#I think the backroom I work in has either really bad heating or really bad insulation or both

[pterribledinosaurdrawings]

Dinosaur I drew to complain about the inadequate heating at work.

[tlltaleheart]

19

cw. themes of depersonalization / derealization

SCRIPT.

a nightmare devil seeks you out in your sleep. fed by the sweet fear of bad dreams, it twists your senses, distorting the room and its form to become your greatest fear. what do you see?

SCENE.

the devil looks like a devil, which is to say that it looks like the devils in the movies he's seen in mise-en-scène's backroom. it sits at the side of his bed, comprised of scars and features that are too sharp to be human, with horns that curl out from their temples and twist back over long and haggard hair. their eyes are glittering, their teeth sharpened.

"i need your help," it says, leaning in. it has the voice of thousands. "i'm hungry. i'll fade if i don't feed. but no one has been kind to me, to even spare a scrap."

"i'm sorry for that," minseo murmurs, sympathetic. "most people aren't kind."

"they are heartless." it nods, then sighs. "will you help me?"

minseo only needs to think about it for a few seconds before he nods too. "what do you feed on?"

"simple things. you wouldn't even need to stand up for it." it smiles. "i don't think you use your voice very much, do you? i could feed on it a little. you wouldn't notice a difference."

it isn't wrong --- some days he'll speak and find his throat scratchy from disuse. there are other ways to speak. he thinks of the last time he really used his voice, that disagreement over the smoke with irin. maybe if he had less of one, he wouldn't have to fight others so much.

"you can have some of it," he relents, though he's not entirely sure what that'll mean. he's never fed anything except stray dogs before.

the devil coos. "you aren't like the others after all," it says. "you still have your heart."

i do, minseo thinks, feeling a ripple of warmth. and it distracts him enough from the next second, when the devil dips in with glowing eyes and swallows up his voice.

did it work? he asks, only to blink at the new, strange emptiness inside his throat.

"it did." the devil's eyes thrum with a light not unlike the one in his chest, promising a newfound energy. now, minseo thinks he can hear his own voice under all of those others. "but i'm still hungry. do you think you could spare a little more?"

i think you already took all of it, he says. what else could you have?

"you don't use your hearing very much either."

minseo pauses. well, he thinks with some regret, he does use it now. there are voices in the world that he cares to hear now. he would miss the tinny arcade sounds when jaehyun beats him at another game, even the music that he can hear from his neighbors at the next apartment over. and the city. he would miss the sounds of the city, which keep his surroundings from being too quiet.

but it would be cold to refuse the devil after he has already agreed to help. okay, he says reluctantly. just a little of it, this time.

"just a little," the devil promises, and with that, it leans back in and eats up all sounds of the world.

wait, minseo says, flinching back in his sheets. that didn't feel right.

it often doesn't, the devil agrees. but you will get used to it.

are you full now?

hm. i can't quite tell. the devil taps its scarred cheek. you know, if i could taste, i think that would finally settle my stomach. you know how it is, don't you? the mind isn't convinced it's really had something, really experienced something, unless it can taste it, raw and real.

his heart has quickened now, warmer under the covers. but if you take it from me, then i'll stop being able to tell, too.

i won't take all of it, the devil promises, but when it eats up those bright, sensory papillae of his tastebuds, it's just as greedy as it was with the others. delicious, it sings. i haven't had sweets in a while.

so you're full, minseo says, eyes hot. it's been so long since he's felt a heat like this, radiating from his chest and upwards, filling his head. upset, that's the word. it's been so long since he's been upset, and he has to blink back the sting in his eyes. now will you leave?

i have to make sure it really works, the devil says, shaking its head. one more, just to make sure i can taste it. you've been so good to me that i'll let you choose this time, don't worry.

it leans in.

will you give me your eyes or your hands?

no.

even without a sound, the word takes up space for itself in the air. will the world ever be real again if he can't see it? will he ever be real again if he can't be touched? both sound so frightening that he has to shake his head and say it again. no. no. not his hands, not the days of feeling his way through iseul's blueprints, not the comforting methodology of changing out his own heart, not the stability of another body nearby to ground him. not his eyes. how will he see sangwon without them, how will he know that sangwon sees him in return?

indecisive. the devil clicks its tongue. if you don't choose, then i will.

how can he, when these are his last ties to the world?

no, he repeats, terrified.

but at this, the devil just seems to swell with glee. perfect, it croons, before it eats up the both of them and leaves him in a stifling, silent emptiness.

it's nothing. just the vaguest awareness that he is still there, that he's still some kind of entity that can think and wonder and fear.

nothing, in nothing, he fumbles for the familiar cradle of his bed and finds none there. panic closes around his throat like a fist. he tries to sit up but he realizes that he can no longer feel what is up and what is down either, or when he began to fall and where he's falling to, what his unfeeling hands close around, if there's anything here at all. is there anyone here at all? he calls for a name but forgets that he doesn't make a sound. it doesn't stop him though, and he keeps calling and calling and gleaning the dark for something that might be there waiting for him. with him. but would it be any use, he realizes, if there's no way now to know it?

eventually even the panic loses its feeling too. it doesn't go away, just grows so sharp that he has nothing else to compare it to, and maybe he's sinking but maybe that also doesn't mean anything now and he's really just floating. serene, and quiet, and nothing. nothing except for that fear, and that mouth that keeps feeding in the dark.

[writesowhatnext]

everybody has those days // fred weasley

Summary: A drunken night at Harry and Ginny’s wedding leads to a slightly, very awkward situation with the reader and the bride’s elder brother

Request: nope

A/N: basically I read sunkissed by @ickle-ronniekins​ and I became, as the kids say, thirsty also as I was doing the warnings I realised that I essentially described uni so go figure!!! i don’t know why but this was so difficult to write and I’m like wow am I just losing the ability to form sentences

Reader: female

Warnings: suggestive themes, hangover, drinking, nudity, hickeys, innuendo, swearing, 

A low sound escaped your lips as you shuffled, frowning at the strange weight over your waist. Peeling your eyes open, you winced as rays of bright sunlight leaked through the open curtains. So, you figured, today was almost certainly not going to be a very productive one. You huffed and then blinked slowly, adjusting to the light and letting your eyes focus, a decision you definitely regretted as a familiar face came into view.

Now, you’d recognise Fred Weasley’s face anywhere. Not only was he your best friend’s brother, but he was also half of your bosses and a man you’d been regrettably attracted to for almost seven years. So, as you looked at the slope of his nose and the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and his brassy red hair, you knew that you had made a decision somewhere along the way the night before with very hefty repercussions. And so, as all rational and mature people do in such a situation, you decided to handle it with a certain level of grace and decorum.

“Oh, fuck.”

You hauled yourself from the bed, your head screaming at the immediate whiplash from your sharp exit. The room spun around you and your knuckles look fit to burst as you clutched at the sheets in your hands, pulling them to your chest. Whether it was your abrupt profanity or the vicious reorganisation of his bedsheets, Fred let out a deep, gruff exclamation and tumbled backwards off the other side of the bed.

For a moment, you were both silent, except for the panting noises of your combined heavy breathing, and you found yourself staring very intently at Fred’s confused expression, trying desperately to remember the night before. Why couldn’t you sleep with and forget someone you hadn’t been pining for years for? Wouldn’t that have been more fun?

“What the bloody hell did you-“ he stopped himself as he looked at you wrapped up in his bedsheets, the skin of your neck and collarbones mottled with dark purplish bruises that he was sure he could almost still taste on his tongue. “Oh.”

He stood up with great difficulty, rubbing his head with his hand, sending his hair into ruffled disarray. You didn’t exactly mean to look down and you also didn’t mean to let out a high-pitched screech at the sight of his manhood.

“You’re naked!”

You looked away quickly, heat flooding your cheeks as he grabbed a pillow, the one you’d just been lying on, and placed it over his junk.

“You’re naked, too!”

Though you hadn’t intended to, his indignant tone made you look at him, and you caught what was left of an embarrassed flush extending from his face, all the way down his neck. You clenched your jaw at the sight.

“Please don’t think about me naked,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut as the throbbing in your forehead returned.

“Sorry, love,” he said. A lopsided grin pulling at his lips despite the edge to his voice, his inner panic rather obvious beneath the surface. “But I think that ship’s already-“

“Fred!” you squeaked, your eyes growing wide. He stayed silent, but his smile didn’t budge, enjoying your flustered expression far too much. “Do you remember what happened?”

You looked at him then, properly this time. He was handsome, but you always knew that, what with his strong jawline and the long slant of his neck. The skin all over his collar and chest was pale and freckled and covered in dark, splotchy hickeys, you realised with a strange warmth flooding your system. You swallowed against the tightness in your throat as your eyes trailed down, taking silent note of the lean muscles of his arms and his toned stomach.

“No, but if the way you’re looking me up and down right now is anything to go by, I think I can take a guess how it started.”

“What- No- You… Fred, you are so irritating,” you spluttered, annoyed that he could get you so riled up so easily. He shot you a lazy grin, the same one you’d seen almost every day since Ginny introduced the two of you. From the day you met, you and Fred had a habit of bickering constantly about nothing and everything all at the same time and you were sure that had you not been a close family friend, you’d have been fired years ago. Thinking of the family for the first time, your face soured as you dreaded to think what their reaction would be if they found out about how you spent your night. They’d probably hate you.

“You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

You shot him a dry look before remembering where you were. “I have to leave. Like right now.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply, too busy searching the ground for your clothes, heat searing under your skin at the haphazard display of them on the floor.

“Hey, wait, hold on,” Fred said, reaching out to you with one arm, holding the pillow with the other. You bit your lip, forcing yourself to focus.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t we…” he voice wavered slightly, a first for Fred. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

“This-“ you said, pointing between you and him, your underwear flying around in your grip. “Was a mistake.”

You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your hand and huffed, reaching down the get the rest of your clothes, searching for your dignity whilst you were down there. He probably only wanted a shag and whilst that would be totally fine for someone else, you just couldn’t do that. Not with your history. Not with your feelings.

“But-“

You didn’t give him the chance to speak as you shot up sharply.

“Turn around then!”

His brown eyes turned dry as he tilted his head, a silent sarcastic question on his lips. Your frown deepened and he sighed, turning around dutifully. You rushed to put your clothes from the night before on, struggling to keep your balance, especially when your eyes stalled on his bare bum.

“You better be looking at my arse,” he said, his signature smirk loud in his voice. You couldn’t even try to respond, returning to your dressing with new-found haste.

That had been a week and a half ago and you were still avoiding a proper conversation with him. You’d talk, of course, you worked together, you had to, but it was always just courtesy, small talk, and then that deafening silence Fred hated so much. He missed the easy banter you had and more than anything, he missed you. It all just felt so wrong and he couldn’t help but feel that he’d messed everything up somehow. And so, if you asked him, that’s why he was stood there, hiding behind boxes of sweets stacked neatly on a row of shelves and watching you refill the massive tub of love potions. He felt like a creep, but he hadn’t formed the right sentences or backbone required to talk to you yet. And so, as you emptied the box in your hand and made to fetch another from the backroom, he went to follow you, stopped only by a familiar waistcoat, or rather the man wearing it.

“You alright there, Fred?” George asked, the smile in his voice more than evident as he looked down at his crouching brother.

“Just peachy, cheers, George.”

“So, you’re just stalking Y/N for fun then, yeah?”

Fred glared up at his brother, sighing and standing up under his expectant stare.

“What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” Fred said far too quickly. He cursed his defensiveness and groaned. Instinctively, he knew you wouldn’t have told anyone; you said it was a mistake, he reminded himself, earning a familiar sinking feeling at the memory. And so, he’d avoided mentioning it to anyone either, even George, who was now staring at him with a very suspicious scowl.

“Fine,” Fred huffed, rubbing his face with his hands. “At Ginny’s wedding we uh- we-“

Well, he didn’t really remember, did he? He knew on a base level what must’ve happened, but you’d both been so pissed and-

“You shagged.”

“How the bloody hell do you know that?”

George’s laughter only served to further Fred’s indignance. “You two disappeared at midnight, fawning over each other like lovesick teenagers… it doesn’t take a lot to connect those dots, Freddie.”

Fred’s expression soured. “So, everybody knows, then.”

“Afraid so. Mum’s chuffed, obviously, thinks it means you’ll finally get together. With you pair, it was inevitable, though. Especially with that industrial-strength Romanian firewhiskey Charlie smuggled in.”

Fred groaned at the memory, gripped the shelf in front of him so hard his knuckles turned white.

“It’s ruined everything, George. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

George laughed again.

“What’s so bloody funny?”

“You’ve both been mad for each other since fourth year and you think a quick screw is gonna change that? We’ve been placing bets on you for years.”

“You what?”

“You’re so bloody oblivious, the pair of you, honestly.”

“I don’t-“ Fred huffed, immediately dismissing the idea that you would fancy him in any way. There was no chance. “I don’t understand.”

George, helpful as ever, just shook his head, chuckling as Fred rested his forehead on his hands. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but when someone cleared their throat next to him, he sighed.

“George, I’m-“

He stopped short when he saw you, with your arms cross and eyebrows raised. You were clearly unhappy with him. It was hard for him to care though when his words caught in his throat at the sight of you.

“You’re not George.”

“Why are you spying on me?”

“I’m not-“

“Fred.”

“I am Fred, actually.”

Your vaguely threatening expression made him rethink his approach.

“I’m not spying on you,” he insisted, throwing his hands up. “I’m just watching… closely.”

You rolled your eyes. As you looked at him properly for the first time since the incident, a strange feeling stirred in your chest. He was the same Fred he had been before; the same handsome features and the same five-steps-ahead ingenuity behind his eyes, but somehow it was all different. A very bad different. You sighed, turning to go back to your restocking when his hand caught your wrist. You frowned, your eyes trailing from his hand to his face, studying his almost surprised expression.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said, his eyes oddly sincere. You swallowed. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes-“

“I’ll say-“

“Can you not just listen to me?”

“Not when you’re acting so strange!”

“I’m acting strange? You’re the one that’s barely said a bloody word to me since we-“

“Fred!”

“Oh, give off,” he huffed, finally letting go of your arm. “George already knows.”

“You told him?”

“The whole family knows! Apparently, love, we aren’t as subtle as we think.”

You groaned, leaning back against the cash register and sliding down it until you hit the floor, rocking your head back against the wood.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked, pausing a moment before sitting next to you, your shoulders almost touching. You rubbed your eyes with your hands, thinking about Ginny’s reaction when she found out. It was a surprise she didn’t hate you already.

“It’s not the same for you, Fred. This is your family, it’s fine for you. But I’m just this girl that’s friends with your sister and probably should’ve been fired ages ago and they probably think I’m a right slag-“

He barked a laugh, his head tipping back and smacking against the register loudly. Had you not have found his consequent pout annoyingly adorable; you probably would’ve been able to keep your frustrated tone without a smile tugging at your lips.

“What is so funny about that?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t need to be worried about that, do you? You’ve always been a slag,” he said, laughing at your offended expression as you smacked his arm, unable to contain your own laughter.

“You’re such a cheeky git.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N, you were never just some girl. You’ve been a part of this family since you were fourteen.”

You didn’t say anything at that, not even when you felt his eyes carefully inspecting your side profile.

“And it wasn’t a mistake for me,” he said, softer this time. “It’s actually been a very long time coming.”

You sighed, drawing your knees up to your chest and biting your lip.

“It wasn’t for me either.”

It wasn’t until his knee hit against yours that you mustered up the courage to look at him, floored slightly by the sheer amount of emotion in his eyes.

“So, what now?” you whispered, raising an eyebrow. It felt foreign to be so vulnerable with Fred, but you found that you didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would.

“Well,” he said, pulling back his sleeve to look at the time. “We’ve got about twenty minutes till we open and an empty cupboard about,” he squinted. “Thirty feet away.”

You wanted to be mad at him; that was always your go-to emotion with Fred, but as you watched him grin with his bright eyes and his tongue between his teeth, all you felt was a familiar fondness for this stupid, obnoxious, annoying man. And even as you stood up and let him pull you to the broom closet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad about that either.

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@creator-appreciator​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness​

@xinyourdreamsx​

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@rexorangecouny​

@ickle-ronniekins​ 

@harrysweasleys​ 

@alittletoomanyobsessions​

[strawberrywritings]

And another! Pretty please! Imagine the club practically has their own paramedic!!! Who the call when someone gets hurt, and she is badass and knows how to save a life! Ez watches her treat his brothers, who doesn’t crack under pressure or serious moments and is in love with her knowledge/skill. GUESS WHAT! It’s his turn to be treated by the cute paramedic. Please can you give me subtly cute and flirty Ez! 🥺😍😍😍 (ps, need med info - Let me know! I’m an actual paramedic 😂)

A/N: Yasss more EZ. He is my baby and I will throw hands if someone hurts him. Grazie della richiesta, prometto che posto anche l’altra che mi hai fatto❤

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional in any way, so if you find something wrong with what I wrote, just tell me and I’ll be happy to edit it xx 🍓

You hurried out of the apartment and drove straight to the clubhouse, the voice on the other line said that it wasn’t that bad, but you took your job seriously and made your way there as fast as you could. Bag in hand, you crossed the threshold and were met by Riz, who hugged you and escorted you to a backroom. EZ was seated on a chair, shoulders slumped, gaze cast downwards, but he lifted his head when the door opened, and you could clearly see that yes, it wasn’t bad… but it wasn’t good, either. With a worried look, you walked over to him and set your bag on the table next to him, opening it and taking out the various tools you would need.

“Another fight?”, you looked at him, then back at your bag and he nodded, his arms uncrossing as his hands went to rest on his knees. “Yeah, nothing much”, he didn’t want you to know what happened, how he felt the anger consume his mind and body as he kept hitting that man. He didn’t want you to know his deepest emotions, even though you perfectly knew how the club worked. “Nothing that your magic hands can’t fix”, he grabbed one of your hands and you chuckled, taking it away and starting to inspect the wounds on his face.

He had watched you as you had stitched up his brothers during the past months, never batting an eye even at the most horrible injuries. You’d been working as the club’s paramedic for almost a year, now, he started prospecting not much after you started. He was mesmerized by the way you dutifully did your job, it didn’t faze you that it was a gang you were working for, that these people who you always smiled at were involved in the drug business, that the bullets you took out of their bodies were from shootouts. He had no idea how you got into this, not the medical field, but the medical fields for outlaws. He respected you.

He respected you even when you pressed the soaked cotton ball on the nasty cut on his forehead. “I’m sorry if it hurts, but I gotta clean it before it becomes infected”, you softly said, keeping your eyes focused on what you were doing. When you stepped back to get a look at the other bruises, you told him that even the worst ones would eventually heal, but that the cut on his forehead needed a few stitches and you needed to clean his split lip, too. The gloves on your hands made a crinkling sounds when you put rubbing alcohol on another cotton ball, before pressing it to his lips. He slightly flinched and his hands gripped his knees, but his eyes were trained on your face, he was mesmerized by how dedicated you were, he thought you had always been a natural at what you did.

You were the first to break the silence that had settled between the two of you. “You should really be careful when doing these things, wouldn’t want to mess up this pretty face”, you looked at him briefly, your eyes meeting before you focused back on what you were doing. Dabbing the solution on his lip a few more times, you saw how he smiled broadly at your words, moving his body forward as his hands came to rest on your hips. “You think I got a pretty face?”, he said, his right thumb slipping through the shirt to brush your skin. “That’s what I said, ain’t it?”, you turned to grab the butterfly stitches to put on the cut on his forehead, and then you went to stand between his legs to get closer to his head. His hands never moved from their spot on your body, only gripping you tighter when you came closer to him: your compliment had lighted something in him, something that he had kept inside for months, and now he was dying to tell you how he felt.

It was only a crush, at first, but then he felt himself thinking about you more and more, your light flirting whenever you were around didn’t help, and his was the right moment to shoot his shot: you couldn’t avoid the conversation and nobody else was around. “Let me take you out”, he blurted out and he saw how your movements faltered for a moment before you resumed your actions. “You must’ve hit your head hard. Should I check for a concussion?”, you smiled while placing the last stitch on his forehead and turning around, moving to go grab some ice for his eye. His hand, however, stopped you by gripping your wrist. He got up from the chair and his broad frame covered the light coming from the ceiling, he tugged on your wrist and pulled you flush against him, and when you didn’t protest, he released your wrist and put his hand back on your hip, the other going to the side of your face, his eyes started into yours the whole time and you felt your skin heat up at the contact with his.

“Let me show you how much I care, I always talk myself into ignoring my feelings for you but it hasn’t happened… I want you to be mine. Give me a chance, please”, his eyes were sincere and his head had moved closer to yours, only a few centimetres separated your lips from his. “Okay”, was all you answered and when he ducked his head, you stopped him by putting a hand on his chest. “EZ, your lip-“. “I don’t give a fuck about my lip right now, querida, all I wanna do is kiss you”, and how could you deny him? you let him press his lips to yours and you kissed him back. When you pulled away, you pecked him again on the lips, “Go put some ice on that eye, I don’t want it to swell too much. I gotta go, but I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you”, you smiled as you put your things back into your bag. “Text me when you’re home”, he kissed your temple and you smiled, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

The next morning, as promised, you went to the clubhouse to check up on the stitches and the bruises that were on his body. “So, where did you wanna take me for our date?”, you asked, making him smile at you and engulf you in a big hug.

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[crash-cinematic-universe]

a sickly satisfaction (ch.3)

pairing: jason dean/reader

summary: who knew doing homework in a dusty old supply closet could be so much fun.?

warnings: discussing childhood trauma, abuse mention (very VERY brief, it’s more implied than anything) , murder (not detailed)

notes: this chapter is kiiiiind of a little bit shorter than usual but goddamn it has some Stuff In It. good chapter i think

taglist: @stuckysdaughter

          I had barely crossed the threshold of the Snappy Snack Shack when tommy began hounding me.

          “I heard there was a fight in the Cafe at Westerburg between two jocks and punk-ass-- are you alright? What the hell happened? Do I need to follow you around to make sure you don’t get your ass kicked?” He frantically asks. “God, I don’t have the time nor energy to be your personal bodyguard,” He groans.

          “Relax, Geller, I’m fine,” I jump over the counter. “Kurt and Ram pushed me over and I hit my head, but that’s about it.”

          “What? Someone told me Kurt and Ram got their asses handed to them,” His eyebrows furrowed. 

          “They did,” I assure. For some wild reason, I’m almost embarrassed to admit that JD came to my defense. Tommy looks at me expectantly. “Uh, Jason stepped in when he saw things were getting out of hand.”

          “Oooh,” Tommy grinned. “So Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome decided to defend his girl, huh?”

          “I’m not his girl, Tommy, don’t be weird,” I bite my nails. The thought of being “Jason’s girl” made my cheeks heat up a bit. That doesn’t sound too bad. 

          “Whatever,” There’s a lull in conversation, the constant soft hum of the slushie machine making the store feel comfortable. 

          “Is it alright if I do some homework? If I miss another due date Professor Landman might kill me,” I inquire. Tommy nods.

          “I think I left my book in the back,” My backpack hangs loosely on my shoulders as I walk to the backroom. My copy of To Kill a Mockingbird sits on top of a shelf on the wall, and I quickly snatch it and flip it open. I made a habit of leaving items in the back room; I’m here more than I am at my house. I tend to keep myself detached from wherever I live-- I move too often to actually plant roots.

          On my eleventh birthday, my dad died. He got into a fight with my mom, and it got heated. I remember sitting on the living room couch with my new Disney coloring book and trying my best to make a pretty drawing so mom and dad would be happy again. I remember when things got quiet. Too quiet. I remember walking into the kitchen with my pretty drawing and seeing my mom standing in the middle of the room. I can see my father’s corpse when I close my eyes-- I remember the blood and the knife and exactly where each stab wound was. Then the cops showed up and they took my mom and my dad away. 

          Now it’s just me and my Aunt Maria. She’s my only living relative, and apparently that’s the only qualification for taking in a suddenly orphaned child. Problem is, she sucks. She tries her best, she really does, but dear old Aunt Maria moves us across the country every few months. I usually have to remind her to eat and drink and pay bills. It usually falls on me to clean the house and get work done and provide for us. Her endless slew of shitty boyfriends don’t help, but they seem to make her happy for brief blasts. The Snappy Snack Shack always seems to be there for me; a shitty chain of convenience stores is my only sense of permanence in my chaotic life. 

          I don’t realize how tightly I’m gripping my book until it rips at the spine. The split pages flutter to the floor and my head hangs. I have a nasty habit of destroying things in the midst of strong emotion. Apparently that’s “unstable behavior”, according to my 7th grade counselor. Whatever. My counselor didn’t know shit about me. I press my foot into the cover of the novel at my feet. No one knows shit about me. I grind my foot into the ground. I am an island. My jaw clenches.

          “Am I interrupting something?” Tommy’s voice draws my out of my head. I collect the pages from off the floor.

          “Uh, no. I was just… thinking.” The tall man in the doorway knows not to ask more, so he doesn’t.

          “Well, you have a visitor,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m gonna send him back here, s’that alright?”

          “Yeah, sure,” Tommy turned to leave but froze. He turned back to me and lowered his voice. 

          “These walls are not soundproof. Just wanted to alert you now.” Tommy laughed mischievously before darting out the door. I rolled my eyes.

          Jason walks in, and instantly I’m aware that something is wrong. There’s a dark bruise forming under his left eye, as well as a small cut on his eyebrow. These aren’t from his run-in with Kurt and Ram, though, these are different. Immediately, I’m on my feet and examining his injuries. He winces a bit, backing away from my touch ever-so-slightly. 

          “Do you want to talk about it?” Jason looks at me for a moment. He shrugs.

          “It’s no big deal, darlin’, it’s just Kurt and Ram and their damaged pride,” A wave of anger washes over me, but I quickly push it away.

          “One of these days, they're gonna get what’s coming to them,” I say softly. JD nods, a ghost of intrigue flashing behind his pupils. “It’s good to see you, though. I never got to thank you for, uh, helping me.”

          Jason takes a step closer. “I’d do it anytime, darlin’. What kind of person would I be if I let someone like you get hurt?”

          “‘Someone like me’?” I cocked my eyebrow.

          “Mhm. Someone so intriguing and interesting. Someone so original and tough. Someone so… extraordinary.” My face is on fire, Jason’s unrelenting eyes staring into mine without mercy. Tommy would probably scream that this is the perfect time for me to grab his face and kiss him. He would be right if he did.

          “Awe, c’mon. I’m not all that,” I attempt to deflect the compliments. To be honest, I never learned how to accept kindness from others. 

          “You’re all that and more, trust me,” He insists, taking another step towards me. I feel my heart rate picking up slightly. 

          “Well, thanks, Jason. You’re pretty great, too. There aren’t many people on Earth that would treat me like you do,” My lips curl upward into a small smile. My back hits the small table behind me, and Jason takes another step forward. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my skin, his arms resting on the table and encasing me in with him. His face is tinted bright pink.

          “Th-there’s gold in your eyes,” My voice is a low whisper. I’m not exactly sure why I mentioned that, but hey, can’t take it back now.

          “What?” 

          “There’s a ring of gold around your pupils. It’s, uh, really nice,” I hear the Earth sigh beneath my feet. Jason smirks. “I’ve never seen eyes like yours before. You’ve got cool eyes, ya know that? Really, really cool ey--”

          Jason jerks forward, gently pressing his lips against mine. His arms remain on either side of me, keeping me in place. Our lips move in sync, each second that passes allowing the kiss to grow more and more intense. Slowly, my hand reaches up to gently cup his jaw, my thumb languidly running over his smooth skin. My heart is racing, an onslaught of emotion coursing through my veins as JD moves closer to me. The world around us fades away; all the pain and the suffering and the anger and the sadness melting into an obsolete puddle. All that matters is this. As fucked up as the world may be, this is what’s right about it. 

          Jason pulls away after a minute, presumably stopping to breathe. He grins a big, dumb grin. I can’t help but allow a similarly big, similarly dumb grin grow on my face. He rests his forehead on mine.

          “You really are extraordinary, you know,” His voice is raspy. It sends a shiver down my spine.

          “And you’re a really good kisser,” I quip. Sure, the outside world is a shitty dumpster fire full of insecurity and anxiety and hate, but as far as I’m concerned, none of that matters. The most important place in the entire world is the back room of a Snappy Snack Shack in Sherwood, Ohio, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[winryofresembool]

Caleo fic: It’s all about the name

Chapter 5

Summary: Calypso is a barista at a coffee shop and one day she gets a customer who refuses to give her his real name. At first he seems really annoying but eventually Calypso finds out not all is what it looks like on the surface. (Coffee shop AU!)

a/n: OK, I lied about this being the final chapter (no one is surprised). I decided it'd be better to split the final part into two because it was getting pretty long and I didn't want to rush it, so here we go. At least we'll get some answers in this chapter :'D The 'epilogue' will be posted soon, hopefully tomorrow already or on Tuesday the latest so stay tuned for that!

Hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know what you think!!

Words: 2,7k+

Genre: fluff, humor

Warnings: none

previous chapters / AO3

...

For a couple of months the Bad Boy Supreme showed up at the coffee shop pretty much every day. Sometimes he stayed a bit longer - those days weren’t that busy at the garage so Jo was fine with him staying – and sometimes he just dropped by to say a quick hi to Calypso, but he still always came. That’s why, when he suddenly didn’t appear anymore, Calypso got really worried. Had something happened to him? Had she done something wrong? Those questions and more went through her head.

On the first day that he was away, Calypso kept glancing at the clock every couple of minutes, and back to the door, but she didn’t see the familiar curly hair anywhere. When a full hour had gone since the guy’s regular break time, Calypso was visibly restless and pacing back and forth behind the counter. It got to a point where Reyna had to pull her to the backroom to talk to her.

“Are you really that wound up over that guy? Wow, Calypso, I knew you liked him but… this is getting kind of out of hands. I’m sure there’s some perfectly understandable reason why he isn’t coming today; he is probably just too busy or has caught a cold or something else completely normal.”

“But… what if it’s something I did?” Calypso asked with frustration, pulling the end of her braid.

“You haven’t done anything wrong; I saw him smile as wide as you can possibly imagine when he left yesterday. So, please calm down,” Reyna tried to reassure her.

Calypso moped at her. “Easier said than done. But about that earlier: who has said anything about me liking him? I’m just worrying about him… like you’d worry about a friend?”

“Goodness, Cal, you should see your face every time he appears. I can see you trying to keep a poker face but your eyes say ‘bésame ahora’,” Reyna teased.

Calypso did have a pretty good idea of what that sentence meant even though she didn’t know a lot of Spanish (although she was more motivated to learn now that she knew the Bad Boy Supreme was a Spanish speaker as well). She felt her face heat at Reyna’s implications but still wasn’t ready to admit that her coworker may have been right.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying now,” she claimed but Reyna didn’t buy it.

“You definitely do,” she stated. “You’re not that amazing an actress, you know. Your voice got squeaky and I could compare the color of your face to tomatoes.”

“Whatever.” Calypso rolled her eyes. “Can we please go back to work now? I don’t want to keep the people waiting.”

“You know just as well as me that it’s quiet at this time of the day,” Reyna reminded her. “But sure, we can go back as long as you’ll stop pacing around like crazy.”

“I will,” Calypso promised. “I don’t owe anything to that guy anymore and he doesn’t owe anything to me either so he doesn’t have to come here if he doesn’t want to.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Reyna.

“He still hasn’t told you his name?” Reyna asked with surprise, having noticed Calypso calling him ‘that guy’. “That’s so weird. I thought he’s just into you as you’re into him.”

“Well, we’re just playing this game…” Calypso started hesitantly. “Ugh, forget about it. I could easily ask his coworkers or something but I don’t want to pry. He’ll slip it eventually.”

“Okay, I’ll just call him Bad Boy Supreme then,” Reyna shrugged before going back to her work.

…

Days passed. The first few days Calypso tried to calm herself down by telling herself that her mystery guy really was just busy and he’d surely come back soon enough. But once a couple of weeks had gone since his last appearance, she became restless again. This time Reyna and the others decided that it was better to just let her be that way until it passed because there really wasn’t much they could say to comfort her. As a result, Calypso seemed more effective in her work but mistakes also happened more often and she had to apologize to her customers at least twice as often as she had previously. The manager luckily brushed it off as a ‘learning process’.

Eventually that phase ended, though. After a few months had gone by, Calypso started to get convinced that the Bad Boy Supreme was not coming back. She was now calm again but at the break time she still kept glancing at the door sadly, hoping to see the familiar figure. She hadn’t realized how much she really had been looking forward to his visits until they abruptly ended and she wished she had gotten a chance to tell him that before he disappeared. But maybe it was better this way; maybe she had been the more interested one, just like in all of her previous relationships.

On one busy afternoon, Calypso wasn’t thinking about the mystery guy a lot anymore. Sure, she had briefly noted that it was the usual break time again, but she was no longer expecting to see him and was focused on serving the customers that were currently present. That’s why, when the bells above the door rang again and in came a new customer, she didn’t pay a lot of attention to him at first. She just nodded and said a quick hi before finally raising her gaze from her work to see who had arrived. Her mouth involuntarily opened into the shape of ‘O’ when she finally registered who it was. There was no mistaking that curly hair and the mischievous, yet warm, almost chocolate colored eyes.

“Oh my gods, it’s you!” She finally managed to squeak after gulping a couple of times so she could get some voice out of her mouth. Her face melted into the widest smile she was capable of and she had to contain herself so she wouldn’t jump over the desk to hug him. “I didn’t… I wasn’t expecting…” She cleared her throat and said with a lower, fake angry voice: “I mean, you’re really late, mister.”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, but still seemingly happy to see her. “Sorry ‘bout that, Sunshine, a lot of weird things happened recently and I just couldn’t come here even though I wanted to.”

“Well, you’re going to have to explain to me what exactly happened,” Calypso demanded. She couldn’t keep her face angry for long, though. “But before that, what do you want to drink? A double espresso?”

“You know well it was a one time occasion and I didn’t even get that drink!” The guy reminded her. “I’d like your freshly made orange soda today, though. It reminds me of Sunshine.”

“Okay, coming up,” Calypso nodded, wondering if the air conditioning didn’t work that day because she was suddenly feeling rather warm.

“Not gonna ask my name today, are you?” the guy asked with amusement while watching her do her work.

“No. I don’t need to,” Calypso said mysteriously without raising her eyes from the cup.

“Oh?” he asked curiously but she didn’t elaborate so he moved to the other counter to wait.

Calypso took her time with the soda and the guy seemed to wonder if she did that on purpose, until finally she stepped forward and gave him the plastic cup with his ‘name’ on it.

“Alright, Bad Boy Supreme, here you go!”

The guy’s thoughtful frown melted into a huge smile immediately. “Did… I just hear right??” he asked and checked the cup. “Did you just say the magic word?”

“I did, but don’t you dare to make a big number out of it!” she warned, but the twinkle in her eye was enough to tell that she wasn’t being serious.

“No worries, no worries, I won’t,” the Bad Boy Supreme reassured her, raising his free hand up. “But what made you change your mind? I thought you refused to say it?”

“I don’t want to tell,” Calypso said reluctantly.

“C’mon, just do it.”

Calypso didn’t answer for a while, pretending to be more interested in swiping the table. When the guy didn’t show any signs of giving up, though, she finally spoke. “The truth is that I promised to myself that if you’d show up again, I would finally give in. Well, I did it. You won. Go ahead and laugh.”

“No, I won’t. That’s kinda sweet of you.” There was a short pause. “Well, I promised to tell you my real name, so here it comes: I’m Leo. Leo Valdez,” the Bad Boy Supreme said sheepishly and looked a bit embarrassed for some reason.

“Leo,” Calypso tasted the name on her tongue. “I think I like it. It does suit you better than Bad Boy Supreme.”

Leo took a swig from his cup to get something to do with his hands. “Eh heh. Listen. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier. It was pretty stupid of me… I didn’t intend to keep that game going that long because I actually wanted you to learn to know me better. And I wanted to learn to know you better.”

Surprising even herself, Calypso said: “Don’t worry about it. If I really would have tried, I’m sure I would have found out somehow, for example going to your boss and asking her. I… had kind of fun trying to guess it. I wasn’t too far off with that Leon, right?”

“That’s true,” Leo grinned. “I was kind of trying to bluff when I started talking about Ed instead so you wouldn’t notice my reaction to that name.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that!” Calypso exclaimed. “I should have gotten the hint.”

“Well, you know now and that’s what matters, right?” Leo asked.

“Yeah. Um, and about that thing you said earlier…” Calypso blamed the air conditioner for feeling even warmer than a moment before. “I’d like to learn to know you better as well. Although thinking about it, you’ve probably told me more than you even realize already. About Emmie, Jo, Georgina, your friends, family, Festus… But hey, you promised to tell me why you were gone so long, so come on, let’s go sit there so you can fill me in.”

Calypso’s workmates knew better than to say no to her when she suggested having a break so she could talk with Leo, and they went to sit at an empty table opposite to each other.

“So, what happened?” Calypso asked once they were seated.

“Well… remember how we one time talked about our future dreams?” Leo asked, to which Calypso nodded. “After that talk I started doing some maths in my head - yeah, laugh ahead, but I can actually count surprisingly well - and discussed the topic also with Jo and Emmie and they said they’d be more than happy to help me give me a chance to continue studying. Practically, it means they’re willing to give me more flexible work hours and they promised that I can continue staying at their house until I want to or have enough money to move to a place of my own. We have some mechanics come and go and many of them stay there for long periods of time so it’s no problem for them. Anyway, after that I learned that the next entrance exam for the mechanical engineering program would be held in about a month so I needed to start studying right away. That’s a big reason why I didn’t have time to come here, but it was worth it, because guess what…” He pulled a big envelope from his bag. “I just got this today. And it says…” he did some drum rolls on the table with his fingers. “I got in!”

“That’s amazing!” Calypso exclaimed and couldn’t hold herself still anymore, instead getting up from her chair to hug him. “I’m very happy for you!”

“Of course it means I’ll have less time to come here in the future but we’ll make it work, right?” Leo said a bit uncertainly once they separated, blushing hard.

“What do you mean with ‘we’?” Calypso asked, not wanting to give herself false hope.

Leo rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… I… that… of course I still wanna keep seeing you! Why do you think I came to this coffee shop every day for several months even though I don’t even drink coffee?” “You… came because of me? I mean, I thought…”

“For such a smart seeming girl you really are dense,” Leo noted. “Of course I came because I liked you. You made quite the first impression already on the day we met.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, then?” Calypso wanted to know.

“Because at first I thought you were way out of my league and probably hated me and then you told me you had recently broken up with someone and… yeah. Multiple reasons. And then the college thing happened and my friend Jason got into an accident and… Sorry, I guess I didn’t mention that yet,” Leo finished when he noticed Calypso’s expression.

“Wait, what? Your friend got into an accident? Is he OK?” Calypso asked with concern.

“Yeah, he’s gonna be OK. He had luck on his side because that car accident could have ended a whole lot differently but he’s now recovering in the hospital. The doctors expect him to make a full recovery. But we were definitely quite worried about him for a while.”

“I’m sorry… But I’m happy he’s getting better.” Calypso said, resting her hand on Leo’s for a moment as a gesture of comfort.

“Yeah… It’s a relief…” Leo nodded absentmindedly.

“You sounded like you wanted to tell something else as well.” Calypso remarked after a while.

Leo seemed to snap out of his thoughts. “Well, you’re not wrong… Did I ever tell you that I’ve never met my real dad? Well, I have now. Turns out he’s working at the same college I applied for, I saw him on the day of my entrance exam. A huge technology nerd, it seems. No, I’m not planning to stay in touch with him in my free time – the dude abandoned me and my mother before even legally admitting he’s my father – but… I dunno. It is still kind of interesting to see what kind of person he is.”

“Wow, sounds like you’ve really had a lot going since we last met. But it is good to hear things are starting to work out… and who knows, maybe your father turns out to be a decent guy. Wouldn’t that be great?” Calypso asked.

“I guess…” he shrugged. “But right now I’m more interested in other things.”

“Such as…?” Calypso inquired.

“You really missed me that much that you were even ready to call me Bad Boy Supreme if I showed up again?” Leo teased.

“Oh gods, I was wondering when the jerk would appear again…” Calypso said with partially faked annoyance.

“You still like me, though,” Leo stated.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

A moment of silence.

“Leo Valdez, will you go out with me?” Calypso blurted before she could regret it.

“Yes… I mean… YES?!” He stared at her with wide eyes and she couldn’t help but giggle at his expression.

“Alright, glad to know where we stand.”

Leo was quiet for a while. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you just asked me out…” he looked at the distance with a dreamy expression on his face. “I was hoping but…”

“Well, you don’t have to hope anymore, silly. I really did it.” Calypso smiled at him encouragingly.

“I… I…” Leo was still too flustered to say much else.

“I guess that means ‘I’m looking forward to it’?” Calypso interpreted before glancing at the queue of customers by the counter. “Looks like I should go back to work but I can text you afterwards.”

“Alright…”

The couple exchanged their phone numbers, but before Calypso handed Leo’s phone back, she surprised him once more by giving him a kiss on the cheek. Once she was already long gone, Leo still remained on his seat, his fingers touching the spot where her lips had been.

[haileygarciasunshine]

Aunt Flow

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1,310

Warning: talk of blood, talk of periods🤷‍♀️.

The idea came to me while in the shower😳 Hope you like it!

It had become a habit of yours, to visit ‘Scoops Ahoy,’ almost every day or every other day. Your boyfriend Steve, and your friend Robin spent most of the Summer working at the ice cream parlor. Robin wasn’t too keen on the idea of you becoming friends at first, and now the two of you are as thick as thieves.

“Y/N!” An abnormally chipper voice sounded.

Giggling at her excitement you greeted her, “Hey Robin! Long time no see.”

She giggled back, “I know it’s only been, what? Six hours?”

Suddenly a masculine voice interupted, “something like that.”

“Hey, Steve.” You glanced at Steve, only to advert your eyes as he glanced at you.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Robin hopped onto the back counter, while you made your way to the back room.

“Psst...Y/N...” Robin hissed, “Do you have... any of those... ‘Feminine Hygene’ products...”

“Yeah, I do. What can I do ya for?” Chuckling at how Robin, was trying to keep it ‘Top Secret’. Taking your cross body bag off, setting it on the counter, and opened it for her to take whichever product she wanted.

After, her selection she stated, “I’ll be right back,” and bolted out of the parlor, almost knocking Dustin over on the way out.

“Geez, what’s her deal?” Dustin said while walking into the back room.

Opening your bag of pretzels from your purse, you nonchalantly replied, “she got her visit from Aunt Flow.” When neither guy responded you looked up at them. They both mirrored the others reaction. Widen eyes, and slacked jaws.

“What?” You asked innocently.

“You...You mean she got her....That..” Dustin stuttered in shock.

“Dustin!” Steve hissed.

Rolling your eyes at their responses, “Yeah, she did.”

“Do you... Do you get that?”

“Dustin!” Steve yelled in annoyance, “You can’t just go around, asking intimate questions about people!”

Dustin flipped Steve off.

Giggling at both boys, you said, “It’s alright Steve. He can’t help it if he’s curious.”

“I’m back,” Robin started, before getting confused, “What’d I miss?”

“Oh you know, our Scoops Ahoy health class!” Steve huffed in fake annoyance. In reality, he felt relieved that Dustin was asking such personal questions, because he hadn’t paid much attention in he much attention in the health, class he had taken at Hawkins High. None of his past girlfriends, ever talked about their period, because it’s considered such a taboo thing to happen. He wanted to be there for his loved ones during that time of the month, and he couldn’t figure out how. But now he’s hoping that he can learn something from you.

“Y/N!”

“Yes, Robin?” your tone was full of innocence, hoping she wouldn’t be mad at you.

“Care to explain?”

“I was getting there, until I was interrupted,” you replied shrugging, “It’s not my fault the kid has questions about Aunt Flow. I’m just trying to help educate the young.”

“Why do you call it Aunt Flow?”

“Do you want to answer that, or should I?” Slightly turning to Robin who was back at her previous stop, sitting on top of the front counter. You offered her a pretzel from your bag of pretzels, which she so graciously accepted.

“I got this one, Y/N/N. Well it’s actually called a lot of different things. Aunt Flow, Shark Week, Time of the Month, Ect. You’ll eventually learn about that in health class.” She turned to glare at Steve, “If you pay attention, unlike dingus here.”

“You mean to tell me, every female out there bleeds once a month? How long does it last?”

“Seven days.”

“Every month?”

You and Robin both replied in unison, “Every month.”

Both Dustin and Steve, exchanged dumbfounded looks, at the table they were sitting at in the backroom.

“Speaking of, do you have any aspirin?”

“I have the works. Do you want Midol?”

“Yes, please. Before either, of you boys even think about talking to me, don’t.” Robin snapped half joking, and half not joking, “I’m only talking to, Y/N. She understands the pain.” 

“Okay, hypothetical here,” Steve started, “How would a loving boyfriend, comfort his girlfriend then?”

You and Robin exchanged confused glances, “Well, there’s a lot of different ways. Robin, would you like to take this one? I’m starving.”

“You were literally just eating pretzels.”

“Yeah...So?” Giving her a confused look, “What’re you craving I’ll pick it up before I come back.”

“See Dingus, that’s why Y/N’s my favorite.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Steve exclaimed confused.

“You didn’t have to. Hmm... Pizza! Oh wait! What about hot dogs? No, I know Chinese!”

“You have until I step foot out of the store, to make up your mind, after that it’s a done deal.” You made your way over to Steve, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, placing kisses on his cheek and his neck. 

“I’ll be back in a few! Robin, can you at least try not to kill the boys until I get back?”

“No promises!”

“So, Steve. You have it bad for my Sister, don’t cha?”

“Shut Up, Henderson.”

“Whatever.” 

“So, back to what I was about to say.” Robin piped up, “You can bring her, her favorite foods, chocolate, flowers, I think the most important thing, is to just give her your understanding and emotional support.”

Steve had a lot to think about the rest of the day.

A week had barely gone by, before Aunt Flow, paid you a visit too. It wasn’t the worst cramps you’ve had, but they were definitely, painful enough to make you stay in bed. Peeking, at the clock it said 6:30am. Your day was already off to a rough start. Steve decided that he was going, to stop by your house, since you hadn’t been answering his called. He had begun to worry. Using the spare key, you had given him, he opened the front door, and immediately took off his shoes.

“Steve?” A groggy voice asked.

“Hey, Buddy. Have you seen your sister?”

“No, it’s not even seven am, dude.”

“Right. I forgot.”

Steve quietly, made his way up the stairs, to your room. Opening the door, he was met with the all too familiar sight. You were curled up in a ball, which meant Aunt Flow, decided to visit. After the conversation, over a week ago, Steve felt like he could be of more use now, that he knew how to help more. He went into the hallway closet, pulling out a heating pad you had, and made his way back to your room. 

Turning it on, Steve got under the blankets with you, and put the heating pad on your stomach.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I would ask what you were doing here, but at this point I don’t care.” you whined, in pain.

“Here take this.”

“Is this my Midol?”

“Yeah, you and Robin really taught me a lot, I want to put it to good use.”

Steve had cuddled up to you from behind, pulling you close to him, while placing his hand on your stomach and gently trying to help alleviate some of the pain you were feeling, by rubbing in circles.

“Steve....”

“Whenever you feel up to it, we can go to the movie store if you want, and rent some of your favorite ones.”

“Thank you, Steve.” Turning to face him a little you said something he never expected, “Just so you know, in my book you make a damn good boyfriend too.”

Steve smiled lovingly, at you before placing a gentle kiss on your lips, not paying attention to the door creaking open.

“Y/N?”

Breaking the kiss you responded, “Yeah Dusty?”

“Can I come cuddle with you?”

“Always.”

It was only a matter of seconds before, there was three of you laying in your bed. It brought you joy, that the two most important men in your life, were both in your room giving you their support.

[flyfireflyfly]

Tagged: Self-Promo

Was tagged by @promisesox for a self-promotion thingy, with posting 5 of your favorite creations. Technically only 3 of mine are complete, but I wanted to include the other 2. Anyone who wants self-promote, consider this as me tagging you ♥

1. All I Want For Christmas

My first story, posted 7 years ago. It doesn’t seem like that much time has gone by. I used to go back and read it every so often. It amazes me how much my writing has changed, and how much is still the same.

2. Hope and Chances

I do have some regrets with certain stories. There’s about 5 of them I’ve actually come to hate. Hope and Chances is one though that I think I really got it right. There isn’t anything about it that I would change.

3. A Good Girl

1,982 subscribers on AFF. My most subscribed story, more than double my second most subscribed story. I take it to mean that it’s my most popular fic. I don’t know why that is, but I can honestly say it gave me a huge confidence boost seeing so many people enjoy it. It really made me feel like an actual writer, that I can expand in to other genres or themes, that my stuff really was worth reading. That I didn’t mess up again. 1,982 may not seem like much, especially compared to a lot of other writers on AFF, but it means everything to me.

4. This-title-keeps-changing

Blurred cause I’m too embarrassed for it to be seen >.<  They’re notes, filling up a notebook that @supastareden​ had gifted me. It’s for a book I’m writing. Well, I’m not really sure yet if it’ll be 1 or 2 books... And “writing” is a bit of a stretch since I haven’t been doing anything let alone writing... But, yeah. I’m writing a book. One day (probably in about 30 years) it’ll be published, even if I have to self-publish it.

5. Doll

Again, I’m really not writing. I work 6 days a week. My brain simply shuts off when I get home. When I do write, I get a paragraph or so down. And it’s agonizing that that is all I can manage. It feels like I lost the ability to write anything more than those book notes in a notebook while daydreaming. Yet I still keep going back every couple of weeks or so to jot down a few more sentences. I’ve been working on Doll, a smut fic with Yongguk, for a little over a year now. It’s still not finished and I’ll cry in the shower about that later, but here’s the first 2 chapters:

1)

As you woke up, you kept your eyes closed. You could feel your mat under you and the warmth that it gave off. It was odd but it was something you loved. Something about that heat that calmed you and strengthened you. Letting the moment go, you finally opened your eyes and sat up. The room was completely dark like always, save for a thin strip of light shining in from under the door that helped you make out all the other bodies around you. They each had their own mats that were crammed together, fitting as many people as possible in to the one room. Or rather, as many 'dolls' as possible. You looked at the male doll to your right. He was sitting up and picking at a loose thread on his boxers. You turned your gaze to your own clothing. A black lingerie set with lots of lace that barely hid anything. Adjusting it, you checked to make sure it wasn't falling apart anywhere. You liked it much better than the previous set you wore and you didn't want to have it replaced just yet. Suddenly the room got much brighter and you lifted your head. The door was open and a woman beckoned everyone out. "Let's go!" You stood with the rest of the group and shuffled forward. Once through the doorway, you found yourself in a brightly lit hallway. Its white walls were empty of any decoration. You kept walking, following the lady and the rest of the dolls. Another door and you entered a room that was a tiny bit more inviting. The lush carpet felt better on your bare feet than the hard linoleum of the hallway. On the light blue walls hung pictures, all of dolls in various sexual poses. The group separated with the boys lining up against one wall and the girls moving to the opposite side. Time for work. You glanced over to your left and saw the doorway that had a curtain hanging in it. Through it was a much larger room where the sales took place. Other dolls would be lined up in there, the ones that were 'new'. Dolls that haven't been with anyone and could fetch a higher price. You and the rest of the dolls in the back were technically for sale, but it was unheard of for a working doll to be bought. There were rumors of it happening in other stores though. The curtain moved and the lady from before walked in with another woman. "Here is our selection of males." The new woman slowly walked down the line, eyeing every one of the guys, before stopping in front of a large, muscular man. "I'll take this one." "Great. He is your keycard for your room. You're in room number one." The customer took the card and headed towards the stairs. The male doll followed after her, putting his arm around her waist and settling his hand on her hip. He said something quietly to her that you couldn't hear, and she responded with a flirtatious giggle. When they disappeared from view, you glanced back over at the curtained doorway. The lady was gone now, back up front where she could assist any other customers. There would be plenty more throughout the day that would pay for the backroom experience. Select a doll of their preference to be taken upstairs and have their way with. Suppressing a sigh, you leaned back against the wall and waited. It was only a few minutes later though that the curtain was pulled back again so you hurriedly straightened. The man examined the line of females before his gaze lingered on you. You subtly shifted, sticking a hip out and pulling your shoulders back to show off your curves. "This one." A coy smile formed on your face and you stepped forward. "Good choice. She's one of our newest dolls. I'm sure you'll be happy with her."

The man wrapped his arm around your waist and lead you to the stairs. The wood steps didn't feel as good on your bare feet as the carpet, and the customer's hand that moved down to grab your ass wasn't pleasant either. But you ignored all that and went up to the second floor. On this floor were several doors, each with a room number on them. The male went over to the third room and opened the door with the keycard. You swept past him through the doorway while glancing around the room. It was identical to the others, just big enough to fit a large bed with a small television in the corner. Suddenly you were shoved and you stumbled forward. Then you were pushed again, making you practically fall on to the bed. You crawled on to it and rolled your eyes at the guy's impatience. When you looked back at him though, you made sure you kept your face neutral so he wouldn't see any displeasure. The man stripped off his clothes in a hurry, his sharp gaze never leaving your body. It was a look you had seen before and mentally cursed. You started to take off your clothes, only managing to unclasp your bra, when he closed the distance to you. He yanked the bra off before grabbing your underwear with both of his hands. There was a distinct sound of cloth ripping as he wrenched them down your legs. You watched helplessly as he threw the panties aside. He dropped down on to you and without warning, he pushed in to you, filling you with his whole length. You threw your head back as you cried out, and then gritted your teeth as he started thrusting in to you. There was always the ones that only cared about their pleasure. So you simply laid there and let him have his way with you while listening to his grunting. He planted his hands onto the bed on either side of you and pushed up so he was hovering over you. Even now he stared at your bare breast, his gaze never wavering. You examined everything about him. His demeanor, his expression, and mostly the way he was ruthlessly pounding in to you. He didn't want pleasure. He wanted dominance. Shrinking in to yourself, you screwed up your face to reflect more of the pain he was giving you. Instead of moaning, you whined and whimpered. Finally he met your gaze and you hoped there was enough weakness in your eyes. You didn't have to wait long to find out as his pace faltered. He grimaced and let out a string of profanities before collapsing down on to you. His slick, sweaty skin made you wrinkle your nose in disgust, but you forced yourself to endure it until he finally rolled off of you. Panting still, he sat up and surveyed your body. He reached over and grabbed one of your boobs, squeezing it roughly and making you hiss as you arched your back. Then he let go and his hand moved between your legs, groping you. "Not bad." he nonchalantly said. He moved off of the bed and started getting dressed. You took that as a signal that he was done with and climbed off the bed as well. Instead of putting your bra and underwear back on though, you held them in your hands. It was standard protocol, though you would have stayed naked anyways. The last thing you wanted was to get his sweat and stink on them. Only after he left the room did you leave, following him to the stairwell. As he went downstairs, you hurried through a door tucked away in corner. It led to a small bathroom with an open shower area. You stepped under one of the showerheads and a stream of warm water hit you. You cleaned yourself thoroughly before moving to the shelves that held clean towels. As you were drying yourself, the male doll that had went upstairs before you entered. He didn't spare you a glance though as he went in to the showers. Dropping the towel in to a bin, you retrieved your lingerie. Holding up the underwear, you found a slight tear along the seem and pouted. Just as you feared, that asshole ruined them. You carefully dressed, being extra mindful to not tear it anymore. Hopefully they'll last till the end of the day so you could try to mend them. Once you were ready, you left the bathroom and descended the stairs. There were a few dolls still lined up but you noticed some were missing. More than likely upstairs with their own clients. You took your spot along the wall while suppressing a sigh and waited for your next customer.

2)

The day slowly passed by with a steady stream of clients coming and going. Of course it got busier in the evenings. People getting off work and coming in for one little tryst before heading home. Sometimes there would even be clients waiting for their turn in a separate lounge, insisting on a particular doll. Stifling a yawn, you watched as the curtain was pulled back yet again. The newest customer examined both lines of dolls and you silently prayed you wouldn't be chosen, even as they neared you. Then they picked the girl standing beside you and you forced yourself not to let out a breath in relief. They barely made it halfway up the stairs though when you heard the rustle of the curtain. You glanced over at the doorway and inhaled sharply. The man shyly smiled as the storekeeper directed him over to the female dolls, causing an odd sensation to form in your stomach. "This is her." They stopped in front of you, which meant that this was a special request. You took a hesitant step forward and eyed the man curiously. There was no denying how handsome he was, even in just a simple t-shirt and jeans. And with the way the lady who ran the store was standing so close, you had a feeling you weren't the only one admiring his looks. "Here is your keycard." she said and held it up from him. When he went to take it from her, she quickly put her hand over his to stop him. "I do hope you enjoy your time. Let me know if there is anything you need." A small smile formed on your face over her behavior, and it grew larger as you noticed him blush. "Thank you." he replied as he took the keycard from her. Then he turned his attention to you. "Uh... well..." He indicated for you to walk ahead of him, much like a gentleman would with a lady. That odd feeling in your stomach intensified and you attempted to ignore it. Nodding politely at him, you started to head towards the stairs. He walked beside you, not touching you and making him stand out even more. He didn't act like every other man that entered the back room. Once you were on the second floor, he checked the number on the keycard. "Room ten." Then he examined the doors near the stairwell. "It's further down." you informed him. Taking his hand, you led him down the hallway to the right door. After unlocking it, the man opened the door and stepped aside. You moved past him to enter the room first and made your way to the end of the bed. You turned around and stood there, waiting. He  never approached you though. He simply stood there, hesitating, as if he was unsure what to do. "What's wrong?" you asked. Then a thought came to you as you recalled the shy smile he had earlier. "Oh wait, here." You went to the television and pushed the power button. Instantly a porno was shown on the screen, accompanied with the loud wailing of a woman. His eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the television. "Oh, uh... Actually..." He closed the distance and turned it off. Then he turned to you. He hesitated once more before he gently placed his hands on your hips and kissed you. This time you were surprised, but you hurriedly kissed him back. You set your own hands on his arms just as gently. You knew now what he was expecting. He wanted a more personal experience and you made a mental note of that in case he came back. He pulled back and licked his lips as he gaze lowered. His hands slid up your sides before going back down, moving just past your hips. Then he brought them upwards again, much higher than before. He briefly met your gaze, as if giving you a chance to protest. When you didn't, he moved his hands over your breast, fondling them. Reaching up behind you, you unclasped your bra. He licked his lips once more, this time in anticipation, and moved his hands back. You let the bra slip off of you to fall on to the floor. More hesitation, even as you noticed the growing lust in his eyes, and then he grabbed your breast. More gentleness, so when he suddenly squeezed them roughly, you gasped as your back arched. Then his fingers toyed with your nipples, pinching them and rubbing them as they hardened. The fact that he wanted it to be personal filled your mind again. "What's your name?" He looked away from your breast and raised his eyebrows. "Yongguk." You closed the distance, forcing his hands to move away. Tilting your head slightly, you began to pepper his neck with kisses. Your hands found the hem of his shirt before disappearing under it. Running you hands over his skin, you started to lightly suck as his neck as well. A sigh escaped his lips, encouraging you to continue. So when you sucked on one particular spot that made him stiffen, you gave his neck a harsh suck. You were rewarded with a tiny cry, sending tingles through your body. Then you pulled back and licked his neck upwards to his ear. You sucked on his earlobe just as your fingers ran over his nipples. "Yongguk." you quietly whimpered in to his ear. "Fuck." He swiftly stripped off his shirt before grabbing you and yanking you closer. His lips smashed in to yours, eagerly kissing you as his hands squeezed your ass.

You squirmed against him, causing you to feel the forming hardness in his pants. You attempted to wrap your leg around his but he suddenly started pushing against you. Kissing him still, you awkwardly walked backwards as he guided you. Then your legs hit the bed and you unwillingly broke off the kiss. You moved on to the bed and scooted backwards until you reached the pillows. Yongguk followed you, crawling over you. Before he could lay down, you reached downwards and rubbed your hand over his dick. He let out a moan, his mouth dropping open as his eyes unfocused. Fluttering in your chest left you breathless, and you quickly set about undoing his jeans. As soon as you felt the cloth of his boxers, you pushed your hand inside them and wrapped your fingers around his hard member. You only managed a few strokes through when he forced your hand a away. Pinning your wrists to the bed, he leaned down kissed you once more. You closed your eyes and managed to hold back a moan until you felt Yongguk's tongue moving over your lips. As soon as you gave him an opening, his tongue entered your mouth for a brief moment. Then he pulled back and gently kissed your jaw. Your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. He shifted to the side and brought his mouth down on your left breast, sucking on it and causing your back to arch. You opened your eyes to watch him just as he nibbled on your nipple. Biting your lip, you attempted to lift your arms but he forced them to stay against the bed. Pulling back slighting, he flicked your hardened nipple with his tongue a few time. Then he met your gaze as he relinquished your arms. You no longer had any desire to move them though as he slid further down your body, leaving a trail of kisses along your stomach and to your lace panties. He hooked his fingers in to them and sat up. You lifted some of your weight so he could smoothly pull the last of your clothes off of you, leaving you completely naked for him. He looked over you body, his gaze lingering a bit more in certain places. Reaching forward, he slipped his fingers through your wet folds and a quiet moan escaped him. He circled your entrance with one finger and then moved upwards to your clit. He pushed on it a few times before rubbing it. You gasped as pleasure flowed through your body, causing your legs to stretch out and your back to arch off the bed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drown in it. Which was easy to do as you felt him quicken his pace. It wasn't long until you were squirming, your heavy panting filling the room. "Yongguk." you whined as you shuddered. The pleasure disappeared as he moved his hand away. You opened your eyes to watch him remove the rest of his clothing. Once naked, he draped his body over you, settling between your legs and rubbing his dick on you. His lips found yours again for a brief moment before he shifted and you felt him pushing in to you. A long moan escaped him and he pressed his face in to your neck. Then he began to rock his hips, swiftly pumping in to you. You gasped and quickly reached up with your hands to grab him. The pleasure from before returned with ferocity, a storm threatening to break you in to pieces. His name played on your lips over and over, turning in to a desperate chant. Which seemed to only urge him on and his pace increased. His moans growing louder and coming more frequently to drown you out. Tremors racked his body and his arms wrapped around you tightly. As if clinging on to you could help temper his own storm consuming him. Finally something inside you snapped and you cried out as your body jerked. Seconds later Yongguk cried out as well and his hips slammed in to you, pushing his dick deep in to you as he cummed. Then he collapsed on to you.

You laid there, listening to his heavy breathing, and holding on to him. His sweaty body didn't repulse you like your first client much to your surprise. And when he went to roll off of you, you were reluctant to release him. He laid on his back next to you and you rolled on to your side in order to look at him. "That was better than I expected." he stated with a small chuckle. Then his eyes met yours and a blush graced his face. You smiled and sat up before leaning towards him. You trailed a hand down the side of his face, caressing him and earning a startled look from him. You ignored it though and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Which only made him blush harder and you giggled. With a shy smile, he sat up and slipped off the bed. You watched as he rounded the bed to retrieve his clothes before climbing off the bed yourself. You gathered up your lingerie and waited for him. When he was done dressing, he glanced at you and hesitated as he eyed your still naked body. "I have to go clean up." you informed him. More blushing and another shy smile. "Oh... yeah." He indicated towards the door and you nodded your head to signal that you were ready. Then he opened it and moved aside for you to leave the room first. The two of you walked down the hallway in silence. At the staircase, he started to go but stopped when he noticed you weren't following. "I have to go in there." You pointed to the cleaning room's door and then as an afterthought, you asked, "I'll see you around?" There was a bit of surprise in his eyes but then he smiled at you. "Sure."

[orbitluke]

Birdie - Robin Buckley

Birdie – R.B

Robin Buckley x Reader

A/N: I haven’t written in so long, so apologies for any grammatical errors. I appreciate any feedback and I hope you enjoy :)

Word Count: 2688

Warnings: Angst? 

Summary: Robin has been too scared to let her feelings for the Reader be known and she’s terrified she might have left it too late.

Italics indicate a flashback.

 _________

Robin had sprawled out along the couch in the backroom of home video, making herself comfy as she watched you idly from across the room. You were sat with your back to her, legs crossed on the small chair, surrounded by a bunch of sheets. She watched with curiosity, as you shuffle a few documents, eyes drifting along each paper thoroughly to make sure everything you had written made sense. She couldn’t help her lips quirk up as you let out a frustrated sigh before picking up your pencil, taking the opposite end and dragging it roughly across the page, so you could amend your mistake. She noticed how the flimsy table you were stationed at shook slightly due to your movements, bits of rubber flying off the sides. Your lips were pressed in a fine line and brows furrowed in confusion as you read over the last few lines once more. Robin could see your shoulders visibly relaxing as you placed your pencil beside the various sheets of paper in a moment of relief as you finally finished.

It seemed Keith had given you the task to reorganise next month’s work schedule, to which you insisted you definitely weren’t certified to do so, however, he claimed it didn’t matter as long he had something decent by Monday, persisting he would do it but, he had to leave for a ‘family emergency’ and would have no time over the weekend to do so. He left with the promise he’d let you have next Friday off if you stayed behind to get it done. Robin scoffed at this, insisting that this ‘emergency’ probably entailed Keith and the pile of movies she saw him check out earlier. However, since he was technically store manager you couldn’t really dispute the matter.

“I can’t believe Keith is making you do that shit,” Robin spoke, alerting you she was no longer napping after the 12-hour shift she had just done. Typically she wouldn’t be so affected by it, but she had informed you earlier, that last night she and some pretty girl went to a concert somewhere near Illinois, resulting in her getting home at 7 AM, a mere 2 hours before her shift started.

She sat up straight, twisting her body either side trying to get rid of the kinks that had formed in her lower back. She glanced at the clock, realising it was now 9:56 PM and her shift had ended a little over an hour ago. She could’ve easily gone home straight after her shift, but felt bad that Keith had left you to lock up and sort out the schedule, therefore, decided she would keep you company whilst you finished up, however, as soon as her body hit the couch she could feel sleep consuming her.

“Hey birdie, enjoy your nap?” You asked, twisting your body to face her, your arm hanging lazily over the top of the chair.

Robin’s heart soared at the use of the nickname you had given her a while back after the two of you got far too drunk at Tammy Thompson’s house party and ended up pressed against each other in Tammy’s bath, legs dangling over the sides as you drunkenly laughed and reminisced over your friendship together.

**

“I still can’t believe you punched Joshua McKenna in the nose in 4th grade for saying my Wonder Woman T-shirt sucked.” You laughed, letting out a little snort, as your head lay against Robin’s shoulder.

Robin’s heart was pounding at your close proximity. She could feel every movement you made, the way your shoulders shook as you laughed and she could swear she felt you move closer to her, your left hand coming up from your side and interlocking with hers.

“McKenna was a dick. Still is,” She remarked, “And his taste in superheroes? Whack!” Robin exclaimed, gesturing wildly with her right hand, forgetting that your hands were interlaced, therefore, causing your whole body to move with her, and heat rise to her face in embarrassment.

“Sorry.” She murmured, moving her hand away from yours and into her lap. She glanced at you for a small second, admiring the way your eyes gleamed even in the dull lighting of the bathroom. She noticed you now had the side of your head pressed against the cool tile wall, staring at her with a glazed look in your eyes.

You were both still extremely drunk.

“What for birdie?” You whispered, leaning forward until your foreheads were pressed together. Robin felt like she was about to combust, her heart moments, if not seconds away from exploding. You let a melodious laugh, your eyes flickering between Robin’s eyes and lips.

This had to be the alcohol speaking, Robin thought, too terrified to think what this meant if it wasn’t.

Slowly, Robin leaned in, a breath away from your lips. Her eyes closed, trying to take this all in, however, a moment of clarity made her reconsider.

“Birdie?” Robin questioned, moving back, letting out an awkward laugh and shaking her head slightly at your remark in an attempt to ease whatever tension seemed to have built-up between the two of you. Robin looked back at you and she could swear she saw hurt flash across your face, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

“Yeah, Birdie!” You laughed lightly, scrunching your face in embarrassment, too afraid to meet her gaze. “Robin is a type bird, therefore, you are my little birdie.” You smiled softly, finally looking up at her.

Before Robin had the chance to even process what had happened, loud banging filled the small room, accompanied by someone asking if the bathroom was vacant.

Almost relieved by the presence of someone else, you yelled back that you’d be just a moment, before clumsily pushing yourself out of the tub and gesturing for her to take your hand so she could also get up.

Robin walked in front of you, letting go of your hand. Your heart faltering at the lack of touch. Robin opened the bathroom door to reveal none other than Joshua McKenna causing the two of you to let out a bright laugh and stumble out of the room, leaving the boy confused, but Robin was somewhat relieved that you were able to leave behind whatever tension had come between the two.

 **

“I’m not even going to be here next month, so I’m literally writing myself out of the schedule.” You groaned, snapping Robin out of her thoughts, as you scoot your chair around to face her. She was finally sitting up straight, hugging her knees to her chest with her head propped between them, hair a little unruly from her nap.

Her heart dropped a little as you brought up the fact you were leaving. Soon to be a freshman in college, meeting new people, whilst she had yet another year of High School left before she had a taste of freedom.

“I gave Keith the late Wednesday shift, so you no longer have to deal with Mrs Jameson.” You mused, remembering how Robin was laid on your bed one weekend, ranting about this older woman who seemed to come in every Wednesday just before closing. She would rent the same movie, but not before gossiping about her sister’s promiscuity and because Robin was far too polite to dismiss her, this caused Robin to lock up long after her shift was supposed to end.

 **

“Perhaps she has a thing for you.” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows. “I mean Steve said she came in asking for you last week. Seemed that she only wanted to you to ring her up.” You continued, causing Robin to press her face into your pillow and let out a disgusted groan.

“She’s old enough to be my mother.” Robin shrieked, however, you couldn’t help notice the blush that stained her cheeks.

“Never stopped anyone before.” You quipped, moving from your spot on the floor where you were busy folding laundry and flopped down beside Robin. “I mean I’m pretty sure Billy has a thing for Mrs Wheeler.”

“Yeah but that’s Mrs Wheeler,” Robin laughed, lifting her face from your pillow. You looked at her in shock.

“What? She’s hot.” Robin defended, rolling on to her side so she could look at you properly. “Like really hot.”

“Not as hot as me though, right?” You half-joked, a part of you a little jealous at Robin’s revelation regarding Mrs Wheeler’s hotness, but nevertheless quickly changing the conversation by announcing that you needed to shower, so she could happily help herself to your Walkman or your selection of comics that laid on your bedside table. But as soon as you got up from your bed and made your way into your bathroom, Robin whispered to herself, “Defiantly not.” with a smile tainting her lips as she was undoubtedly infatuated by you. 

**

You realised Robin wasn’t paying attention, instead, she seemed to be in a world of her own, whilst picking at her nails, a habit that formed whenever she became nervous.

“Hey birdie, you good?” You questioned, your eyes softening as she met your gaze.

“I’m going to miss you.” Her voice faltering as an overwhelming feeling of sadness consumed her, causing her eyes to become shadowy with unshed tears.

“What do you mean B?” You inquired, placing your hand on her knee as a form of comfort, however, the mere touch of your hand seemed to heat her whole body, awakening something inside of her.

“Fuck.” Robin shifted in her seat, now sitting with her legs crossed, but your hand remained still.

“You’re going away to college and leaving me.” She half smiled, wiping the palm of her hand under her eyes in an attempt to stop any tears from falling. She clasped her other hand around yours loosely, mindlessly playing with your fingertips.

“You still have Steve.” You responded, hoping to lighten the mood. Robin rolled her eyes, trying to feign amusement, but you knew deep down she felt just as deflated as you did.

The idea of leaving Robin was gut-wrenching. Not being able to see her every day was a foreign concept to you. She was an integral part of your life, often coming over late at night, shimming up the tree adjacent from your bedroom window just so you had someone to help lull you to sleep and bring you comfort when things weren’t going well, but now you were going to University a few states away and this would no longer be possible. You would no longer see her face every day as you walked into Home Video with two coffee’s clasp in your hand to help get you both through the early morning shifts. Her sarcastic jokes and quarrels with Steve would now just be a memory.

“What about that about the girl you went to the concert with,” You continued, your words becoming weak with every breath. “Angelia was it? She seems nice.”

Lies. You could feel bile rising in your throat at the thought of Robin with another girl. When she first told you about her, you responded politely, trying not to show your lack of delight for this unknown girl, but when she told you that she was technically the reason for her lack of sleep the night before, you realised this was it. You no longer had a chance and she was obviously into this girl.

Pausing momentarily, Robin then whispered,

“Yeah, but she’s not you.”

Robin hated how desperate she sounded, close to tears just because the girl she loved would longer going to live a few streets over, but instead in a whole new state where she could easily find people to replace her. Selfishly she wished you had chosen a University close by so it was easier for her to see you, but Robin knew how much you longed to leave Hawkins. This small town wasn’t made for people like you, an open mind that needed to thrive with others similar, not constraint to a town so lifeless. Going to New York seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity, especially after working so hard to be granted a scholarship. 

Realistically Robin knew that you going to college didn’t mean the end of your friendship. She could phone you, even commute, but something felt so wrong about letting you leave town without telling you how she truly felt.

“We can still see each other right? I’ll be home during break and you and Steve can get the train there whenever you like. I’m not gonna forget you Birdie, you’re my best friend.”

 “That’s it though.” Robin paused, letting out a bitter laugh. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

“I’m only going to University Robin.” You spoke defensively, your mind racing as you moved from your chair to the seat beside Robin on the couch.

It almost felt foreign hearing you call her by her actual name, so used to the way your lips formed her nickname.

 “I’m in love you Y/N/N.” 

 Robin’s heart was pounding as you let out a bellowing laugh. Instantly filling with dread. She swore she could feel her heart shattering. This was it, you were rejecting her and any chance of salvaging a friendship had been destroyed by her declaration of love.

“Robin,” She looked up to meet your gaze. The silence that had consumed the break room was defending. Apart of her wanted to make a break for it, take her bike and ride as far away from Hawkins as she could.

Taking a breath, you tightened your grip around Robin’s hand, pulling her closer until you were only inches away and spoke slowly with utter confidence.

“I love you too. I have done for so long and the idea of not being able to see you every day hurts.” You let out a soft cry. “Fuck B, I thought you really didn’t want to friends for a sec. I don’t want to be without you.”

Breathlessly, you leaned forward so your foreheads were touching, much like when you were both drunk in Tammy Thompson’s bathroom, except there was no sense of reluctance. Robin emitted a small chuckle, her heart leaping at your confession. Finally, Robin gained the courage to lean in and press a kiss against your lips, melting at your touch as you moved in sync with one another, emotion filling you both with warmth. You moved your hands from Robin’s grasp and wrapped your arms around her neck pulling her closer to you. Your chests were now touching as you eagerly tried to keep up with one another, a small moan slipping past her lips as you attempted to make up for the lost time. Her lips fit perfectly against yours, moving in unison until you both pulled apart breathlessly, forehead pressed together with relief and a new sense of giddiness flooding you both. 

 “I wanted to do that for so long.” You exasperated, moving back slightly so you could take her all in.

 “So have I.” Robin replied, lifting her thumb to stroke your cheek gently.

 “What about Angelica.” You questioned, suddenly coming to the realisation that there was perhaps someone out there that would make this proclamation of love pointless.

“There’s nothing to say about Angelia,” Robin spoke. “I only agreed to go out with her to make you jealous.”

You gasped at her words in amusement, relief flooding you.

“Can’t say I feel bad for her though. She ended up abandoning me for some red-headed chick. All I could think about was you.” Robin mused, leaning in close so you could feel her smile against your lips.

“Really?” You questioned. Robin nodded, kind of embarrassed by this confession.

You leaned in once more, pressing a rotation of kisses on either of her cheeks and finally closing the gap between your lips.

“I really do love you Birdie. We can make this work” 

[overdramatic-queer-antagonist]

Echos of Something Long Forgotten

AO3

Yeah, I can write canon compliant things. Wild, I know.

Magnus should be in bed. It's three am, and he's got a long day of training tomorrow, but- He has nightmares a lot. Always about Julia. Most of the time, they're about what happened, Kalen, and such, but sometimes they're... something else. It's not that he can't remember the dream so much as parts. Scenery, people, and words, usually. 

He's had The dream since before Governer Kalen. Hell, Steven (his father in law, not the fish) took him to a dream specialist for it. Ze had said it was a sign of PTSD, but Magnus had never experienced anything like it in his waking life. 

In the dream, something descends from the sky. When Magnus tries to remember what, all he can think of is static. Dream Magnus knows what it is, though. His friend grabs his hand (Another piece of static. He can't think of his name or face. Magnus is pretty sure it starts with a B,) and they run towards some more static people. The captain tells them the game plan. Which is also mostly incomprehensible, but Dream Magnus gets it. And then they break off.

Magnus runs into the Hammer and Tongs. He's yelling for Steven and Julia, and he hears Steven scream. There are more people- no. not people. They're a part of the thing in the sky. He gets into the room just soon enough to watch the static monsters kill Julia. Even as she dies, she keeps hacking her ax at it. Sometimes Magnus wonders if she died fighting in real life, too.

The dream was marginally easier when he still had Julia. He'd wake up screaming for her every time. She never got frustrated, though, even when they were fighting. She'd kiss the scar above his eye, and they'd go downstairs and heat up some lavender tea. That's what he was doing now. He never did lose the habit of stocking up on lavender tea. It wouldn't be as good as Julia made it, but it would do.

Magnus was sure he'd be alone. Yet, here Taako was kneading dough way too hard.

"Taako? Is everything okay?" Magnus asks blearily.

Taako jumps and aims the Umbrastaff at Magnus, relaxing when he sees who it is. "Shit, Maggy! Thought you were one of those crystal monsters!" When Taako doesn't answer the question, Magnus raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, same. Had a nightmare." Magnus says. He's trying to imply that Taako can tell him what's wrong.

"What about? Dogs falling off the moon?" Taako asks, making clear that he doesn't want to say why he's up.

"No, actually. About my wife. And what happened," Magnus is kinda lying, but he doesn't really want to get into it, and he doubts Taako would either.

"Fuck, sorry, dude." From anyone else, that would seem apathetic. But Magnus likes to think he knows Taako well enough to know that's not true.

"Yeah, just making some tea. Speaking of what are you making?"

"Oh, just basic sourdough. Don't have 'nuff energy for anything too fancy."

Magnus would love to tell Taako he's sure it will be delicious. He is. Those macaroons Taako made last month for Candlenights? Amazing. But Magnus knows that any mention of actually eating anything he makes will make whatever wrong worse. 

Those macaroons were the only thing of Taako's Magnus has ever seen anyone eat in the half-year he's known him. It's not like Taako doesn't cook. He does, all the time. But when he's done, he always just throws it away.

Instead, Magnus stays quiet. The two putter around the kitchen, making their respective coping foods, in silence until they hear a loud banging coming from Merle's room.

Magnus, you guessed it, rushes in. Well, actually. He knocks politely on the door and asks, "Everything okay?" He doesn't get a response, so he says, "Okay. I'm gonna come in now." and opens the door.

Magnus doesn't think he's ever seen Merle cry. Well, there was that time last month when Magnus cut his arm off, but even then, he barely shed a tear. Now, Merle was sitting at his desk, sobbing so hard that it shook. It looks like that banging Magnus heard was Merle's Xtreme Teen Bible! falling off of the desk.

Merle looked up at Magnus sadly and sighed, "Oh no, Mags. You don't need to see me like-" His thought was interrupted by another loud sob, and he gave up on trying to speak.

"Okay," Magnus starts carefully. "I'm gonna carry you over to the couch. Nod if that's okay." Merle nods, so Magnus gently lifts and walks slowly over to the couch. 

By the time he has Merle comfortably seated, Taako comes over with a rag that smells like lavender. (Magnus privately wonders if Taako just dumped his tea on a rag.) He puts the rag around Merle's neck and holds his hands.

"Okay, now tell me what happened," Taako says.

"I had a nightmare. I w- I'm sorry, I can't," Merle whispers the last part as if he thinks if he's quiet enough, the tears won't try to interrupt him.

"That's okay. You're gonna have trouble. Just keep trying." Taako says as he rubs circles into Merle's palm.

Merle takes a deep breath and continues, "I was playing chess with a man. I can't think of his face, but I'm pretty sure I knew him. J-J." He slumps over as he tries to think of the name.

"Don't worry, Merle. Just keep going." Magnus says.

"Okay... He kept- he kept asking me about my kids. And I kept trying to change the subject, but he just kept asking and- I can't explain it, but I just knew he was going to hurt them."

"Is there more?" Taako asks. Merle shakes his head. "Okay, now take slow, deep breaths. In for 7, hold for 4, out for 8."

After a few cycles, Merle looks like he feels a lot better, and he asks, "Now, where the hell did you learn that, Taako?"

Taako closes his eyes tight like he has a headache, and Magnus puts a hand on his shoulder. "It's not worth it. Just let the question slide past."

The trio sit in quiet for a moment before Taako finally asks, "Magnus, did your nightmare have static in it?" Magnus nods. "Mine too..." Taako says thoughtfully. After a moment, he lets out a loud groan and gets up. "There's something there! It's right there, but I. Can't. See. It. And it's driving me crazy!"

"Just let it pass. Do you wanna talk about what it's about?" Taako opens his mouth to speak and instead starts gagging. "Okay, me first. A big cloud of static comes down from the sky. There are seven of us. We all seem to know what's going on. We're trying to stop it. I go to the shop- Oh boy. One second," Fantasy Jesus, why is Magnus's mouth so dry. His heart was pounding, but he could work through that. "I go to the shop my father in law and I owned, and I can hear him screaming from the backroom. The last thing I see before I wake up is Julia hacking at a static monster, refusing to die. The worst part is these dreams started before they even died."

It takes a moment to realize why nobody's speaking. Merle's drinking a glass of water- good he was crying. He's probably dehydrated.- But Taako's writing furiously into a notebook. Magnus laughs. He looks just like- Taako gives him a weird look, and Magnus shrugs in return.

"Can you speak, bud?" Merle asks.

Taako sighs, "Yeah, I think it'll be okay. Wasn't sure, though, hence the notebook. Okay... Fantasy Mary Berry, this is like group therapy or something! So. I poisoned a whole town."

"Gosh, Taako, that sounds terrible. I'm so sor-" Taako interrupts Magnus with a sharp, bitter laugh.

"That wasn't the nightmare. It actually happened. An accident, obvi, but I'm still wanted. Glamour Springs, forty people died."

"Shit."

"Yeah. 'Shit' indeed. The point is that's why I don't really cook for anyone anymore. In my dream, I'm making something for someone... It's so weird. I want to say she's my sister, but I'm an only child. But, yeah. My 'sister' eats it. Thirty garlic clove chicken, because my brain hates me. It poisons her, and I sit there watching her die in front of me, unable to do anything but pray it doesn't hurt too much. I can't even figure out what I did to mess up the recipe so bad."

There's silence for a moment. Magnus doesn't really know how to proceed, and he's willing to bet the others feel the same. After a second, Merle speaks. "Wow. What a fucked up group we are, huh?"

Magnus laughs, "Yeah, that's one way of putting it, old man!"

Eventually, the conversation becomes less weighted and the silence more comfortable. It's nice. Knowing that there were other anomalies like Magnus. People who cried for people and places they didn't know that didn't exist, probably. Even so, Magnus can't shake how familiar all of this feels. Talking with Taako and Merle like this. It feels like he's done it a thousand times. But he guesses that's just another thought he has to let slip through the cracks. For now, he'll just goof off with the first friends he's made since the fall of Raven's Roost. Yeah. That sounds nice.

_____

Lucretia hoped that they would be asleep. She'd woken up with nightmares again, just like she had for the past 112 years, just like they all had. This was the day the Hunger took their home from them, after all.

She just wants to check on them, make sure they were still there. Not dead like her nightmares. They aren't. She hears Taako laughing from behind the door, and for a moment, all she wants to do is barge into that room and tell them about the latest book she read.

That's what they used to do on this day. When everything was too much like what they'd lost. Magnus would always try to get through it alone, but the Captian made sure nobody went through it alone. 

The twins would bake cookies, elderflower macaroons, Lucretia's favorite, and try to teach Barry how to make hot cocoa. They never could figure out if him drinking the one with milk in it was better or worse. Taako swore it was a sin to drink hot cocoa made with water, but Lup didn't want him to hurt his stomach.

Merle would listen to Lucretia rambling on about whatever book she'd just read. They had to stock up on them because she went through them so quickly. Taako would interject her retelling with comments and jokes. Whenever she read a particularly heteronormative one, he'd start interjecting ways the scene could've gone but didn't. It was like a party. It was a little too somber, but that just made it a shitty party.

It had been twelve years since their last shitty party. Lucretia wanted so bad to just walk in there and be like they used to. Taako, making fun of Barry and Lup. Merle, trying to get Davenport to dance with him. Much to the dismay of everyone else in the room.  Magnus, parading Lucretia around on his shoulders as she ranted about how overrated Fantasy Shakespeare was. 

But Lup and Barry are gone. Davenport's a husk. Magnus, Merle, and Taako, while they may not seem too different to the outside eye, are broken. And it's all Lucretia's fault. She tries to tell herself that she had no choice. Once the Hunger was stopped, they could go back to that. She really should be going, actually. But she's been all alone for twelve years. So she leans against the door of her brothers who don't remember her. She'll just listen for a little bit longer.

[lxveille]

the trust fall posts are giving me a Serious Longing for an update on how they're doing, if you should ever get the inspiration. did they ever tell each other their names? how is seeking shelter different now that they're together? do they sit up late into the night talking about what their lives together could have been before this? what kind of house they'd want, a dog? what kind of dates? these questions keep me up at night

wait… this message made me unreasonably happy. like, the idea that someone would have questions??? about a thing i wrote ???? it made my day without heat feel a little (/lot) better. and i think between freezing and being given these qs is why i went ahead and uh… did a thing

wc: ~ 1200warnings: mentions of apocalyptic-y things; it’s a continuation of the trust fall world so if you wanted it to end where it already did, this isn’t for you

If you close your eyes and focus just on the streams of sunlight on your face, you can forget for a moment that the world is a wasteland. It would be easier still if you could drown out the sound of the yowling dogs pacing on the other side of the glass. At this point, you’re not sure if their madness is from a plague or from hunger and cruelty of what now remains. You keep your hand pressed against the line where the door fits against the paneled wall for good measure. 

There’s a rustle behind you, followed by Hoshi beckoning you with a matter of fact, “There’s a back door, Daydream. Let’s get outta here.” You look over your shoulder to him, hesitant to move from your position of reinforcement. “Let’s go home,” he reiterates. 

Something in the word home, or in the notion that home can still exist, is the nudge you need to move.

Both of you are quick about it all the same.

The backroom of the store is a mess of long-abandoned crates and knocked over shelving. It’s a maze on its own. But sure enough, on the other side of it is a heavy door leading out to a back alley. With no frantic animals waiting on the other side. 

Hoshi’s hand takes yours, as if you might not know the way. 

It’s been four and a half weeks – if you’ve been keeping track of days correctly – since the two of you arrived, exhausted, onto these city streets. Over that time, both of you have gotten to know the area you’ve been scavenging and living in well enough that his touch might just be affection rather than a precaution.

Home has two doors before anyone can even get to the stairs. The first one, with its blue paint almost entirely chipped off, leads into what had once been a small lobby of sorts with a wall of mailboxes. It’s only purpose now is to keep the table you push up against the front door once you’ve gotten back. The second door is metal, and used to need a passcode to be unlocked. It took a couple days of work, but Hoshi and you have found a plank of wood slid into brackets on either side of the frame to be effective enough at keeping it shut. 

Even so, it feels safer that the apartment you’ve claimed as your own is on the sixth floor. 

The way Hoshi sighs upon entering sounds like one of relief.

In another life, it’s a sigh he’d give upon coming home from work. The whole place would be warm, the walls decorated with things that pleased you both, the fridge and cabinets filled with fresh food from the store. Maybe even the same store you had just been inside. Once upon a time, that store was good for far more than just escaping snapping jaws and wild eyes. 

You walk across the creaking floor and let yourself collapse onto the mattress. Your gaze lingers on the ceiling for a moment before shifting to the window. In the distance, there’s smoke still wafting out of the sinkhole that had opened up some ways away. No amount of doors and makeshift locks would help in that scenario. 

“I need you to check this out,” Hoshi breaks you out of grim thoughts. You turn and sit up at the same time he takes a seat on the mattress beside you. The two of you fit into a familiar formation with your head upon his shoulder and his arm looped through yours. 

“What is it?” you ask as he starts to unfold a stiff, water-damaged paper. 

“I found it in that pharmacy a couple days ago.” His tone takes on one of an apology. You shift to give him a puzzled look. “I didn’t really know if it was worth keeping. Or mentioning. But I did,” he tries to explain, “And now I am.”

“But what is it?” you repeat yourself. 

“I guess I don’t really know. But there was a stack of them. Like someone wanted them to be found.” With that, he runs one hand over the wrinkled surface of the map. On one spot is a circle, and though the ink has bled some the text can still be made out: you are here. Further west someone has drawn an arrow and two stars. There’s a messy caption for this location as well: aliases welcome. 

“It could be bad.” Your instinct is certainly not to trust it. “A trap of some kind.” 

“I know,” Hoshi agrees. “But it might not be. Maybe it’s been long enough that people are… like… finding a way again.” You hum non-committedly to the idea. Hope hasn’t been entirely absent from your life as of late. But there are limitations all the same. “I could go check it out first, if you wanted.” 

That gets a stronger reaction from you. You straighten out of your comfortable position against him to give a serious look. “No way. We go together or not at all.” 

Hoshi gives the faintest of laughs. He knows it’s serious. And yet he can’t help such a reaction when your definitiveness serves as a reminder of emotion forged between the two of you. “It was only a suggestion,” he tells you. 

“Well, I didn’t like it.” 

He smiles this time. Whatever heaviness you’d felt before lifts, at least enough for you to simper back. “Okay. Together or not at all. I love you.” He says it all fluidly, as if each word is as casual as the next. It’s a kind of levity you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to. Not when it feels just as important every time Hoshi says he loves you. 

The first time he hadn’t even said it outloud. 

He’d woken you up after you’d fallen asleep waiting for a storm to pass inside a turned-over truck on the road. With the clouds dispersed, the abnormal neons of sunset had taken over the sky. It might have been something in the way the colors smeared together that evening that made Hoshi decide he couldn’t hold onto it any longer. 

“Hey, Daydream,” he said as a means of getting you to stop just before you stepped out of the box truck. “I want to give you something.” 

To this day, you don’t know where he found. It must have been one of the wrecked houses the two of you had sought shelter in between the cafe and here. Sometimes you wonder who this simple locket had once belonged to. Were they still alive out there somewhere? And what had that simple star engraved in the middle of the silver oval meant to them? 

You hadn’t known why Hoshi wanted to give it to you. You accepted it all the same, and he didn’t offer any explanation. He didn’t prompt you to do anything with it; though he’d grinned when you’d put it on. 

It took three days for you to think to open it. 

Nestled within the spot where one could keep a picture was a small piece of paper; a corner torn off from somewhere else. On it, in pencil gray, were the simple words: love, Soonyoung.

[pendragonfics]

Video Killed The Radio Star

Paring: Billy Hargrove/Reader

Tags: female reader, tutoring, teen angst, hurt/comfort, implied/referenced child abuse, canon related, Neil Hargrove Is an Asshole, angry Billy Hargrove, 1980s, set Post-Snow Ball Stranger Things s2. 

Summary: Reader isn't exactly Brooke Shields -- she's quiet, prefers books to people, and likes to listen to the newest hits on the radio with her friends. But when she's paired up with the Billy Hargrove by her math teacher to help him from falling behind, the status quo of her life with her dad and sister, and of Hawkins High is interrupted.

Word Count: 2,769

Current Date: 2018-10-15

“Why do you want me to hate you so bad?” you whisper to him.

You were sitting on the porch of Mr. Hargrove’s house on the edge of Hawkins, drinking soft drink and trying to tutor the newcomer to Hawkins High on math. His credit transfer from his old school in California might have been good over there, but in Indiana, in this small town where there wasn’t anything to distract someone from their studies other than sport or dating, it wasn’t up to scratch. Thus, you were here, trying to get Billy to pass the next quiz.

Billy blinks, and with a straight face that makes you want to punch him right between his pretty eyes, he says, “Because, sweet cheeks,” he looks away, down the driveway that Neil Hargrove could drive up any minute, “I am bad.”

“Yeah?” you ask him. Shoving the maths textbook away from you, and your hands into the pockets of your jean jacket, you bite your tongue. It was cold out, and your Dad warned you before you took your bike here, but you liked your jean jacket. “Well, then Hargrove…why is it you want me, and everyone else to believe you’re a Danny Zuko, when you’re just a Brad Majors?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He says, voice sharp like broken glass underfoot. He clicks his lighter to life and lit up the end of a cigarette.

You shrug. “I don’t know, Hargrove, why don’t you tell me?”

He takes a pull of his lit cigarette. “You don’t like Grease?” he replies.

You shake your head. “No, Hargrove.” Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, “Who are you trying to fool? I know you’re a nice guy. Under all of that.”

It’s then he chokes. Coughing, he wheezes, “Nice guy?” he laughs, “_________, I’ll have what you’re smoking.”

You huff. “I’m not smoking anything!” you cross your arms, feeling a little mad. “I know you’re not half bad –,”

“First nice, now half bad? _________, who’re you – I’m Billy Hargrove, asshole, king of Hawkins High. I am not nice. I’m an asshole, and you know it.” He’s nothing short of angry, and in his temper, he tosses his cigarette on the porch, and crushes it, still lit, under his boot. “Is this because I agreed to let you tutor me? I don’t need pity, much less from a nerd like you.”

You blink, watching him. “What are you saying?”

He doesn’t respond. He just sits there, looking at his shoe which smashed his cigarette into the wood of the porch, and it is then when you take a deep breath, and begin gathering your books.

“Whatever,” you say, trying to not show how much his words hurt.

Nerd.

Nobody had called you that in years, since you were in middle school, and Nancy threatened to beat up anyone who called you that. “This took up too much of my time anyway.” You shove your books into your backpack, and in the hurry to pack up, some of the textbooks become dog-eared. You don’t care. He’s on your nerves. You turn to look at Billy to say a goodbye but doesn’t meet your eyes at all.

With a huff, you march to where your bike rests against the porch, and flip the bird to the King of Hawkins High, “Good luck passing math.”

---

The next time you will see Billy Hargrove, you’re seated in the back of the math classroom, using your free period, and the availability of the empty room before math class for some alone time. It’s nice. Nancy is off holding hands with Jonathan in the shade of their favourite tree in the schoolyard, and Steve is off working on his American history report last minute in the library. You’re thirty pages into To Kill A Mockingbird when you realise that the little office off the back of the math room is not empty – as there are voices coming from there.

“It’s either be tutored by Ms. __________, or you fail this class.” Mr. Mundy’s voice carried, slightly louder than his usual tone.

You frown, placing your homemade bookmark in place, lowering the book. It’s then you hear a bang! like small thunder, or a fist upon a desk, and you hear, “No! No. I can’t fail. Isn’t there anyone else who can…” there’s a silence, “tutor me?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hargrove, but no.” His tone is firm. “I cannot bend the rules for one student.”

Your heart beats faster, like a rabbit learning there’s a fox nearby. Instinct wants you to run out the math room before anyone sees you. Your more logical part of the brain thinks it’s better to duck under the table. Instead, when Mr. Mundy and Billy come out of the backroom, you freeze, and amidst your panic, you fall from your chair.

“Ah, Ms. _________,” Mr. Mundy says, as you look up from behind the desk you toppled behind. You know your face is heating up in embarrassment, you can feel it in your ears. “I was just speaking to Mr. Hargrove about the little issue between the both of you. I know you said you don’t have the capacity to tutor Billy anymore, but, is there any off-chance you would take him on again?”

You stand, brushing the dirt from your knees, and look to where Billy stands, behind Mr. Mundy. He’s wearing a brown leather jacket that the other girls at school might think is bitchin’, but to you, it’s uglier than lumpy Christmas sweaters, and reminds you of his father. Billy’s scowling, too, and if you know a scowl (they’re commonplace on your sister’s face, especially when she doesn’t get her way), he hates your guts.

“Mr. Mundy,” you start, shaking your head. “I told you that I don’t have the time for tutoring. Or the patience. He’s quite behind.”

“Yes, I know –,” Your teacher wiped a hand over his stubbled chin and huffed. “I didn’t want it to get to this… _________, if you tutor Billy, I will personally write a letter of recommendation to your preferred college, come senior year.” You look between Mr. Mundy and Billy, and, as you do this, he adds, “I’ll organise this to be written as an extracurricular –,”

“Fine.” You look at your shoes. If your Dad heard how hard you changed your mind, he’d march right into the principle’s office and demand a hearing between them both. “I better get a great recommendation.” You say, as if a curse under your breath. As Mr. Mundy goes to move, perhaps to the staff lounge for his pre-class cup of coffee, or behind the gym classroom for a sneaky cigarette with the English faculty, you add, “And if I quit one more time, I’m not tutoring him again. No matter what recommendation I get.”

Mr. Mundy walks out, mumbling in agreement. But as Billy turns to go, you address him, staring him down. “Tutoring starts at eight in the morning, my place.” Fishing in your backpack, you tear the back cover off, and write down your address. “Be there or be square.”

---

This time, you have Billy over at your house. It’s nothing much – your Dad lived sidled up to the woods in a tiny house. It has enough room for you, your Dad, his collection of music, and your little sister. It feels weird to have Billy Hargrove over, especially since you thought you rid yourself of him already. You’re set up at the dinner table when he knocks on the door, and when you greet him wordlessly, and lead him inside, you know he’s staring at you.

“What?” you ask, deadpan. “Do I have two heads?”

He shrugs, dropping into chair opposite where you’re set up. “Nothing, nerd.”

You frown, jaw set. “Okay, if I’m going to tutor you, Hargrove, we need some ground rules. Like, don’t call me a nerd. Or any names. Just _________.” You grit your teeth. “Just because I’m good at some subjects at school doesn’t mean you or Tommy H can walk all over me.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, I won’t do those things.” He wipes a hand through his long hair, and with a groan, he rolls his eyes, “Can we start? I gotta be done before noon.”

You nod, moving to take a seat. “Yeah. Um, this week was basic algebra, so I found these problems from the textbook, so we can practice some examples…” before too long, you delve into the problems, and explain the fundamentals of how to understand the problems.

When it got to ten o’clock, you noticed how hungry you had gotten, and how broken Billy’s attention was getting. It was when Billy worked on the latest batch of examples, you moved to the kitchen, and began preparing the oven for pizza rolls. Your sister had really taken to them, and there were lots of them in the kitchen. It wasn’t until you shoved them in the oven that you realised that Billy had been watching you.

“What?” you demand, hands posed upon your hips. When he doesn’t say anything, you turn to the egg timer beside the oven, and clock the right amount of time, and return to your seat opposite Billy. But he’s still staring at you. “Have you never had pizza rolls before, or…?”

He shakes his head. “You’re different.” He says, and adds, quickly, as if speaking as he’s thinking, “Every time you open your mouth.”

“What, you’ve never met someone who’s progressively more pissed off at you?” you retort, rolling your eyes. When Billy says nothing, you pick up your pencil where you left it before you got up and go back to the algebra problem you had begun to sketch out for him. “Anyways, it’s not like you’re being horrible to me now, so I’m sorry if I’m not spitting fire.”

He shrugs. “I was going to say that you’re not half bad.”

You chuckle at that. Didn’t you say that about him, before? “Don’t get soft on me, Hargrove. We’ve got limited time before the pizza rolls are ready.”

---

There’s a drive-in cinema just on the outskirts of Hawkins, and your father has the night off from work. You’d think that as police chief, he’d be able to work out more times off with his family, but no. It’s nice – you’re in the backseat of the station wagon with your sister Jane, and as you pull into the lot and pay for the tickets, you watch as Jane skirts away from a kiss goodbye from Dad when she goes off to find her friends. As you watch her find Steve Harrington’s car – your friend often took her and her friends to the movies – you clamber to the passenger seat beside your dad.

“So, what’s this movie about, again?” your dad Jim Hopper asks you, pulling on the handbrake.

You roll your eyes. “It’s in the name, Dad.” You point at the flyer you picked up at the ticket booth, pointing at the title. “Superman III. The third Superman movie. You know, about…”

“Superman?” he guesses.

You laugh, but midway, you choke on it. Because walking this way is none other than your tutee, Billy Hargrove. He’s wearing a button-down shirt that’s actually decently done up, and there isn’t a cigarette hanging out of his lip. In the split second between you noticing him and your dad noticing something’s up with you, you bend as if you’re going to tie your shoelace to hide your face. But you forget the dashboard that’s between you and your task, and you headbutt it in the effort.

You’re rubbing your sore head when Billy sees you, and, your father. His step falters, and, as if it never happened, he keeps on his path, and walks away.

“What was that?” your father asks you.

You shake your head. “Nothing, Dad.” You give him a withering look. “What, a boy looks at me, and now this?”

He nods in earnest. “Yes, _________. Because that’s the Hargrove boy who’s always making trouble around town.” He replies, and narrowing his eyes, he adds “Don’t tell me you’re friends with him.”

“No!” you cry out. “No.”

But internally, you’re not sure. Now at school, he actually acknowledges you in the hallways, and when you meet up at Hawkins library for tutoring – a neutral location that isn’t his house with Max or his father around, nor your family – he’s, well, not an asshole. Passably nice. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re seeing less bruises on him when you meet up, or if it’s because you’re not noticing his bloodied knuckles wrapped around a lead pencil anymore, but whatever it is, it’s working.

“Alright then,” your dad raises both his hands in surrender. “Sorry, kiddo. I just don’t want you mixing with the wrong crowd, you know?”

You frown, facing your father. “I know you mean well and all, Dad, but I’m not a kid anymore. I can be friends with nice Nancy Wheeler, quiet Jonathan Buyers, cool Steve Harrington and bad Billy Hargrove if I wanted to.” You look at your lap. In a quiet voice, you add, “besides, I think I am.”

“Didn’t you just say…?”

“I’ll be right back,” you tell your dad.

Before he can protest, you dash out of the car, following where you saw Billy walk off earlier. Weaving through the parked cars on the open field, you stand on tip-toes, trying to see where he got off to. You can see Mr. Clarke’s car parked nearby, Tommy H and Carol making out beside the popcorn booth on the edge of the field, but no Billy.

“Didn’t know you came here,” you hear a family voice behind you.

Turning, you see him. He’s holding a small popcorn, and in the other hand, a packet of sweets. A girl beside him groans when she realises Billy has stopped walking, and tugs at his sleeve.

“C’mon, the movie’s starting!” she urges.

Billy shakes his head, “Yeah, I know Max.” He passes her the food, and adds, “You go back to your friends, I just want to say hi.” She makes a face, but silently walks away. When it’s just you and Billy, standing between stranger’s cars at the drive-in, you clear your throat, unsure where to go from here. You hadn’t thought it this far. “Hi.” He says, after a beat.

You give him a little smile. “Hi, Billy.” Nervously, you bite your lip, and add quickly, “Um, are you here with your sister?” you ask, watching as the little girl walks away to Steve Harrington’s car where the other kids are hanging out.

He nods, playing with his shirtsleeve. “Yeah, just dropping her off.” He chuckles, looking at you. “I didn’t know you came out here.”

You shrug. “Didn’t you hear? Video killed the radio star.” He laughs at that, but after, neither of you say a thing. A beat passes between the both of you, and you speak up. “You know, if your dad gets too much for you, my Dad can step in.” you say, voice low so anyone listening in around can’t hear.

Billy frowns. “Wait…that guy who you were with in the car – your dad is –,”

You nod, pocketing your hands. “Yeah. Chief Hopper.” you shrug. “Well. If that’s not enough of a buzzkill in itself, I’m sure you’re itching to go back into town to hang out with your friends…” you say.

He shrugs. “Or I could hang out with you.” He says. “if that’s cool.”

You blink, unsure if what you’re feeling is shock. “Yeah, um. I’m just here to watch the movie.” You motion to where your dad is parked with your shoulder, and add, “Would it be more of a buzzkill if we watched it with my dad…?” you propose. “He won’t admit it, but he’s lonely without my sister and me.”

Billy takes a deep breath, and after a moment’s consideration, he says, “What the hell, why not.”

You watch Superman III in the backseat of the police station wagon, ignoring your father’s wide eyes. When it comes to the credits, you ignore Jane’s wide eyes, as well as the quiet stares of her friends, including Max and Steve Harrington. The drive home is quiet too, with the exception of the moment in which your dad took the key out of the ignition once you all got back to the house.

“If _________ has a boyfriend, I want to kiss Mike.” Jane pipes up.

In the rear-view mirror, you watch your father’s face pale. “No!”

[otomeshistarlight-blog]

We’re chugging right along with the enigmatic Dabi!

1. Sleep: Dabi probably sleeps in ‘the yearner’ position, an assumption I’m basing off the personality traits associated with this pose. People who sleep like this are a little complicated: they are open-minded, yet cynical; slow and suspicious when making a decision, but stick to it once their minds are made up. If that doesn’t sound like our favorite fire-based villain, then I don’t know what does. Essentially he always looks like he’s reaching out for something that isn’t there, maybe a person or even a moment in time he remembers fondly, and as such you can’t help but feel a little morose while you watch him snooze. Something about him lying there like that just strikes you as so sad but if you ask him about it in the morning, he’ll shrug you off with a smart remark. However if you decide to lie down with him, don’t be surprised when those stretched out arms snake their way around your body and pull you in tight against the front of his chest. He doesn’t look it, but he’s actually quite the cuddler - at least when he’s asleep anyway. In fact, you’ll be hard pressed to disengage from his embrace if you find yourself needing to pee in the middle of the night so you’d better use the bathroom before bedtime. I almost want to describe him as being a clingy bed partner but possessive might be a slightly more accurate term. He snores on occasion, softly and only for a few minutes at a time, and he’s a pretty solid sleeper so you wont have to worry about accidentally getting hit in the face. Definitely hogs the blankets though so be prepared for a game of tug-o-war.

2. Sad: Dabi is a pretty aloof individual anyway but I think you’d easily be able to tell when he was feeling a little down. Rather than simply looking sleepy like usual, his eyes would take on a more hollow expression and the corners of his mouth would pinch around his scarred flesh. He may not be able to hide his emotions well but he’d certainly be loathe to open up about it in an honest way, defensively guarding the truth until you either dropped the subject or he forced you to drop it. Rather than being cold, he’s simply a secretive person out of necessity and burying his emotions is pretty much second nature at this point. If you managed to break his walls down enough that he trusted you, implicitly and unequivocally, he would eventually choose the most inopportune time to come clean about what he was feeling. Maybe it would be something as domestic as when you were brushing your teeth before bed or maybe in the middle of dinner without any forewarning to the sudden topic change but, more than likely, I see it happening when the mood is decidedly inappropriate. Perhaps right in the middle of sex, his attempt at really startling you, or even in the middle of a heated argument that has absolutely nothing to do with his emotions and he’d likely take great pleasure in seeing you rattled at the sudden announcement. Any sort of confession in this regard would be used as leverage for him to get the upper hand rather than him actually wanting to talk about his feelings. 

3. Happy: Dabi is only truly happy when he’s the direct cause of chaos and mayhem, or when he inadvertently finds himself standing in the middle of such a scene. The negatively charged energy and bad vibes that radiate off a situation like this, whether that be a disorganized bar brawl or a burning building collapsing around him, makes his skin crawl in the best way imaginable. It feeds him, stoking him like an open air flame, and it just gets him more amped up with each passing second. He’s used to going about things as a lone wolf of sorts, and he’s more than content with this, but I think he’d be pleasantly surprised to find that having a partner in crime just makes the end results all the more satisfying. You’d need to be able to keep up with him without slowing him down, and it would also help if you were just as fearless as he was, but he’d truly enjoy having you along for the ride. After all, two pairs of hands are better than one and he absolutely lives for that moment where you can pull the metaphorical grenade pin together and watch everything come crashing down. The adrenaline fueled sex afterwards is nothing to shake your finger at either.

4. Angry/Violent: Dabi is, for the most part, a relatively laid back kind of guy. Rather than getting angry, he prefers to focus on spitting arsenic laced words and dripping thick sarcasm from every syllable but by no means is he immune to bouts of rage. Actually, his are some of the most explosive you’re likely to see any time soon and its best to stick clear when he finds himself in one of these moods. I can easily see him absolutely scorching a place to the ground during one of these blind meltdowns but, on a slightly more subdued note, I certainly don’t put basic property damage past him. Punching holes in the wall, throwing/breaking furniture, smashing windows, etc. However, it would take an awful lot to get him to this point and, although I don’t think he could be talked down after already going off the deep end, there is that possibility that you could potentially diffuse the situation before it got that far. It would be best to try and get him to walk away from whatever was upsetting him enough that he’d drop his smart mouthed attitude, but if you were the cause of his little temper tantrum ... may god help you.

5. Sex: Dabi strikes me as an experimental and fun partner whose not restricted by basic notions of what is and isn’t acceptable to do in the bedroom. Or an alleyway. Or in the bathroom of a seedy bar. Or anywhere really. The point is, he’s down for basically whatever, whenever the mood strikes him. He’s just living his life and trying to have a good time so I definitely think he’d need a lover with as few inhibitions as him. An innocent partner would be fun to tease and taking advantage of their naivety would be something he’d take great joy in, but eventually that would get old. He wants to be excited by the act and experience the rush and thrill of doing something decidedly bad with someone who enjoys it just as much as him. Perhaps this is simply an act of rebellion, lashing out against the society that tried to tame his spirit, or maybe he’s just a legitimate freak in the sack. Either way, I know I’m picking up whatever he’s putting down. He doesn’t have much interest in the slow and steady technique, much preferring to go to town with foundation shaking enthusiasm, but if the right moment called for it he could be persuaded to take it down a notch. Like, say, if he had you pinned to a pool table in the farthest corner of a crowded bar and he just ever so inconspicuously lifted your skirt up .... 

6. Living Quarters: Dabi is a controlled mess in every facet of his life. He strikes me as a mostly nomadic villain who doesn’t stay in one place for too long, jumping from abandoned building to backrooms in strip clubs and sometimes even landing on a couch in a veritable meth den. Its not glamorous and its not pretty, but its the life he’s chosen for himself. He likely does have a little nesting spot to call his own, one thats secluded and hard to find, perhaps an underground bunker of sorts that no one knows about, where he can keep what little personal belongings he owns. But he doesn’t go there very often, just when the mood strikes him, and he always half expects the place to be raided and empty every time he stops by. I’m very doubtful about Tomura giving him or any of the others a place to stay above the bar - I don’t know if that building would even necessarily be outfitted with bedrooms anyway, and that kind of generosity would ride on the implication that Tomura actually liked Dabi as a fellow person. Which, given their sassy back and forth banter, doesn’t exactly seem to be the case. I’m eagerly awaiting more details concerning this in canon and I do so hope that Horikoshi delivers.  

7. Romantic: Dabi doesn’t appear to have a romantic bone in his body, much preferring general displays of lust to communicate his attraction and also the occasional lewd gestures that are sure to raise a few eyebrows. Its not even that he isn’t aware of how these kinds of things work, its just that he has no interest and they, quite frankly, bore him. He appears to be a rebel without a cause and everything about him screams to me ‘fuck the man’ so of course he’s going to do the exact opposite of what he was always told to do. But more than that, if he wanted a normal relationship with normal parameters that didn’t feature high stakes then he wouldn’t have become a villain. I think its obvious that he doesn’t want ‘normal’ and in fact I’d be willing to bet that, if anything, he’d look for something as abnormal as you could possibly get. That being said, I could see him showing his affection by giving you gifts in the form of stolen trinkets or maybe taking you to get a piercing. Or maybe doing it himself. The closest he’d probably get to actual romanticism would be some of the pragmatic, obscurely prophetic nonsense I could easily see him spouting at random. The kind of stuff that makes you feel like the center of his world and like a speck of dust all at the same time. 

8. Family & Friends: Dabi is ... an enigma for good reason. I don’t necessarily feel comfortable even taking a stab at this one because, while I do subscribe to the theory that he’s a Todoroki, there are far too many different angles to approach that from for me to even begin making an accurate prediction. Based on the evidence, I do think that he’s Endeavor’s second oldest son and all of the coincidental pussyfooting around him and his real identity is suspicious as hell but the exact details are as good as anyones guess. Was he a failed experiment? Shoto version 1.0? Was he jealous that Shoto was the chosen one instead of him? Did he get burnt up trying to protect Shoto? Like, there are just way too many possibilities and not enough facts to base anything off of at this point. And thats not even mentioning the fact he not only could have been, but likely was, an entirely different person before becoming a villain, which only further muddles this topic. He’s not the same, unhinged psychopath that Toga is (and damn, do I love her) so that seems to imply that he wasn’t always this way. Anything I could say to answer this question would be pure conjecture unlike the rest of this post so I don’t even want to take a stab in the dark here. 

9. Hobbies: Dabi seems like the sort who’d enjoy playing pool and darts, typical leisure activities you’d find in a bar, and maybe some artistic outlets like painting. I doubt he has a lot of down time though so I see him being more of an ‘out looking for trouble’ kind of guy who somehow manages to find himself in increasingly improbably situations. I also think he’d be into gambling, even just on a basic level, but he’d no doubt be quite good at it with that poker face of his. 

10. Likes/Dislikes: Dabi likes chaos, whether causing it or simply being stuck in the middle of it, quiet places to wind down in after all the fun has been said and done, adrenaline fueled situations and interesting people/things. He dislikes those who look down on him for any reason, being bored or otherwise unstimulated and soap box preachers. 

11. Childhood: Again, this is something I just can’t make an educated guess about and I apologize for that.

12. Old Age: Dabi likely doesn’t see himself reaching old age given both his lifestyle and his penchant for trouble. I also view him as having the ‘live fast, die young’ sort of mindset that only exacerbates his thrill seeking nature and the only thing thats kept him alive this long are his goals ... whatever those may be. Revenge? Making a point? Again, conjecture! 

13. Cooking: Dabi isn’t much of a cook but after fending for himself for so long, he’s got the basics down. He can prep a cup of instant ramen like no ones business and he makes a mean grilled cheese. But thats about the extent of his culinary skills and he doesn’t get a chance to polish them all that often as I imagine he’d be more inclined to find someone (or a couple someones) who were willing to give him handouts for one reason or another. Regardless, he appears thin enough that food doesn’t seem to be a top priority and he likely takes scraps whenever he can get them. He looks like he’d be a fan of spicy food though. The hotter the better. 

14. Random: Dabi’s favorite positions are the Downward Dog, because he likes wrestling you underneath him and pinning you down in a prone position thats just perfect for hitting your g-spot. He does so love making you scream until your throat is hoarse, after all. 

The Pile Driver, for much of the same reasons

and of course the Reverse Cowgirl because he strikes me as an ass man and he loves nothing more than watching yours bounce on his dick.

Dabi is, almost without a doubt, a kinky little bastard and I could easily see him incorporating various forms of bondage and power play dynamics into a relationship. I think he’d find any kind of piercing play especially tantalizing and risky public sex seems like it would likewise be at the top of his list. Rather than having one angle he prefers to go in at, he’d actually enjoy trying out all kinds of different things to see what sticks, whats just kind of eeh, and what ends in disastrous failure. Never a dull moment with this one, be ready for the ride of your life if you choose to ignore all the warning signs and climb on board anyway.

[lambent-loser]

He’s Pretty In Pink

Chapter 1

A reddie Pretty in Pink AU where Richie works in a record store and meets the cutest little rich kid he’s ever laid eyes on.

Word Count: 2064 

The familiar scent of petrichor lingers in the autumn air. The simple smell the morning rain has left on the surrounding damp sidewalks is enough to cause a smile to tug at the corners of the brunette’s lips. Richie Tozier is a man of simple pleasures. All his life he’s grown up without much, so he learned quickly to enjoy the small things in life. This makes him a pretty optimistic person by comparison to most others at 18. So even as the moisture from the weather seeps through the canvas of his hand-me-down converse high-tops, he smiles to himself, enamored by the way the rain can wash away the scent of the city, even if only for a few hours. It’s pleasant.

           He nods his head to the rhythm of the music coming from the cassette in his Walkman. Richie bought the device with his very first paycheck and he has yet to regret the purchase. He uses it daily to play the music he buys at a discount from the record shop he works at after school. The place is called High-Voltage Records, which Richie deemed a ‘bitchin’’ name the day he found out they were hiring. He’s been working there for four years now and he genuinely enjoys the job.

           Richie walks into the empty store and dances his way to the backroom without a care in the world. There he comes face to face with his absolute best friend. Richie met Beverly Marsh his first day on the job. He later found out the girl had been hired only a month or so prior to himself. One thing everyone needs to understand about Beverly is that she is beyond beautiful. She isn’t pretty in a conventional way. No, she’s confident with a glare that could stop your breath in your throat. Her hair holds almost as much fire as her gaze and her freckle spattered cheeks hold a softness that reminds Richie of early summer mornings before the heat becomes unbearable.  When he first saw her that day four years ago, Richie was convinced he’d found his soulmate. Now, of course, they laugh about it.

           “’Ello, Ms. Marsh. Top o’ the mornin’ to ya,” he greets in an obnoxious British accent as he removes his headphones. Richie believes he is a master of accents and impressions, but Beverly seems to think otherwise. He doesn’t get it and he will never stop calling himself comedy gold.

           Beverly rolls her eyes and finishes pinning on her nametag that has been decorated with various stickers.

“Okay. For one, Rich, it’s literally three in the afternoon and also… your accent is bad,” she insists for at least the fiftieth time that week.

           Richie attaches his own nametag to his patched-up jean jacket and adjusts his glasses.

“Oh, c’mon, Bev. Don’t be so mean to me,” he pouts with a grin.

They both head onto the main floor and Beverly turns on the blue and red neon light that displays to the public that the shop is open while Richie unlocks the door. The lanky boy sifts through the stash of music behind the counter and chuckles before picking out Duran Duran’s Rio album. It’s fairly new but both he and Bev have most of the songs memorized since it’s so popular. The ginger rolls her eyes at his album choice, but when “Hungry Like The Wolf” begins to play through the old speakers even she starts to sing along.

She and Richie have developed some kind of awfully choreographed dance to several songs including this one, so they confidently dance around the vacant store to the tune as they sing out of key. This is how days usually are at the shop: filled with smiles, laughter, and bad dancing. Sometimes Richie will even let Bev paint his nails or do his makeup while they talk about cute boys AND girls when business is slow. That’s another thing the two found out they have in common.

Despite their conversations, neither Beverly nor Richie have been very successful in their pursuit of love. Both are rather quirky and don’t really fit in anywhere. While life at the record store is good, this means that social life at school is challenging for them both. The only reason either of them is even able to attend the preparatory school is because an equal education initiative was passed five years ago that required a percentage of the student body to come from families with incomes below the poverty line. At Harrison Prep, these students became known as, for the most part, freaks.

Richie is good at dealing with things like that. He’s good at smiling through the insults and coming up with clever comebacks. Sure, he dresses weird and cracks a sinful amount of jokes, but he doesn’t see how that makes him ‘freakish’. If being a freak means being confident and having a good time, then he doesn’t mind the insult. He feels a lot happier than all the other students at school look.

Beverly is not as confident as Richie. In the moment she is witty and sassy and is able to defend herself just fine, but it’s in the days following that the words get to her. Sometimes Richie catches her crying in the backroom and he rushes to the convenience store across the street to pick her up a pint of ice cream. It’s a good thing they have each other because both hate to be alone. So much so that they made a pact that if neither were married by thirty-five they would get married for tax purposes.

School the next day is bad. Beverly is sick so Richie is alone. It’s absolutely boring and Richie can hardly stand it, but he makes it through the day. As he steps out of the school to begin his trek to High-Voltage, he’s stopped by an especially nasty brute named Henry Bowers. He really doesn’t get how he can be called a freak while this kid wanders around.

“Where do you think you’re going, freak?”

Richie saw it coming, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying.

“To my job, because unlike you, my daddy doesn’t buy me anything I want.”

Sometimes Richie’s trash mouth gets him into trouble. The beefy boy throws Richie into the brick wall of the school and pins him there.

“What did you just say to me, faggot?!” he spits.

Richie rolls his eyes.

“Does that ugly ass mullet of yours fucking muffle sound? I said you’re a Daddy’s boy, Bowers!” he retorts.

Lots of trouble.

Henry punches him in the stomach and Richie is down. He continues his assault until he grows bored with Richie’s lack of retaliation. He spits on him before stalking away. The brunette groans in disgust and sits up, wincing at the sharp pains emanating from several places on his body.

After gathering himself, he heads to the record store. He still must cover his shift after all, even with Bev sick. Business is slow, so he uses it as an opportunity to clean up in the grimy bathroom that he has grown quite fond of. The crack in the mirror and the scent of a cheap air freshener have somehow managed to become comforting to the shaggy-haired boy. Even after cleaning up, Richie is left with a nasty looking black eye and a shallow gash on his right cheek.

He returns to the counter and takes a seat, resting his feet beside the cash register. He grabs a comic book and flips to the page he left off on, adjusting his glasses every once in a while when they slide down his nose. Richie isn’t sure how much has passed when he hears the bell on the door chime, announcing the arrival of a customer.

Richie lowers his comic book just enough to peer over the top and nearly chokes on the air in his lungs. There, browsing the rows of vinyl records is the cutest fucking boy he’s ever seen. He’s got this neatly styled brown hair and these chocolate eyes that Richie thinks he might get lost staring onto. He’ll have to get a closer look, but he’s pretty sure the short boy has light freckles dusting his flushed cheeks. It must be chilly outside for his cheeks to be so red. Suddenly Richie is very self-conscious about the temperature of the store. It’s warm enough for him, right? He shakes the silly worry from his head and musters the courage to stand. Richie is naturally confident, but something about this boy makes his stomach churn with the same kind of anxiety you get right before your first kiss.  

Richie pushes his glasses up on his nose and makes his way over to where the stranger is browsing.

“Can I help you find anything?” he queries. This is his job after all. Nothing weird about that.

           Eddie glances at the store clerk. He takes notice of his ripped-up clothes, dirty shoes, and messy curls. For a moment, Richie thinks the boy is checking him out and he gets very excited before he notices the slight wrinkle in his nose. So that’s how it’s going to be. It’s only now that Richie pays any mind to what the boy is wearing. He’s dressed in short, ironed shorts and a pastel pink crewneck with a yellow collared shirt poking out of the collar. He looks cute in it all, but it’s clear he’s another one of the wealthier kids.

Eddie narrows his eyes at the scrappy clerk and shakes his head.

“No. I think I’ve got it. Thanks,” he mutters. His voice is dry and laced with a sassy bite. Richie rather likes the sound.

Richie may be too confident at times, but that also leads to persistence. He’s no quitter. He flips through some records and after a moment he selects one from a milk crate. He taps the small boy on the shoulder and in response he whips around, glaring daggers at Richie for scaring him.

“Hey, don’t get your panties in a twist, princess. I just have a music suggestion,” he offers, handing him the record.

Eddie takes it with a persistent frown.

“I told you I didn’t need help, and my name is Eddie. Don’t call me princess!” he demands with his hands on his hips.

Richie just likes him more and more…or at least he likes getting under his skin. Richie just shrugs.

“Well, Eddie Spaghetti, I just thought you might like that one. It’s one of my favorites,” he explains with a warm smile.

Eddie groans in response to the horrid nickname and turns away from Richie to keep looking, completely ignoring the glasses-clad boy. Richie returns to the register and watches the boy curiously. Honestly, Eddie seems horribly lost surrounded by all the music and it’s almost as if he’s clutching onto the album Richie suggested for dear life. After nearly five more minutes of aimlessly wandering the shop, Eddie finally approaches the register, setting Richie’s suggestion on the counter to be purchased.

“So, you decided to trust me after all, didn’t you, Eds?” he teases with a smirk. He leans down across the counter and gets really close to the short boy. “I promise you won’t regret it,” he purrs, pulling away to punch in the price.

Eddie huffs.

“It better be good if I’m paying seven dollars for it,” he grumbles, his face flushed.

Richie peers at him and then back at the register.

“I’ll give you the cutie discount. Five dollars please.”

Eddie’s cheeks are burning as he digs through his fanny pack and hands Richie a five-dollar bill. Before the taller boy can even put the record in a bag, Eddie snatches it off the counter and dashes out of the store, mumbling a barely audible ‘thanks’ on the way.

Richie watches him through the window and a breathes a soft sigh.

Eddie.

Beverly may be like a warm summer morning, but Eddie is like the hot midday. He’s running without shoes on and racing to eat popsicles before they melt into your hand and he’s the sun kissing your skin until the heat is burned into your very being. Eddie Kaspbrak is nothing like Richie Tozier has ever experienced before.

He has a feeling he’s going to be seeing a lot more of him.

Tag List: @delaina123  

[sainadazai]

Chapter 4

A/n ahh yesterday was bakugous birthday I love him oml everyone say happy birthday even though its late

"They say clothes make the pros, ladies and gentlemen. And behold you are the proof." all might spoke, smiling brightly as everyone exited the changing rooms.

You walked out in a group, making it difficult to see everyones costumes, but you caught a glimpse of some that were rather cool. All Might seemed to think as well his words being "This is getting me all ramped up, you look so cool!" He really is too excited for his own good.

As everyone had finally taken their places, standing scattered in a bunch of costume-clad teens, you could finally look around and take in some of the impressive ideas your classmates had. Momo, wearing a quite revealing one-piece that was a beautiful red, contrasting with a yellow belt. It was showy, but you wouldn't say she looked anything less than badass.

Might be difficult to fight her while she wears it, though. You would want any mishaps to happen for the perverts around here, or in here.

"Woah! L/n I like your costume! It fits your quirk, haha" Momo approached you, as she laughed joyfully.

It better. This hero suit design had been in the works since you were just a preschooler. A skin-tight silver body suit that stops in the middle of your thigh. Two purple stripes going down either side from the shoulder down. A zipper, metal obviously, by the slightly turtlenecked top that goes halfway down your bust. On your hands, purple fingerless gloves, with concealed brass knuckles to benefit hand to hand combat.

Then, around your left thigh, a garter that also served as storage for small capsules of your own blood, just in case you're in need of something metal, and would be at risk if you cut yourself. The capsules are secured in little pockets around the garter, a pop of red to the otherwise shiny grey costume.

However, the favorite part ever since you were little, was the boots. They were a shiny purple that rose tightly up to your lower thighs, they were fireproof material with removable silver heels. Why? Well so that you can shoot them off using your quirk at any point in battle,or, if liquified, could be used to make you float.

This was an idea you and your mom thought of after seeing a movie where a girl shot bullets from her high heels, she told you that that was a badass woman moment, and ever since badass has been your favorite compliment to give. That was at age 7. Finishing off the costume you wore thick silver and purple glasses that scanned objects for metals and told you what metals they were, to make things easier to manipulate and multiply.

"I-am sorry-"

"L/n!"

"Sorry, um thanks! Yours looks badass, too. "

"Thanks L/n."

The two of you made your way over to jirou and continued to talk, or try to talk while stuttering. As they spoke to you, subconsciously you kept on the lookout for Todoroki. He was nowhere to be seen in the mess of teens, but you did spot Midoriya having what looked to be a seizure as he conversed with a very revealed Uraraka. She looked beautiful,too. Even though her suit was skin tight, it fit her well, showing her curves in a modest but flattering way. Her most gorgeous feature,though, was her hair, so instead of your eyes lingering on her body in its glory, you found yourself entranced with the shine of her hair, and the blush on her cheeks.

Even though you were stuck in your own attempts at conversation, not paying attention to the half and half boy anymore, he was paying attention to you. His eyes stuck to your face as it smiled and your eyes when they brightened. Wandering down to your chest, luckily zipped up and away from the observing eye, your curves every little dip around your waist and hip, your legs, thigh, calf, all the muscles you'd worked to obtain since childhood. Todoroki was entranced by you, and how you looked like a hero already.

He wondered if the girls had made you their friend since you were shy, if they took you in and wanted to be your friend since you didn't have the words to ask them yourself. If so, should he do the same? It seemed to work for them, he might need to re-think his plan.

You both were brought away from your separate places as Iida spoke.

"This is the fake city from our entrance exam." He spoke robotically, from inside a full armored suit.

You looked around, not previously noticing this was indeed one the cities from the exam. "Will we be conducting urban battles again?"

"Not quite,I'm going to move you two steps ahead!" All Might gestured the number two with his fingers.

"Most of the villain fights you see on the news happen outside. However, statistically speaking, the most disastrous villain fights happen indoors. Think about it, backroom deals, home invasions,secret underground layers. Truly intelligent criminals stay hidden in the shadows. For this training exercise you'll be split into heroes and villains and perform two on two battles."

The girl from lunch, with the frog quirk, spoke up, "Isn't this a little advanced?"

The pro simply smiled "The best training is what you get on the battlefield,"

"Wouldn't call this a battlefield.." you mumbled, looking around at all your classmates who you supposed would be villains soon. How did he expect other hero students to be able to play the villain? You understood that getting in a villain's mind might be important, but really how good could anyone do?

"But remember you can just punch a robot this time, you're dealing with actual people now."

"Sir, will you be the one deciding who wins?"

"How much can we hurt the other team?"

"Do we need to worry about the losers getting expelled like earlier-"

-

You walked down the concrete path keeping All Mights words in mind.

"The situation is this: the villains have hid a nuclear missile somewhere in their hideout. The heroes must try to soil their plans. To do that the good guys either have to catch the evil do-ers, or apprehend the weapon. Likewise the bad guys succeed if they protect their payload or capture the heroes."

Next to you stood a tall, blonde haired boy with a tail, he'd asked you to call him ojiro. The two of you, much to your dislike, were meant to play villains. Another dislike, you'd be going up against Shoto Todoroki and Mezo Shoji. After thinking it through, you figured they could use Shoji's ears and other heightened senses to find the two of you, and Todoroki would probably just freeze you. How could you fight if you couldn't move, right? Wrong.

Ferrokinesis is the manipulation of metal through the mind. You had especially trained yourself to combat without using a single bone in your body, it just takes concentrated breathing. It might have been nice to inform your partner of that, to ease his mind, and maybe plan some sort of strategy, but you haven't been able to speak outside of greeting him. Thus, you entered the tall building silently and stood by the missile, waiting for the "Heroes" to come.

"Uhm, L/n, did what happened earlier make this whole thing a lot more...scary?" He began, startling you by initiating conversation.

"Um, what do you mean by that? Like Midoriya and Bakugou fighting?" You questioned, a lot more comfortable considering you were just alone with him.

"Yeah, like seeing how real it can get, you know.." his face screamed nervousness, and that really wouldn't help the two of you, plus you needed to get into a villain mindset, still.

"No, you see, the fact that things might get more real now, it'll only help us. Recovery girl is there to heal any injuries later, so I say we should all fight like that. Well, not like- I- you"

"I get it."

"Uhm, yeah, if we all give it one hundred and ten percent, that's how we will actually get better, and maybe learn how to handle ourselves in different situations. If things go bad now, it'll be easy, we just get really angry and mean like bakugou, perfect villains, ha"

"Heheh, yeah, your right L/n"

"S-yeah, thanks"

You suddenly felt cold rising from below, guess you were right about that. Feeling proud of yourself, you decided to indulge the part of the villain just a bit more. Earlier had simply been two kids talking, but now, you'd strut your heels and be the scariest female they'd ever seen, or try at least.

"Mmm, why must heroes be so predictable!" You stomped and let out a crazed pout.

Ojiro was taken back by your sudden behavioral change, not knowing how you and dad used to play hero and villain all the time. His eyebrows raised in question at your statement, and he took a few steps away. The task to become villains totally forgotten as he watched you throw a fit.

"Damn todoroki, it's cold up here now! Don't you fools get it. Missiles need heat. C'mon then pretty boy, hurry up and freeze us so we can see that dumb hero smirk! I know you want too~" You were talking to the floor, swinging your arms and legs around as you paced back and forth. Trying your best not to overthink the cheesy, embarrassing words coming from your mouth.

"Frozen?"

Turning to your partner you shot him a smirk, "Yeah, pretty boy thinks he can immobilize us from outside, pft. How silly of him, thinking I'd go down without dinner first." Your words were getting out of hand. Was this what villains were like, or were you just hiding some secret vulgar persona? He was confused until he saw the strained tears building in your wide eyes. You were doing this against your own nature, trying your best to succeed.

"So then, um L/n, you must have quite the plan to escape these pros and keep our missile intact, hahaha" His fake laughs were nowhere near as good as yours, but it eased you that he was trying.

Meanwhile, Shoji was waiting behind Todoroki, face completely red and eyes wide. He heard your comments easily, and was completely frozen on the image of, well, what you had insinuated.

"Why are you red?" todoroki questioned, as his teammate looked incredibly flustered. Had he done something to fluster shoji? He didn't think so.

"G-go, um, L/- she" he short circuited before he could finish, being completely flustered and no longer functional.

"Alright..."

Todoroki continued his way up the several floors of the building now covered in ice, having been told where the two of you were hiding along with the missile. His feet crunched loudly against the ice covered floors, a smirk residing on his face. The boy was a little upset at first that his first interaction with you would be like this.

However, images of his father in his mind made him remember his purpose for being here. He was supposed to be the best, and you were supposed to be a villain. Number one heroes dont take pity on a villain just because she's cute.

"This quirk is insane," He heard your partner speak before entering the room. Upon showing his face, Ojiro was quick to take a defensive stance, while you were off in the corner of the room, leaning against a wall, feet equally stuck to the ground.

"Pry yourself up if you want, but it might be hard to fight me with no skin on the bottom of your feet." He smirked.

Shoto was continuing to walk towards the missile, thinking he'd won. Until he heard two little clicks from the corner.

"God, they really have to stop catering these trainings to my quirk, pft. God, ice is slippery."

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, your feet seemed to be free of ice, and the floor where they had been stuck showed two irregular lumps of stiff concrete. How? He thought you manipulated metal? Were there metals in concrete?

"God, I really do love these glasses," you tapped them. "Make my life a lot easier, less scientific novels and what not." the voice you had was so casual, were you pretending to be shy this whole time? Or were you just a really good fake villain. He felt like you were a real villain, eyes perking up a bit at the idea of a challenge.

"Lets see, how many walls do you think I could drop on you before the building collapses? Two, maybe three? Or I could just tie you up, huh?"

He smirked, "Oh really, shy-girl? I'd like to see you try.."

His words shot through your act like a bullet, piercing you right in the heart. His voice should not be allowed to sound like that. It's unfair, cheating even. Your face changed from confident to wavering and hands began sweat. Could you really hurt him? You saw bakugou hurt midoriya earlier, he did it like second nature, but you wanted to be a hero, learn about villains and put them away, so you proceeded. This was your chance to show off your combat skills.

Zipping down the zipper on your chest, you remove the tiny holder for it, causing it to fall in your palm and begin to liquify. Your glasses told you the different metals in it, and that allowed you to focus on multiplying them, closing your eyes as the liquid began to grow.

Your partner was staring between the two of you, hoping whatever you were about to do was successful, since his feet really did hurt. Suddenly your finger began making a circular movement, the metallic liquid mimicking it. It flowed in a ring of silver around your middle body.

"Metal is a fun element, you know. It's easily found in almost every environment, easy to hide, and disobeys many scientific theories. Like this liquid metal here, it looks normal, but it only gets this way by becoming scorching hot." You winked at no one in particular and swung your finger down in a straight line, a mini-mimic of Iida's air chopping.

The hot fluid melted the concrete in a straight line on the floor, ice and ground in that area being dissolved completely. It felt good to use your power to win, you could tell from his eyes todoroki was scared. Maybe you were stronger than you thought?

Losing, however, was not what he was scared of. The wave of heat that fell over him after your swing sent him into terrible memories. His scar began to itch and burn at the recognition of heat. You saw that, too. How his fear held deeper meaning, and it made you scared of yourself. You didn't want to be a villain anymore, you just wanted this to be over, your eyes almost welled with tears at how mean you'd been, acting like the villain.

"I-um-ugh" Your foot stomped down on the floor, slipping a bit but forcing concrete to envelope the boy's feet, while simultaneously forcing the ground up and the temperature just hot enough to free your partner.

"J-Just, where's Shoji?"

"I'll get him, since you did the fighting here, l/n...." Ojiro stated, running out of the room, having been uncomfortable with the tension.

The next words to come out of your mouth should have been expected, but never had they meant so much to todoroki. His eyes were back to normal, face stone once again. Trying to pretend that fear he felt, those memories, were never there. Steel walls being put up once again to hide away hid feelings, but you manipulate metal.

Your e/c eyes shoot to look at the scar around his left eye and then back to his whole face. Taking a few steps closer to him, ignoring the teachers yell of how your team had won, you whispered.

"Im so sorry."

No one else would understand it, not the other students watching intently from the observation room, not your partners downstairs, but he did. Shoto heard those words, and felt your eyes lingering on it, and his chest got tight. You knew, and you didnt call it ugly, and you stopped using heat because you knew.

It was your job to be the villain at any cost, but you worked harder to not use heat. You weren't just sorry for scaring him, but for the fact that he had to be scared. So he spoke to you, for the first serious time, saying the only words that felt appropriate.

"Thank you."

[totallyrealhoroscopesdaily]

1/1/2018 Horoscope

Aries: Death sends you a selfie of him looking comically sad and you snap. You call him and you barely wait for him to pick up before you start your rant because god damn it how could he not care this wasn’t some random person this was a little girl and she wanted to grow up to be a nurse because she wanted to cheer up other sick kids like the nurses always did and she had a phase where everything had to be either red or orange and she had a family who loved her very much and her dad always gave you commiserating looks if one of the other kids asked for something impossible or tried to tug your fake beard and oh gods how are you going to face him well shit never mind you’ll never see him again because he definitely won’t be at the hospital now that his daughter is fucking dead why would you see him again but she had so many people who loved her and she loved so many people and she had a future she was so bright maybe she would have cured cancer or changed the world but she’s gone now she’s GONE and she’s never coming back and fuck- You trail off and wipe at your eyes. Your hand stings from hitting the table at some point. Death’s been quiet, just letting you ramble on. After you’re silent but for sniffling for another minute, he gently asks if you’re okay. You hang up.

Taurus: You’re scattered and flying, running, rocketing around in a twisty, twirly, angular pattern that has no pattern. You’re a million and you’re one and you’re laughing crying screaming singing. You rot the wallpaper and it sprouts into greenery and the floor bucks and heaves and opens and closes and the furniture is your dancing partner is your prey to hunt is your predator to hide from is your machine to build is your meaningless possessions. You’re light and you’re sound and you’re feeling and you’re taste and you’re thoughts and you’re empty empty empty and you’re so much of everything and you’re too much to hold and you’re not enough at all. When the sun starts to rise you coalesce, condense back into something solid and you’re you but not, you but shifted a few notches out of place while also being completely new. You open your eyes again and you’re back, but you’re gone forever. Well, goodbye to the old you, you think to yourself with a shark’s grin. You shed it like old skin. You’re still jittery, pieces shaking and vibrating out of sync. You’ll settle further over the course of the day, but for now you take out your excess energy on your house. You taste purple on your tongue and bones ring in your ears. This’ll be a good year.

Gemini: The woman is outside your apartment building. She stares, unblinking and unmoving, up at your window from across the street. You shudder and pull the blinds closed. Kcirederf congratulates you on bringing the danger home, because that was just what you all needed. You tell him to cut the sass, you know you fucked up.

Cancer: You two somehow manage to get onto the roof. It’s freezing cold, because of course it is, it’s snowing. It passed midnight a while ago and this is the most sober New Year’s you’ve had. You can’t see the stars, too much light pollution, but you can see the moon and the citylights and that’s close enough. You and Ridali playfully debate whether the moon is made of cheese and what cheese it would be if it were. You heard somewhere that whatever you spend the first day of the year doing is what you’ll do the rest of the year, and if that’s true, then you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the year like this, goofing around with a good friend. 

Leo: You’re barely conscious of the bell tolling midnight before Fira’s lips are on yours. She tastes like heat and then it’s over and she’s laughing into your shoulder that it’s good luck to kiss someone at midnight. You aren’t complaining, then you twirl her giggly self around and the room is spinning, you think you had too many drinks. An unknown amount of time passes, but the party’s winding down and the sun is rising, so you gather up Fira and Georgie and Hazel and start trying to make your way home. You make up a barely upright mess of limbs, Hazel is draped across Georgie’s shoulder and Fira’s across yours and you’re trying to steer Georgie because somehow you ended up the most sober out of the 4 of you (that can drink because the foot can’t so it doesn’t count) and you must make up quite the sight as you work your way back. You somehow make it to your house and Georgie throws herself and Hazel onto your couch and then they’re out like a light. Fira is attempting to kiss your neck, but it’s more like mouthing. She is way too drunk. You put her in your bed, then yank a blanket down and crash on the floor, hugging the foot’s bag like a teddy bear. 

Virgo: You force yourself to get up and clean your house. It’s bad luck to start out the year with a dirty home and you don’t need anymore bad luck. It’s exhausting in a way that has nothing to do with the work, but it feels better to not have filthy surroundings. You debate going to do something while you’re up, but ultimately dismiss the idea. You curl up in a corner of your sofa and don’t move.

Libra: Makani passed out long before midnight. You asked Kaimana if she wants to take him home like that, she said she waited this long, she might as well wait the little bit longer and do the ritual. You and her chatted absently. Now it’s the new year and Kaimana is pouring the dregs of her tea onto the ritual circle drawn in chalk on your floor, which is gonna be annoying to clean up. She sees your look and explains she should really be using seawater but this should work. Then she turns back to it, chants some words that kinda sound like frying butter smells, which causes a glowing orb of light to rise up from the ritual circle. You have to look away when it flashes, and when you look back, the tea, orb, and ritual circle are gone and Kaimana is picking up Makani from where he’s curled up. He mumbles a bit as she settles him on your hip. She wishes you a happy New Year and leaves, and you’re left with the smell of a spring breeze permeating your backroom.

Scorpio: Ohthankeverydeitythatmortalshaveeverprayedtoyou’reawake! Shit, no, don’t get up, you’ll tear your stitches! You’re in the hospital. Breathe. What do you need? Water, you need water, you’re thirsty, of course you’re thirsty, you’ve been out for a day, I should have realized that. Look, there, beside you, there’s a thingy to call for a nurse. They can get you water and you should probably let them know you’re awake, anyway. What- No, you won’t bother them. This is their job and you’re injured- What are you doing?! Lay back down, shit- Okay, don’t move, you’ll only hurt yourself worse. Oh good, here’s a nurse to get you back into bed. You’re injured, it’s okay to need help. 

Sagittarius: The sane person support group is sharing a drink on your porch, because holy shit, but what a year. Helen shrugs a toast to a hopefully less weird year, which is a hopeless wish, and you all second it. Then Brittany toasts the unblinking eye in your kitchen, which prompts a round of laughter followed by increasingly ridiculous toasts. There’s way too much happening right now, but you all take a collective truce to pretend shit is fine for right now. This might bite you in the ass, but that’s a problem for future you to deal with.

Capricorn: The enchantress kicks you and Aiden out but keeps Fluffy with her, citing that she needs some time to work. Aiden seems worried for Fluffy, but you know the weight of someone’s word in the magical community, so you shrug and walk off. You show Aiden around the little town, grabbing lunch in this fantastic sandwich shop. It’s a wonderful thing to have a conversation you can honestly be surprised by and reactions you can’t predict. Wonderful, and a little anxiety inducing, but you have years of not giving a shit as a buffer and Aiden seems more anxious than you, anyway. A clerk snottily comments on how you really shouldn’t let your daughter dress like that, people might mistake her for a boy. Aiden shrinks down, which you’re not having, at all. You smile with too many teeth to be strictly friendly and inform the clerk, in your sweetest voice, that how your son dresses is of no concern to them and they can go shove their unwanted opinions up their ass. While the clerk is too stunned to respond, You drag a shocked Aiden out after you for a grand getaway. You’re ranting to him about stupid people and their stupid opinions and maybe they should get him a nice haircut, when he quietly says that you called him your son, which brings you up short, because, wow, that might be the first time you’ve said that out loud. You confirm it and ask if that’s okay. The pause that follows gets you the closest to wishing you could read the script for Aiden as you’ve ever been. He finally smiles and says it’s fine, and he’d like that haircut.

Aquarius: You follow your routine. You’re glad for your hat and mittens, as it’s cold. Suzy wishes you a happy New Year, which is how you learn it’s a new year, and laughs about how her gym is going to be really busy for about 2 weeks. You smile along, an involuntary reaction.

Pisces: You watch our father rise for the first time of this year. For him, this is meaningless, dear daughter, time has no grand meaning. You choose to find meaning in it, anyway, which is wonderful. You’re very tired, and you don’t have a solution for that, but for this moment you have peace.