl, fuckin' taking me so well. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you? Fuck you however I want to, huh? Yeah," he lifted one hand to smack the meat of your bottom, creating a ripple; liking the way you twitched and delivered two more, finishing, "I know my pretty baby would let me do whatever I fucking wanted with her - " he clenched his teeth, hips punctuating his words, "'cause she was fuckin' made for me."

"Yes," you moaned, mind blank from all the previous drama of your day; ready to weep like a bitch in heat, "anything, baby, yes, yes, yes, anything you want."

"Good girl," he laughed ruefully; picking up the pace to fuck you outta your mind as he ensured you felt every throbbing vein of his engorged cock. He chased his own orgasm as you were charged with your own; hand reaching for your clit to start applying pressure in tight circles. "Let me cum in you, sweetheart. C'mon, baby, tell me I can cum in you - in this pretty pussy - in my pretty pussy - lemme fuckin' cum in you."

"Billy, fuck - yes, baby, yes! Yes, harder, please, fuck me harder and you can cum wherever you want."

"Even your ass?"

"Yes, Daddy, yes, anything you want! Fuck my ass full of your cum, please, fuck, I need it! Whatever you want, I need. Please!"

Billy's golden curls stuck to his forehead and neck, entire car rocking with frantic, animalistic movements - but anyone lingering around the school to see it wasn't surprised. Billy felt like he went faster than usual, that he got a little rougher; but he was nearing his end and it was hard to keep pace. When you cried out and legs shook from your flash-bang of an orgasm, he knew you had finished and could focus on his own; never pulling out.

He'd fuck your ass later.

"Fuck!" Billy came with a shout; shooting hot, salty, opaque white ropes of cum into your quivering cunt. He stuttered his hips into the meat of your ass, balls contracting; emptying himself inside you as you relished in the feeling of his warmth flooding your lower belly. He chuckled, mocking, "Might just have to get you off that pill so I can get you fucking pregnant already."

"Whatever Daddy wants."

Billy laughed as he pulled out of you slowly, instantly turning again to crash into his driver seat. You went a little limp but managed to turn over, both panting as the windows were fogged up; but aired out when Billy rolled two down to light up his cigarette. "So," he spoke through his inhale and deep breaths, "you wanna tell me whats wrong now?"

"Hmm?"

"Why're you so distracted? Distant? Even with me?"

You felt panicked by the confrontation, resorting to your last line of defense. "Just dealing with a lot," you answered as your legs spread as wide as you could to start toying with your beaten-pussy. He watched with a stoic expression as you used your fingers to stuff his dripping-cum back inside you. "'S been stressful, guess I just had a bad day," you whined lightly, still playing.

"Fuck's sake."

"Hmm?" You feigned innocence.

"You're just askin' for it, huh?"

"Maybe," you pouted, "or maybe I just need your cum - "

"Cut it out, we gotta go," he snickered, turning the key in the ignition. "Your dad hates me enough, can't have you late for family dinner."

You went quiet as your thoughts were plagued with a screaming voice that begged Billy to just read your mind and understand what was wrong - why you were so upset, so panicked. But you knew better. So, you flipped down your skirt and readjusted yourself, sucking your fingers of his cum before letting his hand tangle with one of yours on your lap.

"Maybe you'd wanna come over tonight?" You asked softly. "Go see a movie or something?"

"You never wanna go out on Friday nights," he chuckled, but something felt terribly wrong about the notion. "You do homework and study on Friday and Sunday nights, you said it was a relationship rule, huh?"

"Things can change," you pouted.

"I told Tommy and Ryan I'd hang with them and the guys tonight," Billy spoke slowly. "But I can cancel if you - "

"No, no, don't," you shook your head, "go see your friends. 'Cause I'll see you in the morning, right?"

"Right."

"And I can stay the night... Right?"

Billy nodded, "Anytime you want, baby, yeah."

"Okay, cool," you spoke softly, deflating in his seat when he pulled up to your house. "Um..." You stared up at the home as if it were haunted. "Do you wanna come in for a little?"

His head tilted and brows furrowed, "I have to pick up Max from Hopper's, remember?"

"Right!" You gaped, but didn't move.

"What's wrong?" He asked with a hardened tone, making you gulp lightly. "You don't wanna go in?"

"I could, like, just go with you?"

"Baby, the fuck's going on? Know I hate repeating myself and shit, so just fucking tell me - maybe I can fucking help."

"Nothing, no, it's just, it's nothing, I'm sorry, I just - I'm sorry," you chuckled. "Guess I'm PMSing and feel clingy or something."

He only hummed as you leaned over to kiss him in parting. Both promised you love each other before you got out, jogging up the driveway and opening the front door; pausing to wave at him and then disappear in the house.

"Yo, dickhead! Hey! Grab me a beer!" Tommy Hagan called to Ryan Sheen as he went to rummage in his uncle's basement fridge. "And grab Billy one, too!"

"Nah, I'm good," Billy refused, glancing at the can in his hand. It was still half-full. He didn't feel like drinking after having time to sit and think about your behavior the past few days, worrying about you more than he wanted to get drunk.

"What?" Tommy laughed obnoxiously, smacking his teeth after. "You don't want a second? What's wrong with you, got some test you gotta study for?" He laughed at his own joke. In Tommy H.'s mind, only fucking losers study on Friday nights.

"Nah," Billy eased, setting his can down as he felt his irritation flare. He was annoyed at Tommy, sure, but also by the idea that something was wrong with you and you didn't trust him enough to say anything. "I actually gotta go, you guys," Billy stood.

"What?" Now Ryan scoffed, slapping a can of beer to Tommy's open hand. "You're not serious, dude! We've only been here, fuckin' what? Half an hour, bro!" He sucked his teeth in annoyance, rolling his eyes, "C'mon, we were going to Alicia's pool party tonight - you're supposed to give us a ride! The fuck's more important than the slutty cheerleaders in bikinis?"

"That Maria chick's been all over you, too," Tommy laughed. "You can't tell us a single thing that's better than Maria Thomas, all soaped up, in that tiny bikini she wore for the car wash. It's all our wet dreams come to life, Billy, you can't seriously consider missing that!"

"Not everybody's desperate to see Maria's tit-job. You know what? Whatever, man, I gotta go see my girl," he tugged his jean jacket on, tugging his blonde curls out of the collar.

Ryan rolled his eyes as Tommy laughed, "No way. Nuh-uh. You're seriously going to fuckin' ditchin' us for that chick?"

"Man, fuck you, guys, I'm ditching your dumbasses for my girl," Billy snapped. "Better what your fucking mouths and how you talk about her."

"Whatever, man. You're just whipped."

"She got you on some leash or some shit? Got you on a curfew like she's your mommy?" Ryan rolled his eyes, groaning, "Seriously, dude, we only see you at practice now!"

"Look, I just know something's up with her, so, I gotta check on - "

"So, what!? She ain't even tell you why she's pissed off? C'mon, man, that is such a stupid fuckin' tactic chicks use to get guys to go crawling back to their spoiled asses! Bitches do the pettiest shit to get us to suck up to them and shit."

Billy turned and easily caught Tommy by the collar of his shirt before he could even let go of his beer can, slamming the loudmouth into the wall as the aluminum can clattered. Ryan and the two other irrelevant guys left in the basement could only freeze, knowing Billy Hargrove's aggression and not wanting to become part of the receiving end.

"I told you to watch your fucking mouth," Billy seethed.

"Fuck offuva me!" Ryan pushed Billy's arms off. "She's just some bitch, bro, you've already fucked most of the school - what's so different with her?"

Billy scoffed, nodding in amusement as he backed off a few steps. "You know? If I wanna go hang with my girl instead of you deadbeat dickheads, 's exactly what I'm gonna do. Not my fault y'all ain't shit and don't know what it means to keep a chick happy."

"Fuck off, Billy! You're so fucking pussy whipped!" Tommy barked. "Ditching us for that crybaby! Dude, it's not even real! She didn't even tell you whatever she's all upset about! You just had a feeling, so, just sit the fuck down, finish your drink, down a fuckin' second beer, and then let's go to the party! See some bitches that are actually worth seeing!"

Billy shook his head, "I ever hear y'all talkin' about my girl like this again," he chuckled dryly, "might be the last time y'all can even form words. Fuck yourselves," he sneered.

Billy didn't hesitate to storm out of the room, ignoring their jeers and sneers about him being "pussy whipped" and all their complaints about him skipping out on being their ride to "the hottest party of the year." The door slammed behind him, rattling a few windows; making a beeline for his Camaro and pausing at the trunk. He found a pair of your sports shoes you'd eventually need, grabbed them in a white-knuckle grip, then got in the driver's seat and peeled away.

When Billy got to your house, he noticed the lights in your bedroom were barely turned on; knowing you didn't like overhead lighting and probably had a string of lights plugged in. On the contrary, the rest of the house seemed wide awake - every single downstairs light turned on. He grabbed your shoes and his school books (left in his backseat) and got out of his parked car, approach the front door, and paused when a barrage of voices suddenly met his ears. He froze.

The screams were full of hate, and while he couldn't make out distinct words, he heard both your mother and father's elevated voices. It was relentless, it was full of anger and hate and confusion and accusations and Billy wasn't sure how long he stood there with his fist raised. With a deep breath, Billy finally knocked at the door... Then again... Then again... And again, using the metal knocker to bang rapidly. He heard the voices lower and stopped knocking; taking a step back, then waited with his best look of indifferent innocence.

When the door ripped open, Billy was greeted by your angry-looking mother, who didn't look at who was at the door when she snarled, "What the fuck do you want!?"

"Uh, yeah, um, hi, ma'am..." Billy waved awkwardly.

"Oh, Billy," she gasped. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was you, sweetie. What's wrong? What - What time - ? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt so late, but nothing is wrong," he assured. "I just know your daughter's a little forgetful when there's a test comin' up," he chuckled, holding up the shoes and his books, "and she promised to help me nail this essay for my college portfolio... Did I use that correctly? Portfolio? She's always tryna broaden my vocabulary," he chuckled smoothly.

She smiled warmly, another victim to his charming influence, "Sure, honey, yes, of course, it's Friday or something, right, of course you can come in. C'mon, c'mon in." She stepped out the way to let Billy enter into the foyer. "Baby Girl's just upstairs in her room," she gestured with a wine glass Billy just noticed towards the staircase as she used your childhood nickname. They paused at the grand bannister, her eyes rolling when there came the muffled pounding of a bass-line from some song turned up to the max. "She's always blasting her music now adays, it'll make her deaf," your mother scoffed, taking a long sip, then waved him up. "Go on, get up there, good luck on your essay."

"Thank you, Miss Lady," he purred with a small smirk; nodding as he then watched her retreat to the sitting room, and barely a moment later, your father was exiting the kitchen.

"Billy," he greeted stiffly, glass of scotch in hand.

"Sir," Billy replied with a nod of respect, stepping out of his shoes (per household rules) to leave your parents at the front of the house's sitting room; beginning his ascent to the second level. He'd been there before, so, locating your room was like muscle memory; knocking when he approached the door and pausing when he only heard blaring music.

Another knock, no answer. So Billy opened your door.

You were sat on the ground, back against your bed, record player spinning, and the window you faced cracked open to waft the cigarette smoke out. His heart clenched when he saw you, your sadness nearly tangible as light made your tear-tracks on your cheeks glitter. "Baby," Billy spoke softly, watching you jump in shock. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I tried to knock."

You nodded absently, "Music's on."

"Yeah, 's a good song," he allotted as he shut your door securely and asked, "want it locked?"

"Doesn't lock," you answered robotically, looking back out the window.

"Can I turn the music down, baby, please? Real hard t'hear you."

You nodded and he lowered the volume - but when he did, he understood why you had it so high. Your parents could be heard arguing downstairs, and even with an entire floor between you, it was still loud. So, he turned the music up just a little, frowned, and moved beside you, grunting lightly as his tight jeans constricted while he sat.

"Can I?" He asked, pointing at the cigarette. You handed it over mutely, your usual quip of "it's may I, not can I," nowhere to be heard. After two puffs, he meant to hand it back, but instead, you just fell into his side as if all energy you had to keep you up was depleted; a nearly drowned-out whimper emitting. Billy saw the coffee mug you had been using as an ashtray and dropped the cigarette instantly, using both arms to tug you into his lap.

Billy held you in a fetal position, gently and slowly squeezing you into his chest as he needed to feel you close; and you evidently needed to feel physical love. Billy had to gulp harshly when he felt your tears soak his shirt first, then the jerking of your shoulders; quivering of your body. This long week had finally caught up.

"Baby," he sighed, kissing your forehead. And instead of asking the idiotic and repetitive 'are you okay?', Billy instead just asked in a hush, "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

Through your tears, you answered in a hiccuping-hush, "I didn't want it to be real."

Billy just sighed again, pulling you in tighter so you set under his chin. He let you simply rest, he just wanted to feel close to you... But something caught his eye. About three feet from you was your slumped, turned-over backpack; spewing contents as if it had been tossed aside in a fit of rage. What was interesting, though, was the crumpled pieces of paper; at least one sporting a huge, uppercase F circled in red marker.

"Yeah?" He whispered, sighing as he wanted to bite his tongue but couldn't. "Seems real enough to fuck up your grades though, huh?"

"I can retake the tests."

"You're gonna have to study."

"I know... 'S kinda hard to study here, though. Can't really focus on anything when all that's, you know, going on."

"No shit, Sherlock."

You snorted through your tears, "Don't make me laugh, I'm sad."

He smirked, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Listen, I'll just... We'll go to the library for tonight, and after, we can go to my place. How's that?"

"Thought you weren't allowed overnight visitors?"

"I'm not, but sneakin' inna my place can't be worse than tryna focus while here, right? Gotta be better than listening to this shit."

You nodded against his neck as a distant glass shattered, making you relent, "Touché."

"C'mon," he decided, kissing your forehead again, "pack a bag, baby. You're comin' with me - don't gotta stay here. Not tonight. Gonna come stay with me."

You pulled back just enough to ask, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, pretty girl," he smirked, caressing your cheek. "Might even let you do that green face goop thing you love bothering me about."

"It's an avocado face mask, and when your skin is literally glowing, you can thank me then."

Billy grinned down at you, taking the moment to swoop down and connect your lips in a long kiss; breathing each other in. When a second shatter sounded from downstairs, you flinched away, but Billy was quick to hush, "Hey, hey, hey," and when your eyes met his, he assured, "you're safe with me. Always safe with me." You nodded, tears shining in your eyes. "And you don't ever have to hide these parts of you - not from me. Never from me. I love you, pretty girl," he whispered, "and all parts that make you exactly who you are. Family included."

"I don't deserve you," you whispered.

"Nah, what you don't deserve is dealing with this shit. So, c'mon, get a bag together. We'll come back for what you need later, but get something together for the weekend."

You thanked him with a kiss, and while you got your things together, Billy mutely reached out to examine the pages in his grasp. He sighed, noting the three different failing tests and knew he had to "step up" his "boyfriend game" if he truly wanted to help you; and for the first time, he knew, without any selfish motives, he honestly did. He figured, for all you've done for him, providing you with something akin to a safe environment was a drop in the bucket; shoving those tests back into your school bag, standing, and helping you gather the last of your necessities.

Who needed slutty cheerleaders in soaped-up bikinis when this, right here, was what true love was? Shockingly, not Billy Hargrove.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

[desolateyears]

Have a mini fic about Steve annotating books and Eddie finding it really hot🖤

So obviously, Eddie's a bookworm. Before he had any friends, he spent the better parts of his childhood at Hawkins Library after school and Hawkins Middle's library during any recesses and lunches. He constantly read books, this was before Wayne got him a guitar and before he got into dnd, and being a bookworm tremendously helped him fuel both of those hobbies later on. But before then? The library was like a second home to him. 

And so, recently founding out that Steve reads, like a lot, is something of a revalation. It's not that Eddie thinks the guy is stupid, but he figured the guy spent time doing other productive hobbies at home. But the guy reads, and as previously mentioned, Eddie considers himself a literature connoisseur of sorts. Writing book reports and essays were one of the few things he actually excelled at in high school. 

So anyway, he found out that Steve is a book nerd by finding one of Steve's books open on his bed. Not really the strangest thing that Eddie's come across in Steve's room if he's being honest, and not the biggest indicator of nerdiness, until he focuses his attention and acknowledges the bright colors sprawled across the pages. 

A burst of rainbow colors underlining what Eddie guesses are his favorite parts of the story or important stuff he wanted to remember. And obviously, Eddie has to ask him about it. and Steve explains to him that he has a whole color key and it's made up of romantic lines that make him feel warm, sad stuff that makes him tear up, stuff that is word for word undoubtedly Steve Harrington sprawled on a page. Steve won't tell him which color is which, too embarrassed by it, but he lets Eddie read through them, and then he stares at Steve in unyeilding fondness. 

The look reflected on Steve's is not the same, mostly anxiety and insecurity, which Eddie immediately wants to soothe. It's so so sweet he thinks but Eddie's mouth translates the words into, "That's so fucking hot." Which, shit man, it is but he hadn't meant to say it out loud. 

"Shut up, dude, don't make fun of me right now." 

And listen, books are everything to him, this is no joking matter. They inspire his own stories, whether through a dnd campaign or writing song lyrics. It's honestly probably the most attractive thing a person could do in Eddie's opinion, he didn't know how hot until right about now, but he'll die on this hill. Annotating your books is hot. 

"Listen to me when I say this Steve, while that is the nerdiest thing I've ever heard and I'm, ya know, me. It's also about the most attractive thing that's come out of that pretty mouth of yours, like ever."

And Steve folds his arms across his fucking beautifully sculpted chest and narrows his eyes just slightly, raising a judgemental eyebrow at him. 

"You're being serious."

Oh he's never been more serious about anything in his life. 

"Uh...yeah? Yes. Oh my god."

Yeah, real eloquent Edward. 

Whatever, his heart is pounding profuesely against his rib cage because holy shit Steve is a book nerd and Eddie wants to kiss him fucking yesterday. So he gets on all fours on Steve's bed to lean forward and basically attacks his mouth before he can even think about it. 

And when he pulls back, Steve's pupils are blown wide and his breath has picked up pace, and Steve keeps bouncing between looking at Eddie's eyes and his lips. 

"You just kissed me."

It comes out disbelieving. 

"Yeah and with your permission I'd like to continue, like stat, immediately, now."

"You're insane."

And hands weave through curls and pull. 

Eddie tumbles foward, ending fully sprawled on top of Steve, and, jesus christ, body pressed impossibly close to his. 

And after they're romantic, read: nerdy horniness, little makeout session, he forces Steve to read the annotations himself, going through all the books that are important to Steve. He has to stop himself from moaning to really emphasize how hot he finds it, and to make Steve slightly embarrassed, but refrains. Just lets him continue. 

Eddie has never been so in love in his life.

[eggyrocks]

DRUNK WALK HOME

chapter two: outline

masterlist

"mercy on me, would you please spare me tonight?" -bag of bones by mitski

All it takes is one look at Akaashi for humiliation to burn in her throat. He doesn't look at up at her as she approaches the library table he's reserved for them. She takes a steadying breath as she slides into the seat across from him, dropping her bag by her feet and crossing her arms over her chest. "Let's get this over with."

Akaashi looks up from his own spread of notes and an opened textbook, mouth in a thin line and eyes disengaged and disinterested. She tries not to flinch under them. Akaashi always looks at her like that, like she's nothing. He has this real talent for making her feel so viscerally hated with just a subtle once-over.

Her head is banging, a likely combination of a hangover and dehydration from all the gut-wrenching, body-wrecking, sobbing she's been doing. There is still smudged black liner darkening her eyes and dried out foundation flaking on her skin. The library lights are bright and yellow, and sitting under them makes her feel vulnerable, exposed.

It's kinda the same way she always feels around Akaashi, for some reason.

He flicks closed the smooth, glossy pages of his textbook and pushes it to the side. "Let me see your essay."

"I don't have an essay," she retorts, mouth dry. Sure, she has essays due. She has assignments printed out and stapled together that are crumbled at the bottom of her bag. But the only thing she has to show for any of it is a mostly blank Word document with four words written out: I don't fucking know.

Akaashi offers no reaction to this. That's the scary thing about Akaashi, she's learned in all of her time being hated by him. He doesn't have to do much for you to feel the weight of his hatred. Akaashi doesn't groan or yell or cuss or roll his eyes or snap at her. He just reaches down into his bag, grabbing something as if she were not there, and she can feel it.

He pulls out a folder, black and plastic, as he says to her, "Don't bother coming to a session if you don't have anything prepared again."

She bites down on the inside of her cheek and feels something awful churn inside of her chest. "Well, you bitched about me not showing last time, so."

Akaashi pauses, and looks up at her, the only indicator of emotion being the slight narrowing of his eyes. "We're not here for my benefit. I'll pass if you show up or not."

She doesn't say anything to this, she just taps her fingers against the skin of her arm, and tries not to cry in front of him.

Akaashi pulls a sheet of paper out from his folder and slides it in her direction. One page, Times New Roman, font size eleven. "Here's a guide on how to write an outline for an essay. Make one for every essay you have due and bring them back next time. If you don't, I'm emailing your advisor and telling them you're not showing up to your sessions."

"Yeah, but I am showing up," she argues.

"If you're showing up with nothing to work on, then you might as well not show up at all," he reiterates, as if he's talking to a small child. He then makes a point of looking her in the eye when he says, “And for the record, you should talk to Bokuto. Stop punishing him for not wanting to date you. It's not like you can blame him."

And with that, Akaashi scoops up his remaining textbook and notes, and he leaves. She watches as he marches towards the front exit, and does not look back at her once.

extras!

tendou gets really into pasta dinner

yn is friends with like everyone. like almost every single person on campus has either met her, hung out with her, or has heard of her. she has a lot of friends and its rare for someone to not like her

which akaashi finds baffling

yukie and akaashi were closer in high school but pretty much stopped talking once it became clear to yukie how much akaashi does not like yn

she does not play abt yn she absolutely chose her side and will die there

same with kaori though she is a little less intense about it

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @crownj1min @frvppe @mollyrolls @karasyuu @ciderscape @phoenix-eclipses @s1ckntw1st3d @cnnmairoll @soobin1437 @worldgyu @snail-squasher @dragonictears @ferntv @reignsaway @Lisoozi @staygoldsquatchling02 @gsyche @yuminako @spicana @hermaeusmorax @shoyostar @whorefornoodles @hqsimprevival2024 @atsumuenthusiast @lemonocityyy @itsdragonius @robinphobia @aboveasphodel @savemebrazilhinata @lllaw @dreamingofyeo @milesmoralesluvs @miliondollagirl @kitnootkat @soulfullystarry @bows4life

[gay-little-treat-wizard]

As someone who had anger and violence issues in high-school that's not an excuse for any of the shit Kipperlily did. Like my anger issues made me lash out but it didn't make me turn on my friends or think that I'm so much better than anyone else that I deserved to succeed as much as the people working their ass of.

Literally a guy in my class lost his mum near grad and you know what I didn't do? Get upset that he busted his ass to earn a scholarship he dedicated to her. I just felt bad for him.

Like Kipperlily is a terrible person and that's why she's interesting, so trying to polish her motivation so she’s sympathetic just makes her a more boring character. Just because someone has a mental illness, that doesn't make them a good person or sympathetic. Illnes doesn't mean you're absolved of the harm you perpetuate.

I like that she's a terrible person who kind of reminds me of someone who'd complain about affirmative action and having nothing to write in her college essays. I like getting an irredeemable female character and feel no need to justify enjoying that she's awful.

I like the #Frostkettle ship because I think it's tragic that Lucy pooled all her love into someone who turned around and stabbed her in the back. And it makes Kipperlily even more unsympathetic since someone did try to reach out and at the very least be friends with her. Acting like that relationship was in any way healthy, especially after Arkana, just feels silly.

Also the bad kids actions are not equivalent because most of the fucked up shit they do to people comes after those people actively antagonised or tried to kill them, I.e. coach daybreak actively trying to bring about the apocalypse, Biz tried to kidnap adine for weird pervert reasons, Johnny spells was an actual predator.

What did the rats do to the rat grinders? There are plenty of less sentient monsters they could have grinded like spiders. Sorry spider lovers but spiders aren't known for their intelligence or ability to build hidden cities.

I fully admit that the last point was silly but all else still stands.

[atxxzist]

to hell with you | c.s (miniseries m.list)

summary: san is a nice person. he's the guy that gives up his seat and holds the door open for a line of people with a smile on his face, exactly the kind to put everyone before himself. but you swear you don't like him, even if you've known him since freshman year of high school and it's an open secret that he has the biggest crush on you.

san is also the guy to do your homeworks and write essays for you just because you don't wanna do it; exactly the kind that puts you before himself.

you still don't like him though, so why does it bother you so much when he finally gives someone else attention?

pairing: choi san x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, fluff?

status: coming soon

a/n: uhm, hi lol. so i did say i wanna steer clear of series for a while but i rlly wanna write this one & it's gonna be short enough that i won't have to be fully committed lmfao. anyway, i feel i always make san the bad guy in most of my fics so here's to probably the most horrible y/n i'm gonna ever write. i won't be releasing the prologue until i'm done with the finale on my other fic (sweetest lies) but it'll be coming.

to be on the taglist, simply drop a reply or an ask :)

-`♡´-

prologue | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

[magics-neptunes-things]

Prom

Hello!

This one is from a request, I hope it will please you as much as the others. I'd like to really thank all of you for your kindness it really mean very much to me. My life isn't really easy for now and writing help me a lot. I'm glad I can have someone to read my work here ♥

It's only fluff in here :)

______________________________________________________________

You just can't help it. You just can’t fight the force of attraction that constantly clings your eyes to Ona’s silhouette. This girl was a great player, charismatic, very kind and smiling. But she also had the gift of being both particularly cute while being frightfully sexy. You fell for her the second your eyes landed on her. She came to your school early this year for a school exchange. She’s supposed to finish school here and was recommended to be on your high school soccer team. Enough to say that she quickly demonstrated her qualities, so much so that the coach decided to appoint her captain. A nomination that could have attracted problems with other girls, but they were all quickly aware of Ona’s qualities.

You, on the other side, you were the captain of the cheerleaders, so you have the chance to be able to watch her play every game. Since you frequent the same places, you were quickly brought to discuss together. And you found yourself falling even harder.

Your sexual orientation doesn't question anybody, you have long demonstrated your interest for girls only. You don’t know for Ona though. She has never been in a relationship since she arrived here and she seems not to be interested in all those who have tried their luck. Always with her eternal sweet smile, she dismisses them kindly before shifting her attention to football.

You had an incredible chance anyway, because of your catastrophic results in Spanish, your teacher offered to ask Ona to give you private lessons. You agreed and so did Ona, but it didn’t help you get close to her because in the way you wanted because you find yourself blushing and feeling particulary stupide every time.

But eventually your work payed off and it’s with a big smile that you find the Spanish girl in the corridors of the school, shaking a paper in front of her face.

"What is it?" she asks with a smile, her voice making strange things in your belly everytime, before grapping the piece of paper. "Madre mia Y/N a A-?"

You don’t answer, just nod with a big smile. You’ve never scored as high as this one and you owe it to the brunette.

"Felicitaciones!"

She jumps happily before hugging you and kissing your cheek. And here you are again, blushing red like a damn tomato.

"Muchas gracias" you smile, hopping Ona didn't realise your blush. "But I still need your help though. I have a writing for next week, would you mind?"

"Of course not. I have training this afternoon but can I come tomorrow?"

**********

Tomorrow being friday night, you propose to Ona to come for diner and work on your essay afterwards. Your parents aren’t here like pretty much every Friday night, both of them being part of a club with all of her friends. Well it's literally an excuse to meet them and have drinks, but you pretend not to realize it. Your older sister is out too with her boyfriend, like every Friday night too.

"How was practice?" you ask Ona, erasing a deleted sentence on your page.

"Good, good" the other girl answer absent-mindedly.

She was standing behind you in your room, looking at the pictures and the posters hung on the wall. You can’t see it and look over your shoulder. She turns her back on you and is admiring the one with your best friend, dating from this summer. You and she had managed to get her parents to take you with them, and this was probably the best vacation of your life.

Realizing that your gaze lingers a little too long on her arms and her butt, you suddenly shift your attention to your writing, cheeks burning.

"I think I’m done" you mumble a few minutes later, scratching your head.

"Let me see"

Ona answers you softly and comes back to sit next to you. You don’t move when you feel her knee leaning against your thigh, trying to ignore the heat wave that seizes your entire body. The attraction you feel for her becomes ridiculous, especially when a look in her direction tells you that she does not even seem to have realized.

"It's pretty great actually. You just made one or two grammar mistakes, but otherwise it’s fine. Your progress is really impressive"

"I have a very good teacher"

Ona looks at the sheet that she is correcting to send you a smirk and you almost faint. Jesus Christ this woman.

"Done!" she says soon after with another smile.

You thanks her again and a glance at your phone inform you that it's pretty early. Even if you would appreciate more than ever to spend extra time with Ona, you do not know under what pretext to propose her to stay. But she doesn’t get up from your chair though, leaning on the backrest and gently turning it from side to side.

"So, what’s on tonight?" she asks and you shrug.

"Nothing really. I have to stay to watch the house"

"Alone?"

"Yeah? Sometimes Hannah comes too, but tonight she was busy"

You see Ona’s look for a few seconds on the photo she was looking at earlier, representing you with your best friend on the beach. And she turns her attention back to you.

"You both seems very close"

"Yes, I mean I know her since we are five but it’s like she’s always been part of my life."

"Are you together?"

A few seconds pass during which you look at Ona, digesting the surprise of her question. Then you end up laughing a little before shaking your head.

"Like together, together? Nah, she's like my sister. Plus she's straight as a die."

Ona nod and you put the mess on your desk together, now that you’re done studying.

"So if I ask you to go to the prom with me next week, it might not hurt anyone?"

Holly mother of god. You gather feverishly the papers you dropped under emotion and you have to clear your throat to chase the feverish in your voice.

"No one will be hurt if you ask me" you mumble shyly before adding "Except maybe all your pretenders who are rushing to the gate."

Ona rolls her eyes.

"Would you? Come to prom with me?"

You raise your eyes on her face to make sure she’s not joking. But that doesn’t seem to be the case and you even manage to see hope in her eyes. As if it were possible for you to hesitate for a second.

"I'd love to"

**********

Maybe it’s a little cliché the captain of cheerleaders going to the prom with the captain of the soccer team. But honestly, you don’t care. You don’t know how the rest of the school could have known so quickly about Ona's request, but it seems like by Monday most of the others students were already aware.

You may have seen different reactions from your friends, most of were happy for you. You didn’t expect, however, that some would show jealousy by asking aloud what had pushed Ona to ask you to accompany her. You haven’t been able to speak so much to the Spanish during this week, both of your training sessions require special attention given the advanced championship.

But you have to admit that these hallway gossips and these kinds of remarks altered your confidence so much that you ended up writing to Ona in the middle of the week to make sure that she still want to go with you.

You - Hi Ona. Sorry to bother you. I just was wondering if you still want to go together at the prom?

Ona - Hola! Of course, why? Ona - Have you change your mind?

You - Not at all, just asking. You - What will you wearing?

Feeling the questioning of the other girl, you quickly changed the subject under the pretext of being able to coordinate your outfits. You didn’t want her to realize the insecurities you can have sometimes. You are the cheerleaders captain, you know perfectly well that if you let the slightest thing appear, it can quickly turn against you.

Ona told you that she will pick you at 8, and here you are, looking at yourself on the mirror of your bathroom. The more you look, the more you feel that the outfit you have chosen is not the right one. But you don't have time to think about it any longer, because soon the bell rings and you hurry to the entrance. Your parents and your sister are home and you don’t necessarily want them to bother Ona today.

You scream a goodbye and slam the door, making your way to Ona's car. She’s waiting for you and her vision takes your breath away. She’s perfect, whether it’s her outfit, her haircut, her makeup. So perfect that you want to cry. You will never be in her league. Yet she slowly approaches you with a big smile.

"You are beautiful" she tells you while extending her hand to go with her towards the passenger door.

" You’re the on to talk" you answer, biting the inside of your lip.

You almost make a comment about how many will be jeslous of you when the will see you to her arm, but you hold back. You already hinted that last week when she invited you and you don’t want to be too annoying.

A comfortable silence settles between you and you smile as you hear her humming the song passing on the radio. It's only a few minutes later that Ona breaks the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course"

"How did you end up captain of the cheerleaders?" asked Ona, glancing at you. "No offense, but you don’t have the same characteristics as your teammates. You are not superficial, you are not selfish, you have respect for everyone… It doesn't fit so much in the usual codes, you know?"

You look at her for some seconds, thinking about her question. You already know the answer, but you're thinking about the way you can say the things.

"My sister was in the team, my mother was in the team... I guess I just wanted to show them that I can make it too."

You shrugs, before looking at the window. You didn't mean to say that your mother or your sister are superficial and all, but you don't really have the same vision of things.

"Do you even like it?"

"Somehow. It has some advantages. You can met interesting people"

You glance at her and she intercedes, your answer seems to make her smile. It makes you smile back despite the slight heat that once again invades your cheeks.

You arrive a few minutes later and once Ona has parked, she hurries around the car to open your door. You thank her with a smile and look mechanically around you. You notice glances at both of you, but your attention is quickly diverted by Ona’s hand which gently settles in the hollow of your back to train towards the entrance. As light as a butterfly, her hand on the fabric of your dress is pleasant and you refrain from leaning against it.

The evening passed at the speed of light and you had an incredible time. You still don’t explain yourself how you just didn't ignite on the spot. You and Ona danced during the evening, her hands on your waist giving you the impression that your legs turned into jelly. Every touch, every glance or smile brought you a little more to fall under the spell of the Spanish. It’s been a long time now that the stage of crush seems to be over, you are completely crazy about her.

Ona was closer to you physically than ever and you allowed yourself to look at her a little more strongly. You got lost in her eyes and yours landed several times on her lips.

But you are now going back home, in the same comfortable silence as before. The only difference is that this time your hands are intertwined on your leg and you play mechanically with the fingers of the young woman. You arrive a little too quickly to your liking and you shift your attention to the latina when she turns off the engine.

"Thank you for inviting me. I had a great evening" you smile softly, reluctantly leaving Ona to recover her hand.

"Me too" answers Ona smiling before undoing her belt. "I take you home."

Coming out of the car, you slowly follow her to your front door. The lights are off on the ground floor, but the one on the floor tells you that your parents are not sleeping yet.

"It went too fast" Ona pout, gently putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

Quick, air needed please. You focus all your concentration to listen to the words she says to you and not faint.

"It’s true" you mumble without really realizing what you’re saying.

Ona answers nothing, her gaze in yours. Your heart beats too fast, so fast that you have the impression that Ona can hear it. Hypnotized by her, you notice that she came forward only when her face is only a few centimeters from yours. From there you can see the depth of her gaze, every single one of her freckles.

And then, she kissed you. Slowly, letting you the time to stop her if you don’t want to.

But you want to, obviously. You would be unable to describe how you feel during this kiss, but your heart rushing against your thorax cage might speak for you.

"My heart will explode" you whisper against her lips without fully taking them off.

"I’ve wanted to do this for ages, you have no idea how much"

The answer of the latina makes you open your eyes and you find yourself immersed in her chocolate eyes, so warm and pleasant.

"I’m glad you did"

She offers you a new smile and takes you completely against her for a new kiss. A little more harder this one, but still light, made to discover you both. Her hands caress your face while yours are in the hollow of her back.

You feel like you could spend hours there, but you realize you have to go home if you don’t want to get your parents' attention.

"Will you writing to tell me that you have arrived well?" you ask her gently, your hands caressing her arms.

"Promise" she answers you before stealing a new kiss. "Sleep well"

Then it’s your turn to steal one from her, before she goes back to her car. Waiting for her to leave to enter your home, you can’t erase the big smile on your face when you go up to your room. You go directly in it, starting to undress and remove your makeup. You just putted on your pajamas when your phone vibrates, indicating the reception of a new message.

Ona - I came home well. I hope to wake up tomorrow without realizing that it was all a dream. Sleep well Princess ♥

You - Sleep well too, Hermosa. I look forward to seeing you again ♥

[giamee]

𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🥭 )

a continuation of examining the intricacies of high school not-quite romances

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | high school au, short corny fluffy hcs of them as your crush yay !!

requested by @kaixblossom

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ confession time!! i know fuck all about argenti but he's a pretty pretty man so i will write about him in this. same for luka. sorry if i get their characterisations wrong i'm going off of vibes alone. will i be adding them to my masterlist though? probably not. ps new layout yayyy :3

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ARGENTI.

-he's considered a role model within the school as not only head boy, but one of the best students in the year with the highest grades

-and of course, on top of all that, he just has to be unbelievably pretty, too

-a very good candidate to be your hallway crush

-you get a little giddy every time you walk past him, especially whenever he greets you in passing

-much to your delight, it had been happening a lot more often recently

-you had whipped out your phone to text your friend about this little crush of yours, not looking where you were going as you blindly navigated the school's hallways

-and, just your luck, you bump straight into something before you can even send a single tect

-your phone clatters to the floor- you have a screen protector, thank god, and you duck down to grab it, offering an apology to whoever it was profusely.

what you didn't expect, however, was for the other person to also bend down, your hand brushing theirs as you both reach for your fallen belongings

-"oh! sorry-"

-you finally look up, stunned to see the very subject of your desires before you

-argenti merely smiles, offering you your phone which you take from his grasp bashfully

-he then offers you his hand, and if you weren't blushing before then you were now as he helps you stand back up

"thank you..."

-"don't mention it." he smiles down at you kindly, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious

-"though, you should probably be more careful when texting and walking at the same time. even though it is cute."

-he leaves you to short circuit with a simple wave, continuing on his way as you look down at your phone with shaking hands as you finally manage to send a new text to your friend

you: HE CALLED ME CUTE !!!!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 WELT.

-he's a somewhat elusive crush of yours

-you know that he does art, and as a result spends most of his spare time and lunches in an art room

-the very same one that you had as a homeroom in mornings before class

-there's no real rule about who can and can't use the rooms at lunch, but it still feels taboo to come in there, especially since you aren't an art student

-you had an essay due next period, and your school's library wasn't exactly known for its quiet atmosphere, so you had to seek out another place to get your head down and finish your assignment

-upon seeing welt, you realise that may be easier said than done

-he isn't being loud, no, but he's distracting in other ways

-he himself is concentrating on his own work, some sculpture that he's shaping out of clay

-the crease in his brows is cute, you think to yourself

-you also feel like a perv for staring at his hands and forearms for so long as they shape the clay, but you weren't going to tell anybody that

-you finally pick your seat at the same table he's on, taking way longer than necessary to unpack all of your stuff, any excuse to keep looking at him

-and even as you got to writing, you couldn't help your wandering eyes from drifting away from your notebook at to him in all of his glory

-it was mortifying to see that he was already looking at you, an amused smile on his face as you flushed from getting caught

-he merely chuckled to himself, his deep voice sending butterflies to your stomach as he returned to his sculpture

-you'd have to ask for an extension next period

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 LUKA.

-this crush creeps up on you out of nowhere

-your school had a lot of volunteering programs with the local neighbourhood, and you thought that you might as well sign up to one

-it would look good on your college applications, after all

-you weren't too sure what to sign up for, ultimately choosing a daycare for children

-there weren't any other names on the signup sheet, so you assumed that you would be the only one from your school helping out

-but on the first day, you see a guy roughly your age also waiting outside the building, and you decide to be friendly

-"are you here to volunteer as well?"

-the guy turns to you, and you realise that he has a really nice smile

-"yeah, i am! my name's luka, by the way"

-he's got a really nice voice, too

-and the rest is, well, history

-he's upbeat, and fun, and while the volunteering was never awful to begin with, luka's presence just made it that much better

-so really, you should have expected your friendship with him to ever so gradually begin to evolve into something deeper

-you couldn't pinpoint exactly when it became a crush, but you suspect that it had something to do with his insistence on walking you home to make sure you got there safely

-and how in the colder winter nights when the sun is already down before you two even begin to walk back, and you're trying to freeze in silence, luka decides to bring your attempt at being a martyr to an abrupt end by lacing his fingers with yours

-his hands are warm, and it's a welcome addition to your life, much like the rest of him

𝜗𝜚 honkai star rail masterlist