#i just pulled their last names out of an old yearbook

[gallaghersgal]

first misses || carmen berzatto

pairing: carmy x fem!reader

warnings & tags: no warnings! fluff, fluff, and more fluff. first kiss scenario. giving carmen the sweet innocent childhood moments he deserves. growing apart but finding each other again <33

a/n: thank u to worm for the idea, and to the tumblr baddie collective for cheering me on! my first FULL length carmy fic, and my first work over 1k in ... actual years i think.

wc: 1.3k

Carmen never liked wearing glasses. they fogged up too often, or slipped down the bridge of his nose. and one time, when he was eleven years old, they just about ruined his life.

You were the prettiest girl in the fifth grade, a Chicago transplant, and the apple of every little boy's eye. But you only had eyes for one Carmen Berzatto. The day you made him hold your hand to cross the street on the field trip to the art museum, he knew he couldn't let summer roll around without telling you how he felt. But Mikey teased him, and Sugar tried her best but her advice sounded too motherly, so Carmen was left to plot for himself.

He still remembers that day, the last day of fifth grade. The pretty gingham dress with the little bow you wore—your Dorothy dress, as you called it—and your hair tied up to play field games with the other kids waiting at pickup. He had tugged you behind the bleachers with nervous, sweaty palms, thankful that you didn't notice or at the very least held back any comments.

"I wanna kiss you," he blurted out, cheeks turning pink at the admission. "C-Can i kiss you?"

You looked down at your feet for a minute, tennis shoe toe digging into the gravel, before you looked up at him. "Um, sure!" you grinned shyly, and Carmen felt like his world was skidding to a halt right then and there. "I've never kissed anyone before. like, on the lips?"

"I-I h-haven't either," he stammered, his face going pale with nerves. His hands began to shake when you stepped up closer.

"That's okay, I think it's easy."

You held out your hand until Carmen took it, then closed your eyes to lean in. He couldn't help but stare curiously, and the moment unfolded before his eyes. Before you could kiss him, your brow ran right into the wireframe of his glasses. You pulled back, a little startled, one eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, 'm s-sorry," he said nervously, watching as you scrunch your nose in concentration. Before he knew what was happening you'd leaned in again. Your lips barely brushed his, those stupid glasses still in the way, but it was a kiss. It counted.

You pulled back with a wide grin, "there! Now we had our first kiss!"

Carmen wanted to say something, he really did. Maybe ask to sign your yearbook, or if you’d want to come see a movie with him, but the teacher was calling your name. You had to leave. You had to leave, and Carmen didn't know if he'd see you at all, for the whole summer. His little heart ached at the thought of not seeing your smile. Not hearing your laugh. Missing the way you always smelled like strawberries and vanilla from your little hand sanitizer, the one he always asked to borrow after recess.

But at that moment you were standing in front of him, with that same pretty grin, and throwing your arms around him for a quick hug. You turned to leave, then turned back, just to surprise him with a sweet kiss to his cheek. "Bye Carmy! Have a good summer!" you said, before running off.

And Carmen just stood there, awestruck.

Sure, he saw you again the next year, but a lot happened that summer. The transition to middle school was a big one, you weren't in any classes together, and year by year the two of you grew apart until Carmen was halfway across the country and you were nothing but a memory.

He didn't see you again until, god, at least thirteen years later. He wasn't sure how long it had been. He wasn't even sure how he'd managed to bump into you. But a few hours and a coffee later you'd given him your number. And that night you'd texted him; would you wanna go out, like on a date? i couldn't bring myself to ask you face to face. but i think it would be nice. just lmk :)

And it was nice. you wore a dress that looked amazing against your skin, and he got to finally tell you how pretty you were, after all the years of silence. After the days spent sketching you in the margins of his notebooks, peering at you from across the cafeteria, and showing up to football games just to get a glimpse of you with your friends. You looked beautiful as ever, and he made sure to tell you. 

“Y’know, I always thought you were so pretty” he mumbled, sounding reverent as he stood outside your apartment door. Your back was against your door, hands not even bothering with pushing it open. 

“That’s really sweet, Carmy,” you whispered. One hand raised up to touch his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. His cheeks were tinted a soft pink, that same lovely color you’d see when you were young. The one you’d crack jokes, give lingering glances, and throw compliments his way just to see. 

Carmen’s eyes fluttered closed, like he was committing your image to memory. Maybe he was. 

“Do you remember the last day of fifth grade?” you asked cautiously, waiting for him to open his eyes before continuing. “When we kissed under the bleachers?” His embarrassment was written across his face, cheeks flushed and eyes cast down to the floor. You took one curl by the side of his face around your finger, twirled it into a perfect little spiral just to let it go again. Patiently, you waited for him to speak.

“Y-Yeah, yeah. I remember,” he replied with a quiet laugh. “I went home and begged my mom not to make me wear glasses anymore. As if she could’ve done anything about my shitty eyesight,” he added with a scoff.

“Hm. Well, I mean, I guess it worked. You got contacts, yeah? Or are you just blind as a bat?” you asked, and brought your eyes up to meet his own. “Do you wanna try again?” You tacked the last sentence on, almost like an afterthought, afraid if you took too much time to think on it you’d chicken out entirely. 

Carmen grinned, and you swore it was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. Not the tight lipped smile he often wore in photos, no, this was all teeth and sparkling eyes and joy. Like the kid under the bleachers all those years ago. 

“Bats, uhm, they- they aren’t,” he stammered, his hands shaking as they held on to your hips. “Common mistake, see, they’ve actually got-”

“Carmen,” you interrupted softly. He only hummed in response, a soft affirmative noise that let you know he wanted this too. As if the way he looked at you could’ve been interpreted any other way. “Just kiss me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. His lips were soft–if not a little chapped, but you didn’t mind–when they finally brushed yours, this time with no pesky glasses in the way. One of his hands moved up to the back of your neck, cradling you there.

To call the moment bliss would’ve been an understatement. 

When Carmen finally pulled away from you his eyes remained closed, soaking up the moment, afraid he’d look again to find it was all a dream. A dream he’d had over and over, each night as he drifted off. The sweet girl he’d once known, finally in his arms again.

When his blue eyes finally made their reappearance you were staring at him, analyzing his expression as one finger twirled around that same little curl. “You should come inside,” you told him, and he winced slightly. 

“I-I, don’t wanna fuck it up. Don't wanna rush... this,” he admitted breathlessly, to which you shook your head.

“Nothing like that. Just, don’t wanna stop talking to you,” you explained, showing your intentions were to take this slow. To learn him again, or, was it for the first time? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was his smile, as he nodded and followed you inside.

end.

main masterlist || carmy masterlist

[jessejaredstories]

One Last Adventure

“Did you find anyone yet?”

“Not yet babe, I’m still looking.”

I flipped through the pages of my old high school yearbook while my boyfriend Jack was pacing around our bedroom. He was supposed to be searching through Grindr and Tinder for potential targets, but I knew he was getting frustrated and decided not to push it. My boyfriend has always been the impatient type, but I could understand why he was getting extra antsy tonight. 

About a month ago, my boyfriend and I made a deal with a witch. In exchange for five years off of each of our lifespans, the witch would grant us the supernatural ability to take over other people’s bodies. As you can imagine, Jack and I have been generously using our new powers ever since we got them. We’ve been using them to do whatever we want as whoever we want! Getting easy access to anything we want, getting payback on anyone who’s wronged us, and probably the most fun, fucking as whoever we want. Pretty sweet ability right? 

But of course, an extraordinary power like this doesn’t come without its cost. On top of paying the witch with literal years off of our lives, there were also two conditions we needed to follow. The first condition was the time limit. We got exactly 30 days before our powers expire. Once time’s up, that’s it. No more body hopping fun. The second condition was more of a restriction than anything else. The witch said that we couldn’t just take over anyone’s body. We could only choose people both Jack and I have met in-person before. That condition really limited our options, but even so, that didn’t stop us from having as much fun as possible. 

“Hey, what about these two?” I handed Jack the yearbook with an open page. Unfortunately though, it took him less than a second to shake his head no.

“No good. I knew them but I never actually met them.”

I sighed as I took back the yearbook. Not gonna lie, I was starting to get frustrated too. We just couldn’t find any new bodies to possess! Normally, we wouldn’t get so worked over it, but tonight was different. It was our last day before our powers expired for good. Obviously we couldn’t just let our powers die out without one last body hopping escapade! But after hours of searching, it was not looking good for us…

Or so I thought. I started half-assedly looking through all the faces of our former high school classmates. It was then that two faces stuck out to me. Akshay Khan and Kabir Patel. 

“How about these two? Remember them? The Indian bros?” I asked Jack.

“Oh yeah, I remember them. Can’t say I remember much though,”

“Neither can I.”

Akshay and Kabir were known for being inseparable best friends, but that was it really. They never got involved in any school activities. That’s why they each only had one photo in the yearbook. Easy to miss, but they were still an option nonetheless. 

“C’mon, let’s check out what they’ve been up to,” I said as I pulled out my phone. 

Jack joined me on the couch. He laid against me as I typed in Akshay’s name. Luckily that was all I needed to get a hit on Instagram. His profile came up and surely enough, it was him. He had recently posted on his story too. I clicked on it and up came a picture of him and Kabir working out at some gym together.

“Whoa, they’ve really glowed up since high school. The gym’s been kind to them!” Jack let out a fox whistle when he saw the picture. I turned my head slightly to watch him checking out the goods. I could tell by the hungry look in his eyes that we just found our next targets.

“What do you say bro?” I said while lowering my voice. “You down to hit the showers after we hit this last set?” I caught Jack off guard with my bad Akshay impression, but he caught on right away. We exchanged a knowing look, then proceeded to get ready for the takeover. 

We both laid down on the ground and took deep breaths. We had body possession down to a science with how many times we’ve done it. All that was left to do was to go through steps again. I cleared my mind of all thoughts then I focused on imagining my soul leaving my body, all while maintaining my breathing. Soon enough, I could feel myself becoming lighter as my soul left my physical body. Once I was no longer a slave to the laws of physics, I flew straight to the gym where Akshay and Kabir were. They made the big mistake of tagging their location on social media, which made Jack and I’s job a whole lot easier! 

Thanks to my spirit form, I made it to their location within minutes. I phased through the walls and looked around for the bros. The gym was pretty empty that night for some reason. After some searching, I found Akshay in the locker room area checking himself out in the mirror. He was by himself in there. I crept up behind him, ready to strike while he was distracted! 

“Nrghh… What the fuck?” Akshay exclaimed. He hunched over while holding his stomach. I hesitated jumping into him, then abandoned the idea altogether when I realized what was happening. Jack had beaten me to the punch, he had already begun possessing Akshay.

I decided to stay back a moment and watch as my boyfriend possessed the gym rat. Akshay was groaning loudly. He tried keeping his balance but ended up falling to the ground on all fours. Sweat beads were forming on his face as he began breathing heavily. He then swung his head back with his mouth wide open. I could see his eyes roll back to the back of his head until I only saw the veiny whites of his eyeballs. Akshay then let out a loud, eerie groan. His cheeks and chest puffed up as Jack's soul slithered down his throat. I could see Akshay's Adam's apple bob up and down too! This lasted for a few seconds, then Akshay swallowed the last of Jack's essence in one final gulp. Once it was done, Akshay's eyes went back to normal and he stood up with a cocky grin on his face. 

"Ahh yeahhh... That's the good stuff..." Akshay said while caressing his massive pecs and rock hard abs. Except I knew that wasn't Akshay anymore, that was my loving boyfriend checking out his new body in the mirror. 

I watched as my boyfriend admired his newly obtained muscles in front of the mirror. I couldn't help but smile as Jack flexed his cannons for arms and made his pecs pop. To be honest, I was slightly jealous of him. Akshay was jacked! I wanted to have that body for myself, but no matter, there was still another body up for grabs anyway. 

I turned around and began searching for Kabir. I looked throughout the gym and eventually found him near the dumbbells. Kabir was busy putting some weights back on the rack. He wasn't perfectly alone like Akshay was, but the sight of his plump butt sticking out as he was bent over was too tempting to ignore. I just had to take the risk and dive right in! 

I steadied my aim first and then charged in as fast as I could. Thanks to my spirit form, I was able to phase right through his gym shorts and go straight into his asshole. 

"Ow!! What the fuck!?" Kabir yelped out, presumably from me penetrating him by surprise. The impact of me entering him made Kabir fall onto the ground on his stomach. He grabbed onto his ass cheeks while squirming around on the ground. Unfortunately I wasn't able to possess him in one smooth motion, but it didn't matter. I was already halfway in, and there was nothing Kabir could do to stop a pro like me.

I started wiggling my way up his ass. The deeper I went inside him, the more I could feel through his body as the body takeover process started. 

"Aaargh fuckk!! Ahh!!" 

Kabir was moaning and thrashing around like a madman! I couldn't blame him though, I could feel the stimulation I was giving him by entering through his ass. I bet I was hitting all the right pleasure spots as I slithered up him! 

"Mmmm... yeahh that's the spot..." I purred using Kabir's voice. I was in full control now, and hearing his accent come out of my mouth was making me hard! I stood up and brushed off any dirt on me. I took a moment to admire my newly possessed body. Jack might have gotten the more muscular body, but Kabir was taller and with a well-toned physique too. He was hot— No, I was hot! 

“Hey bro, you good?” 

I felt a hand pat me on the shoulder. Shit! Someone must’ve spotted Kabir thrashing around on the floor! I slowly turned around, but thankfully my worries were for nothing. It was just Jack.

“Yeah man, I’m chilling, all good here,” I answered. Jack shook his head. 

“You sure, Kabir? Looked like you had a pretty ass cramp just now… You don’t need a massage to help ease the pain?”

Getting called “Kabir” threw me off for a moment. Although I quickly caught on when I saw “Akshay” wink at me.

“Actually, you’re right, I could use a massage right now! Think you can lend me a hand bro?” I replied with a smirk. Akshay returned my gesture with a grin. It was moments like this that made me love taking over other people’s bodies with my boyfriend. Nobody but us knew that these two gym rats just got possessed by two other men, and that secret just made it even more fun.

Akshay and I wasted no time in getting to the locker rooms. Luckily for us, there was still nobody back there. We took off our clothes and hopped into one of the shower stalls together. Akshay turned on the water, and then proceeded to pin me to the wall behind me. He planted a big fat kiss on my lips. It was aggressive, but I loved it! 

We made out in the stall with our tongues fighting for dominance while the running water helped cover up our loud kisses and moans. Naturally, our dicks got hard while we kissed. I could feel Akshay’s dick rub against me as we pressed and interlocked our wet bodies against one another. It was strange. Normally when we possess straight men, we could feel their dormant souls try to resist against us having fun with their bodies. I expected Kabir and Akshay to do the same, but they never did! It was almost as if their bodies were enthusiastic about us having our fun. Perhaps, they’ve already done what we were doing?

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. All that mattered was that Akshay had a hand around my neck, choking me while keeping me pressed against the shower wall. I opened my mouth and Akshay spit in my mouth. I swallowed it like a good boy, then I jumped onto Akshay. He held me up while we resumed kissing. Then, while our lips were locked together, he began to lower me down onto his cock. I could feel his dick tap against my hole, then it slid right in.

“OHH FUCKK!!!” I couldn’t hold back my moans. The pleasure of having Akshay’s whole length inside me… My hole expanding to accommodate his girth was too much to hold back!

“You like that? You want this big, brown cock inside you?”

“Fuck yeah! Fuck me!!” 

“Beg for it then.” He started teasing me by thrusting himself into me slowly. 

“Please bro! Please fuck me hard!! I want you… I need you… Arghh!!”

Akshay started picking up the pace of his thrusts. I thought I saw stars with every deep stroke he gave me. We were probably making a lot of noise between my moans and his grunts, but we didn’t care. We fucked like animals with our new jock bodies and we weren’t ashamed of it! 

It only took us another few minutes of fucking before we were both close. Akshay pulled out and let me down to the ground. We then started tugging our dicks together until we covered both ourselves and the shower stall with our cum. We were both panting as we shot load after load of our sweet spunk out. We then made out again one last time while we were still covered with each other’s cum before the shower washed it away. It was hot, and it was definitely the last body hopping adventure we needed before our powers expired for good. 

Once we finished having our fun, Jack and I were ready to leave. We never bothered cleaning up, we just depossessed the bodies and let them take care of it. Jack and I shared one last loving look as Akshay and Kabir before leaving. However, when we tried forcing our souls out of their bodies, we couldn’t! No matter how hard or how much we tried, we just couldn’t leave! We ended up having to clean up after ourselves for once. We did that quickly, then got dressed and left the gym as fast as we could. We had no idea what was going on! But then I caught a glimpse of the time. It was already 1:30AM! It was already the next day! It was supposed to be a quickie, but I guess Jack and I got a little carried away…

All this happened two years ago. We’ve been living as Akshay and Kabir ever since then. Even to this day, neither of us know what could’ve happened that we’d end up trapped in these bodies. If I had to take a guess, I’d wager that when the witch said that our powers would expire permanently, she meant it way more seriously than Jack and I expected. Without those powers, we couldn’t even return to our original bodies! I don’t know, but honestly, I don’t care anymore. If anything, we’ve been blessed to have Akshay and Kabir’s lives as our own. Sure, Akshay’s new family is super traditional and they’re already setting him up for a bride, but that doesn’t matter to us. We still meet up in secret when nobody’s around. No matter who we are, we are lovers and nothing will ever take that away from us. 

We’re not sure how exactly we’re gonna get past an arranged family, but as long as Akshay is by my side, we can overcome anything.

[precioustarkey]

journalism at its finest

summary: you have made a career for yourself by interviewing celebrities, but are feeling a little uncomfortable when one hits close to home.

warnings: none

i nervously climbed into my car. the engine only makes my nerves rattle more. growing up, i was infatuated with actors and musicians. i found myself watching movies for the actors instead of the plot. listening to songs for the singers instead of the message. i can't explain my relationship with the media. i guess being online a lot as a teenager is to blame.

regardless, i knew from an early age that i wanted to work in the industry. not as an entertainer, but in the background. i wanted to observe the lifestyle up close. going to college for journalism was the best decision i have made for myself because now i get to live out my fantasy. 

i get paid to interview these people. and though i find a lot of them uptight and spoiled, the nosy side of me loves picking them apart. because of my job, i try my best to stay neutral on these celebrities so that they don't feel uncomfortable. apart from the research i do in order to come up with my questions, of course.

today is different. there is a show called "outer banks" that came around during quarantine, so with my free time, i binge-watched the entire first season. as i mentioned, normally i watch tv shows and movies for the actors, but i hadn't seen anyone in this show. 

however, when i delved deeper into google, i found the name of one of the actors to be familiar. drew starkey. i quickly found out that he grew up in north carolina, as did i. confused, i pulled myself from my cocoon on my couch to find my old high school yearbooks. grabbing one at random, i see him grinning in his senior photo. how could i forget? 

ever since i discovered this, i avoided the show like the plague. even though i had been surrounded by celebrities for years now, i had never known one of them personally. it almost ruined the glamorous aura surrounding them. imagining him as a regular teenage boy in the classes we shared was humbling. he wasn't mean in high school, not at all. if anything, i remember finding it odd that he hung around the theater kids because he was a total jock.

because of quarantine, i knew that press would be difficult for the actors, and because of this, i never anticipated having to interview them. which helped ease my nerves. moving to los angeles meant that i would interview every celebrity on the new up-and-coming shows. part of me hoped the hype surrounding the show would die down before the lockdown did.

the entire ride to the studio, i told myself over and over again that there was no way he would remember me. he was a jock, and i barely spoke. it wasn't the fact that i was shy, high school just wasn't for me. i counted down the days to graduation. i was only there because i had to be. i put more focus on my studies than my social life. 

in the back of my mind, i can't help but fear that seeing him will bring back memories of being the closed-off kid i was back then. as long as no one mentions it, everything will be okay. i repeated that to myself a few times before parking my car in the lot. removing my seatbelt as slowly as possible to buy time.

my hands are shaking as i walk to my studio. i send passing smiles to my coworkers as i make my way to the bathroom. i confirm that my hair, face, and outfit look presentable, and read over my questions one last time. 

the cameraman walks up to me as i take my seat to wait for the cast to arrive. "i just got a call; austin and drew are going to be the only ones you're interviewing today. madelyn, rudy, and  madison will be interviewed tomorrow," he says, looking for any sort of confirmation. "that sounds perfect," i say, smiling, still looking at my cards. 

i hear footsteps coming from the hallway and quickly stand up. austin and drew emerged into the room with their crew. "hello! so nice to meet you, my name is y/n," i say with a grin as i hold out my hand to them. they do the same, introducing themselves as they take turns shaking my hand. 

all three seats are now filled, so we can begin the questions. the first fifteen minutes go perfectly; we're laughing, they're thoroughly interested in the questions, and they're giving great answers. turning my attention to drew, i ask, "has this sudden change in lifestyle been difficult for you at all? to go from putting your all into basketball, to then deciding on theater in college?" 

he looks taken aback by my question. that nervous feeling in my stomach is slowly creeping back. i made sure that his sports background was easy to find online, so i was confident he wouldn't be too surprised. "wait a second. y/n? y/n y/l/n?" i can feel my cheeks flush at his realization. 

"can i be honest? i was hoping you wouldn't notice," i said, covering my face with my note cards. we are now sharing smiles. "oh my god. i sat behind you in algebra, you're the only reason i passed that class," he says in between laughs. seeing him in person has brought all of those little memories flooding back. 

after a minute or so of catching up, their team urges us on. "we've got other interviews, guys," the man says impatiently. we carry on for an additional fifteen minutes or so before i have run out of questions to ask. we said our farewells, and i thanked them for coming.

just as they were leaving, drew turned around, brushing past the guys they had walked in with. "y/n can i get your number? i would love to catch up properly whenever we both have time," he says, pulling out his phone. "yes, of course!" i smile, quickly typing in the numbers before they are once again rushed away. 

it felt like no time before my phone started dinging.

part two is here!

[morganbritton132]

I adore the idea of the folks in Eddie’s comment section doing all kinds of detective work based on a few clues or things Eddie mentions off hand. Like Billy Hargrove or his ‘hypothetical’ situations and there’s just this massive conspiracy about what exactly Eddie and Steve for up to in their youth in Hawkins

There are YouTube channels that are dedicated to the mystery that is Eddie Munson. It’s a pretty popular theory that Eddie sold his soul to the devil and Eddie will respond to this one because he thinks it’s funny with, “Gee, who are you, Jason Carver?”

And then people will look up who Jason Carver is and find out that not only is it a dead kid, it’s (1) Chrissy Cunningham’s boyfriend and (2) a mob leader?

The one thing that people agree on about Steve is that he has been in a lot of fights and he has definitely hit someone with a car. Billy Hargrove was a name that was thrown around in relation to Steve so people go digging and they find out that he died in the same mall fire that Steve was in.

Some people think that Steve must have been some wild-child rebellious criminal of a teenager. Eddie will respond to this theory too because he thinks it’s funny. He’ll pull out their old yearbooks and will find any picture of Steve that’s in the book like, “You think this guy was a criminal? You think Mr. Best Hair/Student Council Treasurer was rebelling against the system? He’s never won a fight!”

Steve: Hey, I won against that Russian!

Eddie: Didn’t you immediately get your ass kicked after that?

Steve: By a different guy!

<- Last Post | Next Post ->

[starryeyedjanai]

Fake title ask!

I’m A Dirt Road

bestie, I did not mean to write 1.3k about this. But it happened anyway, so here you go:

I'm a dirt road

The government uses NINA to wipe everyone’s memories of the last few years and replace their memories of the Upside Down with mundane events where the party and the older teenagers don’t really know each other outside of school. And Steve and Robin are the ones who help bring them all together.

Because after a couple months, Steve starts having dreams. Weird dreams and nightmares that feel real. He’s waking up with feelings in his chest that don't make sense, for people that he doesn't remember. He’s grasping at straws, trying to piece together what the hell is happening to him and he runs into Robin, who’s only a few weeks out from her starting her freshman year of college. And he feels like he knows her.

She brushes him aside because she only knows him as King Steve who lost his crown after being hit in the head too many times, so of course she doesn't believe him when he says they know each other.

But after she brushes him aside and sees his shoulders slump, she feels it deep in her chest that something is off about this situation. She watches him walk away and instinctively calls out, “Hey, dingus?” and when he turns around all perked up, she knows something weird is going on. She knows him. Somehow, she knows him and forgot.

So they hunker down and try to piece together what they can and turns out, she’s been having dreams too, but she just thought they were pre-college nightmares. But they’re the same ones Steve has, of this dark, cold place that has a, “Red sky,” they both say at the same time. It’s so weird.

“There are others,” Steve says, sure of it. There have to be. "I feel like we’re missing a group of people. And-" he cuts himself off.

“What is it?” Robin asks, the tight feeling in her chest returning, because she feels like she knows what he’s going to say.

“I feel like I should be mourning someone,” Steve says, running a hand down his face. “We lost someone. And I don't remember who.”

Robin feels it too. She feels like there’s a weight in her chest that shouldn't be there. She’s felt it since she woke up in March with a killer headache and missed school for a couple days because of it. She didn't know what to call the feeling, but she knows now that it’s grief.

Anyway, they find Dustin wandering around skull rock and ask him what he’s doing there and he tells them about the dreams he’s been having and surprise, surprise. Same dreams! And Dustin found a partially destroyed polaroid in his bedroom after tearing the place apart trying to make sense of what he was feeling and it was of him, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and some kid Dustin doesn't know dressed up for Halloween and he didn't remember taking that picture.

So he knew something was up, so he went looking in the place where it feels like something important happened. So with Dustin’s help they rally together Mike, Nancy, Lucas, and Erica, who insists she has to be a part of this after eavesdropping on the conversation.

It still feels like they’re missing a bunch of people and Dustin figures it has something to do with the kid whose name none of them can remember. They scour through old yearbooks and pictures, but can’t find anything, not even a name.

It’s Steve who runs into Hopper, who’s a mess, drinking and angry all the time again. They bump into each other and they both stop short and Steve takes a leap of faith and pulls Hopper into a tight hug and Hopper crumbles, falls apart. He tells Hopper about the group - the party, he says and doesn't know why - and their dreams, says he has a feeling Hopper has been having dreams too.

And Hopper has, because he’s lost two daughters now. And he can feel it, in his heart, that she’s out there somewhere, but it doesn't make sense. His only daughter is gone. He didn't have another, right?

They work with Hopper to track down the kid in the photo and Hopper finds a police record of a domestic disturbance that he doesn't remember happening involving a 'Joyce Byers' and he knows it’s them, the Byers family, they’re involved in this too. So he tracks them down in California somehow and convinces them to come to Hawkins, a town Joyce insists they’ve never been to.

But she also feels it, and her kids feel it, that something isn’t right, so when a sheriff from some random town in Indiana calls her and tells her he has a police record of her family in Hawkins, she believes him somehow.

So they make it to Hawkins and the reunion is tearful, even though Joyce is sure she’s never met these people. El, no, Jane - why did she think of her as El? - and Hopper hug each other and everyone is teary eyed about it for some reason.

It’s the kids who unlock some memory in El, Jane, and she’s convinced she has some kind of power, some kind of something that can fix this. She can take them to the place where they need to be, she’s sure of it.

So she leads the way, takes them to the place where he died, Steve realizes. It’s where he died, whoever it is that’s carved a gaping hole in his chest, in all of their chests.

There’s still debris from the earthquake that happened a few months ago here. But she leads them to a crack in the ground. It’s red and pulsing and alive.

And none of them know what the fuck is going on, and this isn't normal, but it validates every one of their fears that they’re not all just making shit up, some group psychosis or something.

Steve is relieved to see it, weirdly enough. Because something in him is telling him that the person who they thought died here didn't.

So maybe it takes months of Jane, El, practicing honing her powers, maybe Robin and Nancy reluctantly go to college and the kids go back to school, Will and El enrolling in Hawkins High.

Maybe Hopper finds a house that was abandoned after the quake for Joyce, Jonathan, Will, and El to live in. It’s a little worse for wear, but the banks aren’t running to collect a mortgage on it right now at least. And Will finds a drawing on the wall in his bedroom after they move in. It’s one he drew. How is it one he drew?

There are so many unanswered questions and Steve is going out of his mind waiting, waiting, waiting for Jane or El or whoever she is to be ready for whatever it is she’s preparing for.

He keeps visiting the place where it happened. He doesn't know why because he knows whoever the guy who died, or didn't die, was- he doesn't think they were very close. But he remembers feeling terrified and still being able to laugh with him, he remembers the ache in his heart later. He doesn't remember his face, but he remembers blood. He remembers telling him not to be a hero and remembers being angry at him for not listening.

He remembers, but not enough.

And when the time finally comes, months later, when El channels her powers and the crack in the ground splits open more, when Steve insists he’ll be okay if he drops into it, he finally sees him again.

He’s crossed over into this place, the place from their dreams, cold and red, but it’s like taking a breath of air so cold he’s choking on it. He walks down the path, down the road, looking.

He finds him.

Perched on top of a van, picking notes on a guitar, is him.

Steve’s shoes sound loud on the gravel beneath his feet and Eddie’s head whips around toward him when he hears him coming.

He smiles.

“I was wondering when you’d find me.”

[lynnarang]

Changing Coursework

No one talks about what happens to the dropout witchlings at Academia Hemlock, but everyone sort of knows. Dolls running about and preparing your meals have to come from somewhere, and the one that gave you your soup today looked just like the girl who sat next to you last year.

If you looked through the roster of previous years, you'd probably find that most of the faces stricken out from the yearbook look suspiciously close to those dolls you keep bumping into in the hallways, but doing that would just be asking for trouble, wouldn't it?

But then it happens. You didn't study quite as much as you should have for a test, too distracted binging another yuri manga your friend recommended you.

You don't even get to see your test results before you're being escorted by a group of dolls to one of the senior witches.

"Oh dear, this just won't do. A witchling that can't meet her own potential has no place in these halls I'm afraid."

The witch wrinkled her already incredibly wrinkled nose at you and jotted something down with her quill.

"But it was only one test!"

She just shakes her head.

"Tut tut, that's how it always starts."

"You stupid hag, I'm not going to let you turn me into one of those freaks!"

You yell while reaching for casting apparatus, only to be immediately restrained by a doll with a grip strength that far surpassed what its appearance suggested.

"Such language! And who said anything about turning you into anything? I was just going to suggest you transfer to our sister academy to learn about doll-making."

"Wait.. Transfer? You're not going to… turn me into a doll?"

"What? No, of course not, don't be silly."

"B-But the dolls here look like the old students!"

"Well yes, amateur doll-makers often make their early creations in their own image, until they get the basics down at least."

"I.. Why me though?"

The witch gestured to a book she'd confiscated from you earlier this term.

"We find that young witchlings distract themselves from their studies with their true passions. Those with an interest in the female form such as you often prefer courses on doll-making rather than potion-brewing and hex-crafting like we do here. Of course, its your choice."

"S-So I don't have to learn how to make name restoring potions or what fairy circles belong to which continents?"

"If that is what you desire for your education."

"Then sign me up! When do I leave?"

"Tonight. And please inform your classmates to prevent… misunderstandings."

"Yeah, ahuh, sure. I'll go get packed."

You grinned, thinking of how hilarious it would be for your classmates to see your first doll and think it was you. It'd be such a funny prank, there's no way you couldn't pull it!

[ktkat99]

I just found my yearbook from elementary school and unlocked a MEMORY.

For context, I still live in the town I grew up in and it's so small that I have to drive forty minutes away to grocery shop. If I go past the town I shop in at all and have to give the name of the town I live in, nobody's heard of it.

The school I attended was so old that on the last day of school every year, we'd gather at the front of the building and be sent off by our principal PULLING THE ROPE OF OUR ANCIENT SCHOOL BELL.

I say these things to emphasize that our school was small, unheard of, underfunded, and old. And we all knew it.

So we were all gathered in the gym one day for another of those "sell cookies for the school" fundraiser assemblies, and after our principal got done showing us all the cool prizes our top selling students would get, she then announced that if we made enough as a school, then we would get a visit from

THE.

HANNAH.

MONTANA.

As this was right at the height of her fame, and by far the biggest name in pop culture to a bunch of elementary school students, we lost our minds.

We worked our butts off, raised money, sold cookies.

And WON.

We reached our goal!

We won a visit from Hannah Montana!

And then the day came and we gathered in the gym, and the music started, and out came

Our principal.

Dressed in a cowboy hat and jean jacket.

She halfheartedly danced to the opening of a Hannah Montana song while the teachers and some students clapped politely, and then held up a piece of paper and cut the music.

What was on the paper?

A letter from Hannah Montana apologizing for not being able to make it?

Some secret prize?

Maybe she was so impressed with how many cookies we sold that she would be performing a whole concert for us just outside and this was all just our principal having a laugh??

No.

It was our morning announcements.

We were then sent back to class with no further explanation.

To this day, I still don't know if she thought we wouldn't be able to tell the difference, or if she just didn't think we'd ever reach our goal, but we never tried near as hard for any fundraiser after that.

[stranger-rants]

No you don’t understand. I need that harringrove hanson yearbook au now 😤

First of all, anyone reading this should listen to Yearbook by Hanson if they haven't done so. (Yes, the Hanson of Mmmbop fame.) It's top notch, but so underrated.

Second of all, I read a book like this in high school. It's called The Body of Christopher Creed by Carol Plum-Ucci. I don't remember a lot of it, but the basic premise is that a teenage boy becomes obsessed with figuring out where his classmate Christopher disappeared to, even though he was never close to him. Along the way he uncovers secrets about him and his family.

...but given Steve's tendency to get involved in things, imagine Steve and Billy having their little antagonistic relationship. Until. Billy is suddenly gone. The first week, no one really thinks of it. Rumors begin to fly once they hit the three week mark. Steve pretends not to care, but the way he just disappeared into thin air is nagging at him. There's no trace of Billy in town, and trust him - he's looked! He's driven by the guy's house.

The weird thing is that his car is still there. Unmoving. The light in his bedroom is never on. And, okay. Steve knows how this looks. He's not trying to stalk Billy, but he can't help but feel like something is very wrong. Everyone acts like it's normal. Billy was a wild guy. He's probably on a bender in Canada. He became a roadie for a popular band. He knocked a girl up and ended up trapped in a shotgun wedding. The gossip gets crazier and crazier the longer time passes.

Steve's investigations bring him everywhere. The woods where he finds Billy's lighter and beer cans. The motel where the old woman working the front desk confirms Billy had been there a few times, sometimes with older women and Steve feels sick to his stomach as he pieces together why Nancy's mom changes the subject so swiftly when he brings up the missing boy.

The worst part is no one reports a missing person. His sister Max is quiet. Susan avoids confrontation. All Neil has to do is stand there, intimidating anyone who comes around asking. When they're not home, Steve ditches school and enlists help to sneak into Billy's bedroom to look for clues. Billy's bedroom looks eerily bare, stripped of any personal items he might have had. He makes it out of Billy's house in time, but not before Neil sees Steve pull away from the curb in his car.

Steve finds evidence of Billy's things donated to local shops and combined with Neil's demeanor, he's now convinced that Billy's dad has done something terrible to him. He tries to go to the police, but they won't listen to him. Hopper has to warn him that if he keeps going after Neil that Neil will press charges against him, but he hints to Steve that something really doesn't feel right about the situation.

Eventually, Max asks Steve to meet her after school. She says Billy was taken in the middle of the night. Abducted. Thrown into a van and sent somewhere for "troubled teens." And Neil let it happen. He made it happen, and if she spoke out she could easily find herself "disappearing" too. She knows he's in danger. The people who took him did so violently while Neil called him every horrible name he could think of in the moment. Neil said he had a right to do it. That Billy was wrong and needed to be "fixed."

Steve and Max team up to find out where Billy's been sent. Max has her hands tied in terms of what she can do, so Steve builds up a movement to put pressure on local police and Neil Hargrove to find out where Billy went. After a long fight lasting almost a year, they find out where Billy was taken and Steve drives out to get him with Max. Asks Max what Neil will think and she says at this point she doesn't care. Hopper stops them from going by themselves, bringing a van full of their friends.

They find the facility. It's not good. Billy's head is shaved. He's thin. Real thin. His skin is worn and his eyes are dull. He won't talk. Hopper sees the state of the facility, and he has it shut down pending further investigation. Billy is taken to the hospital under protective custody. Neil isn't allowed to see him, even though he demands to. When the news breaks, Billy is inundated with cards and supportive messages. Steve's there every day to visit him and make sure he gets better. Then they work on building a relationship.

Note: This is also inspired by the fact that Neil did threaten to send Billy away, and the fact that teens like him are vulnerable to the troubled teen industry.

[jimothy-hopkins]

Meddling Kids VIII

WARNING! This work/series contains mentions of slut shaming, EDs, gore, implied torture, implied SA, SH, violence, and many other things that can trigger some viewers. I will also mention that this work does NOT intend to glorify, romanticize, normalize, or promote ANY of these behaviors or ideas. That is not who I am and that is not what I stand for. Please do not take that message away when you read this.

This is a Manhunt/Bully crossover, so expect non-family friendly shenanigans.

Well, they weren’t going to get anything out of Max, which sucked. He was probably the only one with any dirt on cases. Jimmy had zero plans. Lucky for him, he had two best friends with a shared brain cell.

“Well, there’s gotta be something on their permanent records about this,” Pete suggested.

“You’re right. They have to document that for legal purposes,” Gary nodded, sitting up.

“I have a key to Crabblesnitch’s files,” Pete said.

“Sweet. Let’s go,” Jimmy stood.

The trio shuffled out of the library. The air started to warm up as February began to die. Spring was near. The football season for Bullworth and the surrounding schools would start up soon. Jimmy was never much of a football fan. Sure, he’d sit down and watch it with whichever stepdad was around. But for the most part, Jimmy was more interested in the music industry. The only sport he enjoyed was boxing. Even then, it depended on which rich bitch he was in the ring with.

Once upstairs, they peered into the office. Neither Ms. Danvers nor Dr. Crabblesnitch were in there.

Perfect.

Petey barged in first and grabbed the keys out of his pocket. Jimmy stood by the door to watch for prefects or any other authority.

Petey unlocked each cabinet one by one. Gary began to search through them. Most of the filed paperwork was just accident reports and work orders on various equipment. Nothing too special. Pete knelt and unlocked the last drawer.

School records. Just what they needed.

Gary dove in, pulling up any files relating to Johnny and Norton. Pete took them with care. Jimmy snuffled his way over, nosily rummaging around in the file cabinets and drawers. No wonder Christy loved gossip so much. Being nosy was fun.

“Dude, let’s look through these old yearbooks,” Gary grinned.

Jimmy smiled as he reached into a drawer, retrieving a book that was probably older than his stepdad.

“Bullworth Academy, Class of 1985,” Jimmy leaned back on the wall, and Gary joined at his side.

He flipped the book open, the inside bare of any signatures. Gary leaned over and flipped the pages. Within a few minutes, they were already giggling up a storm. They thoroughly enjoyed their Mean Girls-esque fun. Good god, the outfits. Not to mention the goofy ass hairstyles they wore. Jimmy wondered how their parents let them go out dressed like casual clowns.

“I’d rather kill myself than wear that,” Gary sneered, pointing to one girl who looked like she’d gotten electrocuted.

“This makes me glad I’m bald,” he replied, flipping a page.

Gary’s eyes scanned the names, his eyes falling on one. His face changed completely. Petey turned over to them and raised a brow. Gary looked like a kicked puppy almost. Hero to zero.

“What’s wrong?” Jimmy turned his head.

Gary pointed to one portrait, “that’s my older brother.”

“Since when did you have an older brother?” Jimmy knitted his brows in confusion.

“Since the day I was born,” Gary replied.

“You walked right into that one Jimmy,” Pete spun in Crabblesnitch’s chair.

Jimmy rolled his eyes to the sky and looked back at the yearbook. Gary’s finger still pointed to the face. Under it read the name ‘Leroy Elwood Smith’ that sounded like a grandpa's name. He looked a lot like Gary, but only with dimples and a douchebag mullet with a matching mustache.

He couldn’t help but notice the stale silence in the room.

“So, uh, what happened?...” Jimmy asked with hesitance.

Petey looked at Gary, who seemed to be in a trance.

“Leo committed suicide in 2001, after September 11,” Pete answered, looking down.

Ouch. That was heavy.

Gary slowly pulled the book into his lap. He flipped through pages and only stopped at the ones with his older brother in the pictures. Jimmy looked on alongside him. Leo seemed like a great person. A lot of the photos he was in included him with friends. One boy specifically. Daniel Lamb. That name sounded familiar. Jimmy remembered hearing it from somewhere.

As soon as Gary started to develop tears, Pete grabbed the yearbook and closed it.

“We should go,” he stood.

“Yeah, good idea,” Gary shook his head.

Jimmy stood, making sure all the drawers and cabinets were closed before they left. The last thing they needed was a suspension for being nosy, meddling kids.

Gary snatched the yearbook from Pete on their way out, giving a dirty side-eye.

For the rest of the day Jimmy wracked his brain for any ideas. He was stumped. He was creative, yes. But not in the Scooby-Doo mystery-solving way. Maybe if he watched some Law & Order Special Victims Unit, Jimmy could improve that. Gary watched that show all the time with Parker Oglivie.

But at the stroke of midnight, Jimmy’s rock brain finally sparked.

Happy Volts.

That asylum had all they needed. Records and maniacs.

Jimmy put on his clothes and slipped out of the dorms. He dodged Edward’s flashlight. Better safe than sorry. The snow had now thankfully begun to melt, leaving less evidence of his escape. Winter was the worst time of year to sneak out. Unless you had those dumb tennis racket snow shoes to cover your tracks still, Seth Kolbe or Diana Prescott would mow your as down until you became a snow angel. Regardless of heels and house slippers being their respective choices choice of footwear.

Jimmy made it to the gym, ducking down inside to evade Max Mactavish. He’d been more aggressive since Edward’s nasty confrontation with him. And Jimmy didn’t feel like getting bodyslammed into the cold pavement tonight.

He walked around with squinted eyes to see in the dark. He could see from what little light the swimming pool and exit signs gave, but other than that it was pitch black. It made him uneasy. Alone in a dark, empty gymnasium.

His hair stood on end when he heard the door open.

Jimmy darted down the stairs and ducked into the boy’s locker room. He hid amongst a pile of discarded towels in the far corner facing the lockers. He was busted. Done. If he was lucky it would be a prefect and not whatever maniacs had killed Alice Cuellar. He knew he knew too much. Oh god, the DA probably hired those sick freaks to kill him.

“Come on, let’s go,” A voice whispered from outside.

They sounded young. But it could be those skully guys Edward was rolling with, all of them looked pretty young.

“Move, Sonny! Geez!” one hissed.

“Sorry!”

The footsteps clambered into the locker room.

“You got the bolt cutters?”

“Of course I do, dumbass.”

“Good.”

Jimmy peeked from the towels.

His eyes widened. These were kids his age.

One was tall with long blonde hair tied back into a high ponytail. Jimmy could tell that it was a guy by the confirmation of their arms and legs. Good god, that boy was big.

The one in the middle was criminally small. He had to have been shorter than Jimmy. It boosted his ego, knowing he wasn’t that short. He had short hair in a classic jock cut.

The third guy was tall and skinny with an obnoxious neon green liberty spike mohawk. Jimmy could vaguely see his unique choice of punk fashion from his towel hidey-hole. The guy also held a pair of bolt cutters.

“Quick! We might get caught,” the blonde urged.

“Sonny quit being such a pussy,” the short one bit.

“Maverick, hold the lock,” the punk-looking guy ordered.

The shorter one, presumably named Maverick, stepped up and held the lock. The punk took the bolt cutters and quickly broke the lock. The blonde ripped the chain out as they pried the door open.

Jimmy watched in disbelief as these guys took out the mascot. They didn't even go to Bullworth. He could tell by their red uniform attire.

He was not going to let this slide.

“Hey! What are you doing!?” Jimmy hollered as he stood from his pile of towels.

“Shit- go, go, go!” The punk pushed, the other two running out with the mascot.

Jimmy dove at him and delivered a blow to his temple. He staggered back and swung the bolt cutters to hit Jimmy in the side of the head. He fell to the ground with a yell as the punk ran.

Jimmy quickly came to his senses and got up. He chased after the thieves until they were in the parking lot.

“Payback motherfucker!” Maverick yelled from the car window with his middle finger up as they sped off, leaving Jimmy in the dust.

He had to get that mascot back.

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic. // word on the street

extra, extra, read all about it!

TAGLIST: @softguarnere , @liebgotts-lovergirl , @brassknucklespeirs , @monalisastwin

WARNINGS: discussions of disownment & brief discussion of suicide, descriptions of combat fatigue

SUMMARY: Daisy has never seen what she does as anything more than her duty based on her oath. She wonders why that’s begun to change now.

She’s in the newspaper back home.

Of course, it isn’t just pictures of her that are spread across a page of Stars and Stripes. A handful of pictures of the Aid Station and the ambulances on the dirt roads all paint the dire picture. EINDHOVEN BURNS. The ANC’s Guardian Angels Save 150 Lives in an Eindhoven Bombing! is the title, in big blocky letters. She’s about a paragraph in, accredited for “leading the charge” and there’s a recollection of the events themselves, a quick note about how they’ve been unable to grab anyone for a quote. There’s no mention of the subsequent reprimand from an angry officer, and after reading it thrice she’s certain there’s no mention of insubordination.

The clipping from home is a much more personal affair. South Weymouth’s Own GI Angel. They’d used her old yearbook photo from five years ago, which is just minorly embarrassing. Daisy Elizabeth Clarke is an alumni of the English High School… a small blurb about her achievements (which were getting more praise now than when she actually achieved them), which military camp she attended, flowery words singing praises she doesn’t feel entirely deserving of.

And to top it all off, the latter clipping is from her father — who’d wrapped the rosary she’d left at home in the paper, who’s letter is filled with pleas for a response, complaints that it isn’t fair of her to refuse to speak to him. Those pleas only lead to more irritation, and she winds up balling the letter up and throwing it away. They’d finally been pulled off the line and moved to Mourmelon-le-Grande, in France.

It’s been over a month since she last saw Ronnie. Soon, it’ll be two months.

She gets a new jacket, without a hole in the sleeve. The wound itself has scarred over in a dark brown uneven swatch on her arm. No raised skin or divots, just the discoloration.

“203rd General, in Garches,” Ginny tells her as she’s pulling on the new jacket. “That’s the last place with a record of him, as far as I know. I don’t know if he’s still there but it’s worth a shot.”

She sends out her letter within hours of that —all  two pages of it — and can’t help but pray for the letter to reach him in time. She’d spent a whole night on it, pouring out the things she didn’t get to say — the explanations owed, the apologies needed.

“My mom wrote to me,” Rita starts out, handing Daisy a crumpled piece of paper. Rita’s hand ghosts over her arm to keep her from colliding into anything as they exit the movie that’s playing in the hall. Daisy takes it, looking over it. Her brows furrow and her lips tug into a frown. “Said if I came home now we could still fix everything and it’ll go back to normal or something.” Daisy looks up at Rita, handing the letter back.

“But she doesn’t want your dad knowing she wrote to you?” Daisy scoffs, rolling her eyes. Rita laughs bitterly, rolling her eyes as she takes it, balls it, and stuffs it in her pocket. “Did you write her back?” Rita smirks a bit.

“Oh definitely.”

“And what’d you say?” The girl runs her fingers through her curls for a moment. Daisy watches as they bounce right back into their proper places.

“Told her that unless she wants me back pregnant and unmarried that she and Robert can go kick a rock for all I care,” Rita declares with her hands on her hips. “Which I’m certain will just go great. Robby McCarney’s precious daughter coming home knocked up by some no-name GI. As if I wasn’t already embarrassing enough, right?” There’s sarcasm laced in every single word, overflowing. Even if there are notes of sincerity, Daisy isn’t going to pry her about it out in the open.

“And have your sisters written at all?” Rita shakes her head, letting out another laugh.

“And dare to upset Robert? Cuando Colón baje el dedo, Daisy.” When pigs fly, essentially, Daisy nods grimly.

“My dad wrote to me. I ended up throwing out the whole letter so you might be a little nicer than me.”

“Or you’re just less spiteful.”

“Well that’s one way of looking at it,” She laughs, partially because if anyone were privy to this conversation, they’d be concerned, and partly because they both know if they don’t laugh, they’ll just get angry. And it’s easier to laugh than fester in their shared anger.

Rita didn’t talk much about her family — and when she did it was always in this way. Calling her four sisters idiots or mindless, or doormats. Get a couple of drinks in her and she’ll use some very colorful words to describe her parents, too. They’d essentially told her that if she left and joined the army, she could never step back into their home. So Rita “packed a bag and left with a middle-finger to the door” as she put it. Their laughter eventually lapses, before Rita’s face takes on a properly grim expression.

“Did you hear about what happened to that Sergeant and staff officer?” she starts out. Daisy shakes her head, and raises a brow. “Apparently both of them took two .45 calibers and just,” she pauses, makes a gun with her fingers and gestures to her lips. “Bang. Right through the head. Guess… everything’s catchin’ up to everybody. I saw Lieutenant Compton earlier just kind of… blank-starin’. Don’t even think he noticed me wave.” Daisy cringes, taking a quick scan of the GIs walking around the camp. Some of them wear the exhaustion blatant on their faces, others don’t.

“Did you get any names?”

“Not yet. But I think—”

“Excuse me! Lieutenant Clarke?”

Both women snap to look at the person calling. A GI in a neat olive-green dress uniform, garrison cap tilted just so on his head. His face is youthful and lively as he approaches with a big, boxy camera in his hands. Daisy tries not to outwardly grimace, but Rita doesn’t hide her irritation, muttering a quiet “Get a load of this fuckin’ twit.” But rather than verbally agree, Daisy just smiles as politely as she can as the reporter approaches.

“Yes, that’s… me. Did you need something?” As though he’s just won the lottery, his grin grows impossibly wider, his eyes all starry and full of excitability.

“Yes! Well… I was hoping to get a few comments from you on the situation in Eindhoven back in September. Seems like no one was able to get a comment from you when it happened but with word finally reaching the States and all…” It’s almost like I was doing my job. In the middle of a war. That’s what she wants to say. But she doesn’t say that. Daisy does however, give Rita an apologetic look. She waves her hand dismissively, before continuing to walk, leaving Daisy alone with an all-too-eager reporter.

“They’re still talking about that? It’s been nearly three months. And I don’t think I… got your name.”

“Lieutenant Walter Cunningham for Stars and Stripes, ma’am,” he states proudly. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it’s been trying to catch one of you girls for comment. They’re talking about everything you ladies have been doing. Company One here with the paratroops, Company Two with 30th Infantry. Can’t forget the ladies up with 10th Armored while we’re at it…” Cunningham continues to prattle on in a quick way that’s honestly a little dizzying. But what she does gather is that the companies are so busy it’s hard to grab any of them for an interview. He even throws something about ‘carpe diem’ in there, on the topic of finding nurses to talk to, but she doesn’t know how applicable the phrase would be to this.

Regardless, she tries to keep up as he throws questions at her. What was the training like? Different, intense, rigorous. She tries to paint the picture of seventy women working in cohesion, but she isn’t too sure her words properly depict it. What were the biggest challenges you faced? Daisy tries to put it eloquently — the differences in experience, combined with the abrupt shifts for some women who were used to hospitals and wards. She throws in a few good comments about Ginny and Rita and Catherine, her confidence in their leadership and their determination.

And then he asks it.

“The accounts of your actions after the Eindhoven bombing are quite limited, so I have to ask — do you think I could get a firsthand account of what happened? It’s my understanding that Jane Gray, Catherine Ward, and yourself were leading so-to-speak, but you gave the order.”

Daisy bites the inside of her cheek, tensing up.

Ginny had told her it would all be okay, and she believed her friend — but she doesn’t like the way Cunningham is looking at her. Like it’s something that makes her special, as an individual. He looks almost hungry — like it’s his big break. He stares at her expectantly and for a moment, she stands there, grasping for a way to put all of her thoughts into cohesive words.

“...It was a team effort,” Daisy starts with, tentatively. Her palms are sweaty and she decides not to wipe them to maintain some mirage of confidence. “When you’re sworn into cadets you take an oath. We get these pamphlets with it written as reminders once we get our uniforms. Me, the women I’m with, we all knew we had to uphold that oath, no matter what. I really was just… the one who voiced it. I really just said what everyone was thinking.”

She leaves out Gray’s hesitance. She leaves out her own doubts. Her own remorse and how an angry Captain had taken it all the way to the Colonel after learning her CO was dead set on protecting her. But she leaves in every moment that she and Gray shared the weight of a wounded man. She names every woman that joined her, makes a point to mention the men of the RAMC as well. Daisy only hopes that her answers are satisfactory.

He wraps it up with a photo of her face, and a promise to get the next issue of Stars and Stripes to her. What she wants to say is ‘take all the time you need,’ but she’ll save the man from her snark in favor of scurrying off and away to find adequate distraction.

Eugene is easy to find — but that may be in part because Laura’s bright voice carries far distances. She’s chattering away while he and one of the other medics, Spina, play cards. Based on the lack of money between them — she assumes they aren’t playing for keeps. Laura looks up, notices her, and bounces towards her.

“Daisy! I— Is everything alright?” she asks, immediately going to grab at her hands. Daisy laughs a bit at that, nodding.

“Just didn’t realize how draining one interview could be ‘till I caught it. Other than that I’m fine.” Laura smiles, pulling Daisy towards the two men as they continue to talk.

“Sounds like hell. Mm. Boys, wrap this up then let me n’ Daisy in on it yeah?” And then, to her, “They’re playin’ Pinochle. I think I’m startin’ to get it after watchin’ ‘em for so long.”

They play pinochle, all four of them, and Laura pokes and prods about Cunningham, Daisy expresses her bewilderment and Eugene offers his familiar support in quiet smiles and the occasional elbow nudge. At some point Spina takes over the conversation. They all go grab a bite to eat and Laura excitedly tells her about what she’s calling ‘Jane and Floyd developments.’

“Y’know me n’ Jane were in cadets together and I’ve never seen her keep a fella around this long. Or ever, really. I said good for her, maybe a quick roll around’ll do her some good. Been hung up on her ex for quite some time. I’m glad she’s letting loose a little. She's even stopped wearin' the ring!” Laura doesn’t elaborate more on the ex, but Daisy catches on to it pretty quick. She thinks back to Jane’s comments in Aldbourne. Her quiet mutter of ‘I wish’ when Daisy asked if she lost anyone in the service. She tries to suppress her cringe.

For a moment, she gets to stave off her own thoughts, try to reset herself even if the next operation looms imminently in a shadow three months away. They’ll work it out, they’ll end the war, and then she can deal with the mess that seems to be getting progressively more complicated at home. At home there will be James, and Ronnie, and maybe even Carolyn, if she wants.

When a runner approaches her two days later, and hands her an envelope, she’s excited. Something from James, or maybe her mother, maybe Ronnie got her letter and this is his response. As long as it isn’t her father, or another letter telling her to write to her father — then she thinks she’ll be okay.

But it’s not her father, or her mother, or Ronnie or James. Her own handwriting smacks her in the face. And then faded red words, stamped onto the envelope.

Return to sender.

[cominginhotoffthepresses]

Nancy: teaching your crush how to shoot is something that can be so personal (part 3)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Nancy's handguns are tucked between old yearbooks and her freshman homecoming dress, each wrapped in one of the scarves she'd pulled from her mother's closet as a child, tied around her neck and wobbled on heels. Back when her mom still said words like 'Groovy' and her dad's smiles were fond.

At eight the next morning, Nancy finishes breakfast and goes back to her room to stand in front of her closet with her hands on her hips, stance firm and wide. The sawed off Winchester is right out, though she'll bring it along under the back seat of her car, stashed there with the window scraper and first aid kit. It isn't easy to reach in an emergency, a fact which smooths over the presence of it when Nancy starts to worry about the efficacy of her post-graduation plans.

She stands in front of her closet, eyes fixed on her handguns like wool sweaters, sweltering on every day but those few when they are the only things that will keep her warm enough to walk out her door, and Nancy wonders which of them she should choose to wrap Robin up in.

Using her father's library card, long pilfered from the junk drawer, Nancy checked out a manual for for Jonathan's Smith & Weston the same week she realized she didn't want to give it back to him. The care and handling of the Russian pistol was muddled through with freshly educated guesses and a prayer, every shot, that it would not break in a way Nancy couldn't bring it back from.

At eight thirty, Nancy pulls the Russian pistol from its place and checks the chamber. She remembers the wreck of Steve's face when the Starcourt Mall was destroyed, and wonders again if the butt of this gun, held to his cheek, would match the dark crescent bruise below his eye. She wonders if Robin could tell her, if she would know for sure.

At nine, Nancy grabs the Smith & Weston revolver and packs it into a backpack with a box of ammunition, her wallet, and a cardigan to fill up the empty space.

All of them, Mike's friends, the Byers, have been holed up waiting for the next disaster to strike or for El to call them together with any plan that has half a chance of working, so Nancy drives slowly through town. She savors the banality of an easy drive, even though half the roads in Hawkins are closed.

There’s no need to honk when she pulls up outside Robin’s. The front door is opening the moment Nancy pulls to a stop, and the flare of nerves that she’d been relying on that minute of waiting for Robin to gather up the last of herself to calm rises up bright and insistent inside her.

Robin’s smile is brilliant. She waves as she walks up, as if Nancy could mistake her for anyone else.

Ten and two, Nancy takes a deep breath and ducks her head to greet Robin as she climbs into the passenger seat.

“Am I late?”

“What? No.” The notion seems ridiculous, but it’s almost thrilling to think that if Robin was waiting at her door, it was out of an eagerness to see her, though, Nancy supposes, they’ve all been cooped up. She’d be eager to see anyone.

Robin talks, and Nancy lets her. The radio stations, even the short range broadcasts, have been coming in with more static than usual since the fissure opened up, so Nancy keeps the music low, a soft blanket of sound for Robin’s voice to modulate over. It reminds her of the one of the albums Jonathan recommended months ago over a phone call when she asked about the background noise. Experimental drone, he’d called it, and given her the name of the song after too much time spent trying to find the cassette in his room. She likes it better like this.

“Eddie would hate this, what are we listening to?” Cuts through to Nancy’s active listening as she’s navigating a new way to Hopper’s cabin due to a couple closures.

“Sorry?” Fuck. Nancy can see Robin sink back into her seat, “No, I’m listening.”

“It’s fine.”

“No,” Nancy flicks the volume down, “you were just,” she shrugs, “I wasn’t listening all the way, but I am now. Tell me about Eddie?”

“It’s nothing,” Robin says, “I was– have you gone to see him over at Steve’s?” Nancy shakes her head, and it’s enough to launch Robin into the details of the set-up at the Harrington house. Eddie has taken over the living room, “close to Steve’s dad’s record player even though there’s hardly anything he actually likes in that collection. Steve nearly passed out trying to pull it into the guest room before Wayne stopped him.”

The mood slides back into something pleasant for the last leg of the drive, easy to find common ground in exclaiming over Steve having more gumption than sense, how good it is that he and Eddie have an adult in the house.

“Not that Steve isn’t an adult,” Nancy lifts a finger with a grin.

“Oh no, and Eddie’s like twenty, right?” Robin taps her chin in a mockery of consideration.

“That’s all the years you need, really.”

“I’ll tell Wayne that,” Robin says, then pitches her voice low and gruff, “and he’ll tell me, ‘Those idiots’d pop every stitch between them in a week.’”

"If we can't find Mr. Munson, we can sick Dustin on them."

Robin's laugh is gratifying. "That'd do it for sure."

It hadn’t occurred to Nancy in her brooding that she could have visited Steve’s house. She wonders if Robin even called ahead or if she’d just biked up and knocked on his door. Nancy would have done that too once, but before she can think herself into a spiral, the road through the woods turns to dirt and Hopper’s cabin comes into sight through the trees.

The first time she drove out this way, Nancy hadn’t parked at the cabin, hadn’t even known it was there. It certainly wasn’t on the driving map from the Kroger or the photocopied city planning documents under her bed.

When Chief Hopper walked into the clearing she’d set up then, Nancy had turned her gun on him, and he on her. It was the first time anyone had pointed a gun at her, a rifle she’d come to know the feel of in her own hands not much later, but it was lowered quickly.

He’d pointed west and told her to knock next time, “So I don’t shoot you. And put a vest on; you can’t fucking wear brown in the woods.” Even when Hopper was gone, Nancy’d kept in the habit of knocking on his cabin door. Something about authority figures.

It’s almost surprising now that it opens up for her at all. “Just checking in before we head out.” Nancy’s voice is a high, customer service pitch, but it falls when she sees the slope of Hopper leaning against his door frame.

“Sure, kid.”

He doesn’t, Nancy is grateful, need much small talk to wave her on, just glad to be given the head’s up that there will be gunshots in hearing range. In the space between Hopper and the open door, Eleven’s leans into the background holding a pair of headphones and a tape deck.

“We’ll check back when we’re done.” Nancy promises.

“We couldn’t have gone somewhere else?” Robin is leaning out of Nancy’s car window, hand prints on the paint.

“It’s safe here,” Nancy explains and heads around the back to her trunk, “Get out, we’re walking the rest of the way.”

She grabs her backpack and puts it on properly, both arms, thumbs hooked into the loops of the straps to keep the weight high. Nancy catches Robin’s smirk and rolls her eyes.

“You really are a nerd, you know that?”

Nancy’s response is old instinct. “Says the band geek.”

Robin snorts and follows Nancy into the trees, “I mean, yeah, geek recognize nerd.” She continues on, and Nancy wonders if Robin means to be a comfort, making sure Nancy knows she’s still back there without needing to look. Probably not.

Robin too, fills the spaces she’s put in, and Nancy’s gaps are cavernous.

The clearing, a ten minute walk later, is well kept. Nancy never leaves it for long. Tamped down grass and targets hung at three heights greet them, demodog, demogorgon, an average human man.

Robin whistles behind her, “Holy shit, you’re serious about this.” Like it’s news.

Nancy shrugs off her backpack and rests it on a log to be unpacked. She feels a sting of embarrassment, doesn’t look back to see Robin’s expression.

How much of her college savings have been frittered away on boxes of bullets, promises to herself that if it’s only for the weapons she already has, she isn’t inviting anything to come for her? If the numbers were laid out for her, would it be obvious which future she’s really planning for?

“It’s incredible.” Robin says, and Nancy can breathe.

“You know,” Robin continues, “I could have imagined you doing all that bad-ass save the world stuff when we were fourteen, but I never would have believed I would be there too.”

“You fought Russians less than a year ago.” Nancy tips her head to the side, makes sure she has her timeline right. She does.

Robin shrugs. “I mostly just yelled at them.” Nancy regrets bringing it up immediately, the way Robin shrinks into herself as if avoiding a blow. “Shouting and fire, that’s me.”

“Shouting and fire’s worked well for us so far. The Moltovs were a great idea.” Nancy glances down to Robin’s fidgeting hands, hears the clink of phantom bottles.

“Didn’t get him, though,” Robin steps closer and points one curled knuckle at the revolver in Nancy’s hand, “this did.”

When Nancy stands, she’s near enough to Robin’s face that she could count the summer freckles across her nose if she gave herself time to. Robin doesn’t back away.

“A bigger one.” Nancy says. “This guy, you actually have to aim.”

The way Robin’s eyes crinkle at that, it’s like Nancy’s told her a secret.

“How very gendered of you, Nancy Wheeler.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, steps back. The tension, she realizes there was tension, bleeds away into the new open space between them.

Much to Robin’s apparent chagrin, Nancy spends nearly an hour going over the makeup of the gun, how it comes apart and back together, what it looks like and feels like when loaded and not.

“It’s most dangerous,” Nancy tells her, “if the only time you use it is when you’re scared. You can’t be scared of it, but you have to respect it.”

“Easy for you to say.” Robin holds the gun in her hand like she might a questionably feral cat. Nancy is struck by an impulse to smooth the crease between Robin’s eyebrows with the pad of her thumb. Instead, she covers Robin’s hand with her own, other hand on her shoulder. Robin stays tense.

“Don’t be so delicate with your grip, here.” She curls her fingers around Robin’s, presses warm skin into metal. “You don’t want to slip.”

“How long until it doesn’t freak me out anymore?” Robin mirrors Nancy’s stance, stepping back until they are flush together.

Nancy raises their arms so the barrel is just north of level with the middle target. “Put your finger on the trigger when you’ve aimed at what you want to hit, not a moment before.”

“Nancy?”

“I don’t know. Until it doesn’t.”

Robin puts her finger on the trigger. They’re off a height, but even behind her, Nancy can feel Robin’s head twitch back when she squeezes, knows she’s closed her eyes tight.

“Fuck that’s loud.” Robin’s voice is raised, and Nancy steps back from her to let her breathe. With the new space, Robin whips her head around, gun hand still pointed out and away just as Nancy’d told her to keep it. “You didn’t say it would be loud!”

“It’s a gunshot, Robin. You’ve been right next to one.”

“In the freaky Upside Down where everything is all muffled and weird or when I’ve been coming down from a truly epic high, not–” Robin does a sort of full body tremor that Nancy takes to mean, ‘not like what just happened.’

After a few more exclamations, Robin whips back to look in the direction of the targets. “Did I hit it?”

Nancy shakes her head.

“Fuck.”

“Don’t close your eyes this time.”

“Still scared.” Robin returns to a ready position without Nancy’s guidance. “For the record.”

“Noted.” The sun is high over the trees now, casting dappled shadows along the edges of the clearing. For all Robin says she’s scared, her jaw is set.

For a moment, Nancy feels an inexplicable sadness well up in her at the sight, all of Robin’s energy pulled in and focused. The necessity of it. Robin Buckley isn’t the kind of person who ought to know what recoil feels like in their wrist, but then Nancy probably wasn’t either.

Robin’s steadying breath is audible in the cool spring air, and Nancy breathes with her.

Robin pulls the trigger and strikes true. A bullet is buried into the soft wood of the demogorgon target. The crack of it clears Nancy’s mind, crystal and sharp, and oh, maybe she would have been here all along.

“Still scared?” She asks.

Robin’s laugh is almost as loud as the shot. She has red in her cheeks when she meets Nancy’s eyes. The thought comes to Nancy like a shot; she could kiss her. They are grinning at each other. Their teeth would clash. Robin looks at the gun, back to Nancy. “Terrified.”

on ao3

[spookman404]

The Last First Day NaNoWriMo C2 11/5/22

When I pulled into the parking lot for my first day of senior year, I didn’t get out, not immediately. I didn’t want to jump the gun like everyone else and get stuck cramming myself through the front doors. Instead, I parked my car at the back of the lot and let the engine run, warming my hands with the heat leaking from my truck’s less than impressive AC vents. I tried to sink as low as I could in my seat so I could people-watch in peace, only poking my eyes up high enough to see just over the top of my steering wheel.

I had a clear view of the front of the school. It was nothing special, but my peers would disagree. Droves of students stood out in the snow. They talked, joked, and shivered together, slowly filtering through the double doors and into the old brick building we called home, some more reluctantly than others. Eventually, when the crowd got thin and the clock ticked dangerously close to eight am, I finally decided to bite the bullet and start my last first day at Autrain High.

The crowd’s didn’t go away, they just filtered into the halls. As I weaved my way through the sea of claustrophobic bodies I couldn’t help but wonder why everyone was so worried about making a good first impression, especially when it came to the other seniors. It wasn’t like it mattered, it was our last year, it was a little late to be making a first impression. With our town being as small as it was, everyone knew everyone already, a new haircut, new clothes, or a new personality, wasn’t going to fool anyone. 

Rodney was still a raging alcoholic just like his dad was, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t had a drop since sophomore year, Madison was still the overweight kid the other girls would rag on to make themselves feel better, they didn’t care that she’d dropped fifty pounds over the summer by obsessively skipping meals, and despite how hard he tried to get everyone to forget, Brandon was still a creep for going after other people in his youth group.

I could go on but I won’t. I don’t want to make it sound like my hometown was nothing but a bunch of depressing cases. It wasn’t. There were a lot of good people, it’s just that most of them don’t stay that way. It’s only natural. People eat eachother alive whenever there’s nothing else to do. Everyone wants a turn at being the big fish in the small pond.

The point is, people change, for better or for worse, and over the years I’ve learned the best way to avoid getting caught up in the drama that comes with it, is to not get involved. I kept my head down, and kept my friends close. Unfortunately that meant I had become a bit of a ghost myself. No one ever really looked my way or went out of their way to talk to me. Nobody really saw me when I sat at the back of the class or clung to the walls. I didn’t even eat lunch in the cafeteria. By all intents and purposes, I was invisible. 

It had its pros and cons. On one hand people didn’t hate me, they had no reason to. I’ve managed to dodge every bullet that came my way over the years and make it all the way through highschool without so much as a rumor to my name. I never did any extracurriculars, never tried to branch out further than my comfort zone would allow, and the closest I’ve had to hanging out with my classmates were during group projects.

On the other hand though, I’m the guy people forget. The guy most people will jump at when they see my picture in the yearbook twenty five years from now. It really isn’t so bad until you realize you’re standing alone, holding a tray of shitty food from the lunchline, and have no one to gag over it with. That’s when it gets you, when you realize you're in a room crowded with people you’ve known since they were eight, and none of them know your name.

Some people though, a few, did remember me. I just wish it could’ve been anyone other than Jeremy Ringer.

He greeted me with a shoulder check and that wicked smile he flashes at everyone else. He said something too, something along the lines of a half hearted ‘oops’ or ‘sorry’. I can’t really remember. I’m used to ignoring him. I did catch one thing though as my milk splattered to the ground. 

“Watch where you’re going.” He jeered, cutting the lunch line with his band of brothers.

“Wasn’t going anywhere.” I mumbled to myself.

By the time I picked up my milk it had already emptied out onto the tile, but it was nothing to cry over. Despite what the words said on the side of the carton, I doubted whatever it claimed was inside actually came from a cow. Regardless, I was left with a handful of soggy cardboard and not a trashcan in sight. The janitor must’ve been new because I couldn’t find one anywhere. Since I wasn’t planning on sitting in the lunchroom anyway though, I took the liberty of roaming around the halls until I found one. It took a while, but eventually I spotted a lone overflowing trash can sitting by the school's side doors at the other end of the corridor.

I crumpled the carton in my hand, instantly regretting my actions as milk dribbled from my palm, and walked my way over to it, glancing down the halls as I passed them by.

Empty. Empty. Band kid’s being weird. A couple breeding in the hallway. Empty.

Then I stopped.

Oh shit.

I ducked back behind the wall. Down the last hallway, sat on the floor in a bundle of faded flannel and shredded jeans, was Mason Graves. 

I felt a little more milk dribble down my arm and swore under my breath. I’d squeezed the carton again in my panic, but I wasn’t worried about that. I was much more concerned with whether or not Mason had seen me.

Mason was the type of kid no one wanted to mess with. People have tried and failed over the years, but most of them regretted it. Once a particularly cocky kid, Patrick I think his name was, tried to trip him down a flight of stairs. People pointed and laughed as Mason quietly picked himself off the ground. He didn’t push back, he didn’t fight, he waited. That same kid missed school for a couple days, and came back with three missing teeth and a black eye. He never looked Mason's way again.

Mason was an enigma, someone that defied every law that governed this town and the people in it. He didn’t care if people talked about him, he preferred it. The more they talked the less they bothered him. He was the kid with the dead dad that people knew to stay clear of, but building up that kind of reputation over the years came with a few consequences. 

Over the years he became the school’s scapegoat. Someone's car got keyed during the hockey game? Mason. Someone tagged the gym in the middle of the night? Mason. One of the shitty old cabins in the woods burned down over the weekend? Probably Mason. 

The problem was, nobody could prove anything. You’d think someone like him would’ve had a rap sheet as long as his arm and a room reserved at the nearest juvenile detention center, but he didn’t. He was clean; Squeaky fucking clean. That’s why people were scared of him. Everyone knew he did all those things. Who else would it be? But no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t prove it.

I don’t really blame him. If anything I almost sympathized. After all that he’s been through, growing up the majority of his life without a dad, if he really was the one lashing out, I could see why. We were a lot alike now that I mention it. We both kept to ourselves, albeit for very different reasons. We were still fundamentally different though. If I was the school's ghost, Mason was its monster.

I wiped my arm on my pants. I would’ve used my coat but I wore my favorite today. Once I was dry and I realized I had been hiding for well over a minute or two, I gathered up enough courage to peek around the corner.

When I did I nearly backed out again. He was standing up, and for a second I even thought he spotted me, but he didn’t. He was looking for someone. I watched him from the end of the hall as he looked up and down the corridor, making myself small any time his eyes came my way. Then, a knock echoed out through the empty hall and I realized something. He wasn’t looking for someone, he was looking out for someone.

Turns out, that someone just so happened to be my library buddy Ginger Prescott.

As the door creaked open, Mason gave his surroundings one last glance, and nodded when he decided the coast was clear. When she stepped out, he greeted Ginger with a smile and open arms. I couldn’t decide what was stranger, the fact that those two were friends, or that I was seeing them together at all.

Ginger pulled away and got right down to business. They exchanged a few hushed words, but try as I might, I only caught a few of the more passionate parts. Words like ‘when’, ‘where’, and ‘who’ were tossed around, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of anything, not until their conversation came to a close and I heard Mason ask, “So, did you get it?”

Ginger didn’t respond. Not verbally at least. With a grin she slung her bag off one of her shoulders and unzipped it, burying her arm inside in search of something. I ducked a little as Mason one final cursory look, but relaxed when his attention settled back on Ginger.

“Here it is.”

She handed him the copy of Moby Dick, the one she picked out from the library, and Mason stuffed it in his drawstring. He patted her on the shoulder and said something that sounded like a goodbye, so I took the hint. As I heard the two of them come walking down the hall, I did the same, trying not to look their way as I made my way over to the trash can. I could hear the clack of Ginger’s heels drawing further and further behind me as I tossed the milk carton, but the second I reached to open the side door, they stopped. 

I froze in place, my eyes locking on the snow falling just outside. All I had to do was walk out without a second thought. Sure, I looked a little suspicious living in weather like this, but If Ginger knows anything, and she knows everything, she’d know that I do that all the time. I didn’t move though, I couldn’t, because all I could focus on was her reflection in the glass of the door, staring daggers at me from down the hall.

I don’t know if it was the fear or the adrenaline that snapped me out of it but something did, and I pushed my way through the doors, taking my first few steps out into the snow. I tried to get out of the line of sight from the doors as soon as possible, so I held my tray with both hands and made my way down the short flight of icy stairs. When I miraculously made it to the landing without falling to my death, I felt my heart warm a little as I saw the picnic table. My picnic table.

It was a depressing looking thing, held together by loose nails and gnarled wood. It sat under a small metal roof that managed only to shield half of it from the snow. It was old, it was ratty, and it was defaced by decades of students with nothing better to do, but it was still there. I was sure it wasn’t going to be. Over the week leading up to school starting I managed to convince myself they’d thrown it out over the summer. I figured the years of being left out in the snow would’ve finally caught up with it, but it hadn’t. Thank god, at least one good thing came out of my first day. I don’t know why I let myself get so worked up about it. I walked through the same routine every year. It was almost like a tradition. On the first day of classes, I’d come out here and expect my table to be gone, but it never left. It was my second favorite part of the first day of classes. I spotted my favorite, stepping out of the snow dusted woods in nothing more than a hoodie and jeans.

“Kate!” I exclaimed, feeling my leftover nerves melt away.

“Hey!” She replied, sounding just about as excited as I was.

I set my tray down on the table, I didn’t care about it going cold, it probably already was anyway. I trudged out into the snow and met her half way through the clearing. I pulled her into a bear hug and immediately regretted it. She sucked the heat out of me and I swore, “Jesus, you’re freezing.”

She pulled away and apologized, “Sorry. The walk took a little longer than usual.”

As I walked her over to the table I asked, “Do you wanna head inside? Maybe warm up a little over lunch before you have to walk back.”

“Nope, I’m good. I’m used to the cold.”

She sat down at the table across from my tray in the same spot she always sat in, right at the end of the bench at the driest corner of the table.

“Are you sure?” I asked, sitting across from her, “It’s really no big deal. I’m sure nobody would care if I snuck you in.”

“No, I’m good, really. Thank you though.”

We go through that same little routine every time we meet for lunch. Every day I meet her in the middle, I freeze up when I hug her, I try to bring her inside, and she turns me down. Every time. She never told me why she didn’t want to set foot inside, but I didn’t really blame her, most days I didn’t want to either. It could’ve been a number of things, but I think most of what’s keeping her away is the possibility of running into anyone who remembered her, or worse crossing paths with Ginger. Regardless, I knew she was never going to take me up on my offer, but still, I asked her every day. I’d feel rude if I didn’t.

When we both settled into our seats, Kate didn’t linger any longer on pleasantries. She got right to the point.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

I did my best, but there wasn’t really much to tell. She arrived halfway through the first day, not much of anything happens until at least the end of the first week. She knew that, but she didn’t care. I think it was just an excuse to get me to talk, so I did. I told her about how I missed my first two alarms and had to skip breakfast. She wasn’t surprised. I mentioned that my Truck’s AC was dying again. She expected as much. I told her about how everyone was dressed to the nines and I cracked a joke that I settled for a decent seven. She laughed. I didn’t deserve it. Good times. Kate’s the kind of friend you can bump into after not seeing her for years and she’ll pick up right where you left off. The kind of friend you never want to lose.

We talked back and forth like that for a while, catching each other up on our summers. Her’s was much more entertaining than mine. When she isn’t homeschooling, her family takes her roadtripping. They all pile into an RV and drive around the country from may to august. She’s been from coast to coast more times than I’ve been out of state. Now, don’t get me wrong, it sounds amazing, and I am happy for her, but I kinda wish she skipped a year. She was my only real friend, which meant for about as long as I can remember, summer was just one long buffer between saying goodbye and seeing her again. Nothing really happened in between. It’s a brutal double edged sword, but I guess it does make our lunches just a little more special.

As the lunch period came to a close and I started to freeze to my seat, Kate asked the question I knew she’d been working up to for the past half hour.

“So, are you gonna go?”

“Go where?” I asked, taking the last bite of my PB&J.

“The senior bonfire. It’s this Friday.”

I knew she only brought it up because she liked living vicariously through me. She was always more into that sort of stuff than I was, school spirit and all that. For the short time she did spend in highschool she loved it, diving into anything that so much as remotely caught her interest. She somehow managed to balance debate club, writing for the school paper, and playing for the soccer team, all with a full course load. She was the most talented person I knew, and the only person who was just as interested in hearing me ramble on about the town’s ghost stories as I was, which is why when I shot down going to bonfire night, I knew exactly what she was going to say next.

“You know it’s being held in Hunt Woods right? Like the Hunt Woods.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware.” I replied, “The Hunt Woods.”

“So why aren’t you going?”

“Well, for one, I’ve been there before. Multiple times.”

“So?”

“So it’s not like I’d be missing anything.”

“You absolutely will be missing something. It’s your senior year. You don’t get another one. It’s missing stuff like this that you're gonna regret later on in life.”

“What? A bunch of drunken idiots standing around a fire for a couple hours? Maybe some douchebag with a guitar if I’m lucky? I don’t think I’ll be too hung up over it.”

“Come on.” She urged, “It’s one of your favorite spots. You used to go there all the time to try to catch the Hermit.”

It was a cheap shot, but I figured she’d take it. She knew I was a sucker for those woods. The Hermit of Hunt Woods was one of the few stories that I couldn’t debunk with the papers. There were just too many holes, inconsistencies in the details like the fact that while the murders happened only minutes apart, the bodies were found miles away from each other. Or the little detail that the murder weapon was never found, even thought the murderer himself confessed to where he hid it in his suicide note. Oh yeah, and the smoking gun. You can still hear the distant sound of a rope swaying in the wind somewhere off in the woods late at night, I know that for sure. I’ve heard it myself.

Still, I wasn’t sold.

“The Hermit isn’t just going to show up with that many kids around. I would’ve seen him already if he was that brave.”

“Who knows, maybe that's exactly what he needs?” She suggested, “He was a mass murderer after all.”

“Yeah barely.” I scoffed, “It was four people.”

“Chicken.” She teased.

“You make it sound like I actually believe in ghosts.” I argued.

“Yeah, it’s because you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Yes. You do.”

In an attempt to stop myself from arguing in circles, I reminded her, “I’ve never seen anything. Nothing big enough to convince me otherwise at least. Neither of us have. Until that changes I will continue to firmly label myself as a skeptic.”

She smirked, “But you still believe enough to try, don’t you?”

I sucked in another cold breath to argue, but I let it back out. She got me.

“You were always the one who believed in ghosts, Kate, not me.” I concluded.

I didn’t intend for what I said to come off as mean or cold, but I think that’s what she interpreted it as. Her eyes drooped and started to run her fingers across the back of her hand. She always did that when something bothered her.

I checked my phone and saw that we barely had a minute left.

“So you’re really not going?” She asked one last time.

“I guess not.” I mumbled.

The bell rang, cutting our conversation short, but neither of us got up. We weren’t finished yet. As kids began to flood through the halls inside, I admitted, “It’d be different if you were there.”

I could tell she didn’t like the idea, but before she could shoot it down, I followed up, “I don’t particularly like the idea of standing around and watching everyone else have fun. If you showed up though, it doesn’t sound that bad. I can’t remember the last time we’ve sat around a campfire.”

Slowly I saw her start to warm up to the idea. She still didn’t give me a direct answer, but I didn’t need one.

She shrugged, “If that’s what it takes, who knows, maybe I’ll stop by.”

I caught the smallest hint of a smirk on her face, and just like that, she had me.

“Then I’ll be there.”

[jzixuans]

Blink I beg of you to please give us more of that beautiful Roceit, Roman is so pretty my little heart can't take it I need to know what happens to these lovestruck fools.

ooh boyzee let’s see i don’t think i planned much beyond that comic but since you asked so nicely

(this is about 2.2k in bullet fic, with warnings for burns, scars, and corrupt rich people in power)

maybe let’s start with how they met because i haven’t detailed out the post-comic events yet

deceit– that’s the name he earned on the streets thanks to his charmingly deceptive personality– is making his rounds again in the bustling marketplace, looking for any unsuspecting nobles that won’t miss a ring or two

he makes eye contact with those he passes, smiling handsomely, and they can’t help but falter when they lock onto those stunning golden eyes

he’s talented like that, knowing just how to capture his victims’ attention and not have it at all

later, they’ll recount eyes like gold and a dazzling smile, and nothing else that could identify the snake in the shadows

he tips his hat and bids them a good day with a polite bow then disappears back into the crowd, his pocket giving off the slightest jingle from the coin pouches he nabbed

he weaves his way through with practiced ease and he spies a handful of guards surrounding someone wearing the rich, bright, telltale garb of the inner circles of the royal court

jackpot

as he nears his mark, he sees that they’re wearing the deep purple of the king’s advisors; one of the two youngest to ever hold such a position, but from the back of their head, he can’t tell which one

but he notices that they’re jittery, nervous even, as they complete their transaction at the table piled high with old books

deceit pretends to occupy himself at the neighbouring stall, a gentle old woman offering tea

the guards watch him, but he catches their eyes, nods, and hands the woman silver pieces from his stolen coin purse and accepts his tea

the guards resume their posts and pay him no mind

when he turns to walk away from the stall, he slides his hand into the pocket of the advisor

this is where he makes his mistake

the advisor, more vigilant than nervous it appears, catches his wrist in a vice grip, glaring down at him. then he throws deceit back into the stall, sending him crashing into the pot of boiling water

he’s only narrowly able to avoid the water reaching his eye

his body feels like fire is eating at it from all ends

as he writhes in pain he sees regret, pity, and concern flash across the advisor’s face

he’s hauled to his feet by two of the guards, the others have their hands at their hips, ready to draw their swords

around them, the busy marketplace has stilled, and they’ve gained an audience

the guard on his right rifles through his pockets and pulls out the rest of his stolen goods

one man pushes his way to the front of the crowd and points at him angrily

“he stole my wedding ring!” he exclaims

“he took my mother’s bracelet!” another cries

and soon several members of the crowd are shouting their accusations at him

the advisor raises a hand to silence them

another guard announces, “for thievery of countless riches, and attempted robbery of councilman virgil wang, you will face trial and the consequent punishment before king thomas”

the next thing he knows, he’s being muscled into a carriage, then paraded through the castle halls

“see to it that he’s treated by a doctor,” councilman virgil tells the one holding him, sending him a look that’s almost… guilty

normally, he’d be alert, mapping out the castle grounds waiting for the opportune moment to make his escape, but right now the only thing on his mind is holding back the tears in front of the guards

the doctor sweeps in with a mug larger than life, filled to the brim with what smells like coffee. deceit flinches

“alright hon, let’s get you patched up,” the doctor sighs. they tilts their tinted glasses down to take in the sorry state of his face

they hold a cool cloth to his burns and it’s like a balm. he can’t help but sigh in relief

“what’s your name, sweetheart?” 

“don’t call me that”

“well if you’d give me your name, i wouldn’t have to”

“what makes you think you’ve earned the right to know my name?” deceit snaps

“is attending to your wounds not enough?” the doctor tsks as they peel the cloth away and reach for a jar of salve. their hands are rough and calloused, but still they treat deceit with a gentle touch that he hasn’t known in quite some time

deceit doesn’t answer them

“i mean i know who you are, you’ve probably robbed about of a third of the castle by now. not surprised that virgil caught you, he was probably born sleeping with one eye open. but still, a name for the legendary thief of crane would be nice,” the doctor prattles on. deceit let’s them chatter on about everything and nothing, sitting still as a rock while the doctor applies the rest of the bandages

“now i know you’re all chained up, but just in case the king let’s your hands go free, don’t go ripping off those bandages or your next visit here you’ll have to pay me by telling me your name,” the doctor warns with a wink. “good luck on your trial sweetheart, and may the fates smile kindly upon your future.”

deceit’s led out of the room by his attending guards then pushed through the doors to the main hall where he lands on his knees at the foot of the throne

the king is flanked by his advisors– deceit recognizes councilman virgil’s stony gaze– and his adoptive son, the crown prince

deceit doesn’t dare lift his head for anything more than the fleeting glance he got at them

“dante evan feng, also known as deceit, the snake in the shadows, thief of crane, you have been arrested stealing from the royal court and nobility on numerous occasions, and for attempted thievery from a member of the high council,” an advisor to the left of the king recites. he’s wearing the same purple robes as virgil– the other youngest advisor– with large round glasses and long black hair held back in a braid. his voice is cold and monotonous as he reads off the rest of deceit’s charges

“how do you plead?” he asks

deceit lifts his head, a defiant “not guilty!” ready on his tongue, but he sees virgil shake his head, and then sees the crown prince, gorgeous and resplendent, brows pinched in concern, shake his head

“you would do well to answer truthfully. in this court, honesty is rewarded, corruption will be condemned.” king thomas says

so deceit lifts his chin a little higher, and says, “guilty, your majesty, but with good reason”

“elaborate”

“i’ve seen the members of your court laugh at the beggars in your streets as they crawl on their knees to pick up every last penny. they turn their backs on those who need them. they don’t deserve their riches,” dante snarls. the prince winces under his glare

sadness paints itself into the king’s expression, but he keeps his voice steady. “and how have you spent your stolen wealth?”

“they went back to those who should have had it in the first place” 

the advisor in the glasses narrows his eyes. “were you one of those such people?”

“i used the gold to buy goods from local businesses to support my lifestyle and theirs. i don’t see how that is such a crime”

the advisor arches a single eyebrow, then turns to his colleague. “councilman wang, you were a target of his today, what are your thoughts on the matter?”

“he didn’t get away with stealing from me, we’ve apprehended him, and he’s already been wounded. i have faith that whatever punishment his majesty decides for him will be just.” virgil says, so low dante almost doesn’t hear it

the king sits up. he’s made his decision

“dante, in place of punishment, i offer you a chance to work for all that you stole. you will work here, at the castle. you will be given food, clothes, and a room to live in. having you here will give me the opportunity to consult your advice on how to go about resolving the corruption in my court. does this sound fair? should you decline my offer, your sentence will be to serve time in prison.” the king says

deceit wants to say no, that he’d rather die than live a life of servitude, but so far, everyone at the castle has shown him mercy, and the chance to rise up to a seat on the king’s council is too tempting to refuse. having the king’s ear will make it far easier to bring about change in the kingdom. 

“i accept your gracious offer, your majesty,” he says begrudgingly, though the words taste like ash in his mouth

so he takes on the new position as one of the castle’s groundskeepers, tending to gardens, making sure that everything else is in its proper place

for the first year, he’s confined to working outside only at night, where the harsh light of the sun can’t deal any further damage to his scars (virgil, though still distrustful of him, seeks him out and apologizes a couple weeks after the trial, he only meant to push him away, not send him flying into a pot of boiling water. he’s stronger than his robes make out, it seems)

he also pays the doctor– remy dormeil, he quickly learns– regular visits for more salve and other treatment for his scars. he finds their presence one of the more tolerable ones amongst the court staff

king thomas upholds his promise and allows him to attend some of the meetings with the high council. he plans on venturing out into the smaller villages himself to survey the state of things

then the king throws a birthday party for the prince at the castle. dante’s told that he may join the festivities once his duties are attended to. so he dons the suit that has been left in his closet and makes his way to the ballroom

in the centre, virgil is being led by his fellow advisor in a vivacious dance that leaves them out of breath and full of laughter as they spin around and around each other in a twin orbit

as dante weaves through the crowd in a manner not unlike they way he used to move on the streets, he’s greeted with side eyes and distasteful remarks— many of tonight’s guests were his marks once upon a time, and no one could forget those stunning golden eyes— but he steels himself as he always has, and makes a beeline for the refreshment table, where he may hide his face behind a drink or two

on his way, he slips the bracelet of one particularly snobby woman from her wrist and into his pocket. as he accepts a goblet from one of the waitstaff, he hears a voice from behind him say, “are you going to give that back?”

when he spins around, he comes face to face with the birthday boy himself, prince roman of crane, smirking in amusement

“i mean, she probably deserved it, but she is my second cousin once removed, and i would hate to hear her complain all night at the next family dinner,” he continues. “besides, i’m sure i could find you something more your style,” he adds with a wink

dante huffs and takes a sip of his drink. “i can’t say i know what you’re talking about your highness, but i must add that i have quite expensive taste, so if you plan on following through on that promise, i hope you’re prepared to empty your coffers,” he shoots back with a grin

roman tips his head back and laughs, rich and bellowing

“give it here before you get in trouble, and i’ll just tell her that she’s dropped it. then i’ll make you a deal: if you can behave for the rest of the night, i’ll reward you with some exquisite jewelry of you own.”

dante sighs and drops the bracelet in roman’s outstretched palm

“i’ll take that deal, but only on the condition that you deliver it to me yourself. i tend the garden beneath your balcony twice a week,” he purrs in his ear, then he walks away, leaving a dumbstruck prince behind him, never mind his own blush creeping up his neck (which he promptly blames on his scars when remy sidles up to him)

twice a week in roman’s garden soon turns to three times, then four, then every night he’s slipping out to the garden to throw discarded weeds through roman’s window to relish in his dismay, to chat with him as he makes his rounds, laugh as they try to push each other into the fountain, and distract him with beautiful blooms and twinkling stars as he occupies himself in trying to steal the crown right off his head

he hasn’t succeeded yet, because every time he’s just about to reach for it, roman turns his head, ready with a witty remark or poetic compliment comparing him to the brilliance of the moon’s glow that stops him dead in his tracks

one day, though. one day

and when he does, it isn’t just be roman’s crown that he steals, but his heart as well

[blessednereid]

Pity the Living

Daniel Sharman x Reader Series

A/N: The Much Requested, and By Requested, I mean @rogershoe wanted me to write this, MY DANIEL SHARMAN FANFICTION!!!!!! The character that Y/N plays is based on my OC for FTWD and is not an actual character in FTWD. Basic Premise of the setting for this chapter is that they're in high-school/ secondary school. But for the majority of the story(minus flashbacks) it's set in 2016/17 when s3 of FTWD was filmed.

Story Summary: When (Y/N) (L/N) reunites with a high-school friend on the set of the job she's been working on for the past 2-3 years, not only is she excited to work with the guy who inspired her to go into acting, but to hear about what he's done since she's seen him. But the more they talk, the more she realizes, this reunion is not going the way she had planned.

CW: Cursing? brief mention of alcohol, anxiety, mentions of food, fake dagger, fake blood, bets,

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Career Day

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Most of the students around you were chorusing to the tune of your school anthem, but not you. You had heard the melody and sung it almost a million times. Whether you were exaggerating or not, not even you knew. Instead, you were whispering and laughing with one of your best friends, Daniel Sharman.

You met Daniel when you first came to the school. You didn't know many people. You didn't even know yourself in this place. It was a completely foreign experience, but he stuck by your side and showed you around.

Since then, you had made friends, joined the swim team, learned your way around the school without ending up in the boys' restrooms instead of the girls' ones. Despite not needing Daniel to show you around anymore, he still provided plenty of comedic support and pick-me-ups and was a great mate all around.

Your teacher had just finished introducing all the parents who were presenting at career day. The assignment being after the presentations were finished, you were supposed to think about what you wanted to be in the future. You had no idea what you wanted to be. But of course… Daniel did.

"An actor."

"An actor?" he nodded. "Like Macbeth?"

"No, Macbeth is a character. An actor is a person who plays the character."

"Why an actor?"

"Dunno. Just seems right."

You frowned. "Huh, that's nice. Knowing what you want to be."

"You could always try acting. It's worth a shot."

"Hah, if I ever tried acting, it would probably be when I'm old, senile, and look like Betty White."

"Oh, come on. You're a great actress!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Sharman?" you gasped.

"Just that you tell fibs and stories as if they were the truth. That's all acting is."

"I DO NOT!"

"How did you convince your mum that your dog jumped onto the table and ate the cake without making any noise last weekend, then?" You opened your mouth to speak before closing it.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased.

"Shut up, Sharman."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

L/N Residence

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You and Daniel were both swimming in the pool in your backyard when Daniel asked you the question.

"Did you think about it?"

Still floating, you asked, "About what?"

"Acting."

You laughed incredulously. "You were serious?"

"Of course I was." He swam closer to you and pulled your leg down, making you flop around and splash water.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"Was just trying to get your attention," he remarked innocently.

You coughed. "You had it."

"Picture this," he waved you off. "Us, on the red carpet-"

"Who's red carpet?"

"Does it matter? We'll be each other's dates anyways."

"Why is that?" you asked.

"Because we're best friends."

"What if one of us has a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

He shrugged. "Ok, whatever. We're on the red carpet separately. It's both of ours red carpet-"

"So, does that mean we're in a movie together?"

"Yes, Y/N," he muttered exasperatedly.

"But that's impossible?"

"Why do you say that?"

You leaned closer to his ear. "BECAUSE I'M NOT BECOMING AN ACTOR."

He jumped away from you, proceeding to splash you with water.

"Mark my words. I know talent when I see it."

You sighed. "Could this just be you not wanting to be lonely in the acting world?"

He jutted his lip and spoke in a whiny voice. "Maybe…"

You laughed before splashing a giant wave of water at him. While he still had water in his eyes, you dove under and pulled him down.

He flailed around before his head popped up, and he calmed down.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"PAYBACK, SHARMAN!"

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Announcement

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

The intercom gave a heavy buzz, and static-y noises ran amok over the building before a voice actually came through the speakers.

"Hello, Teachers, Students, and Faculty. Welcome back to school. We hope that you all enjoyed your holidays and got the rest you needed to pay attention in class today," the last part was passive. Your principal gave more announcements for clubs and sports around the school, such as upcoming games or reminders for students to buy the school yearbook.

You were nodding along interested, or looking for interest really when something caught your best friend's attention.

"The school will also be hosting its first-ever play, Romeo and Juliet. Interested people should report to the music room before the end of the week to receive information."

You saw Daniel's eyes widen only moments before he spoke up. "Hey," he waved at you. "You should audition!"

"Daniel, are you insane?"

He chuckled, "No, but I think you'd like it."

You tried arguing, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You're the one who said you didn't know what you wanted to do after you graduated. Doing this cannot hurt."

"Yeah, it can't hurt until I trip on my costumes and break my neck!"

"That rarely ever happens," he said exasperatedly. "Ok, how about this? You audition, and if you end up getting a role and actually doing the play, I'll give you fifty pounds."

You squinted. "Do you even have fifty pounds to give me?"

"Do you even have to ask," he feigned shock in the accusation? You gave a sour face before he truthfully answered. "Fine, I don't have it now. But I will by the time the play comes around."

"What do I get just for auditioning?"

"I'll convince my mum to make that cake you like."

"Fine."

"BUT!" he exclaimed. "You have to audition for Juliet."

"You're kidding?"

He laughed. "No, I'm not. You have to audition for Juliet."

"I hate you," you mumbled before sighing a whispered 'fine.'

He gave a toothy smile. "Then we have a deal."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Auditions

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You reluctantly walked onto the stage, Daniel's widening grin so visible in the audience. He said that he only put his name on the audition sheet so he could watch the auditions. He would've already been gone by the time it was his turn.

"Hello, My name is Y/n L/n, and I am auditioning for Juliet," your lips pressing into a straight line after saying the sentence.

You stammered through your first few lines. "Sh-Shall I speak ill of him— that is my husband?" You said with a laugh.

"Ah," you paused and clicked your tongue. "Poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name… When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?"

You said your following line in an accusatory manner. "But wherefore, villain... didst thou kill my cousin?" you said, though your voice squealed trying to pronounce 'didst.' "That villain cousin would have killed my husband."

"Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!" Your voice rose and fell several octaves. "Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy." Fake tears spring to your eyes, your voice cracked, and you began slowly falling against an invisible wall.

You looked down at your paper for what to say next. "My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?" You wiped your cheeks dramatically.

"Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murd'red me. I would forget it fain;" your lips quivered, and you sucked in deep, heaving breaths before speaking your line.

"But O, it presses to my memory. Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners' minds! 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banishèd!" You shouted.

You stood back up in a startling jump, and with a proud smile, you said triumphantly, "And Scene!"

The directors and some students in the audience, especially Daniel, gave a round of applause before the director dismissed you.

You took the steps to the stage and sat next to Daniel as the director called the next student to audition.

"You were amazing! The director might as well have given you the role right then and there."

You laughed, "Hang on, charmer. There were a bunch of Juliet's who literally said that entire thing so… fluently. I stammered through the whole thing."

"But you showed more emotion than anyone else. You only had a week to prepare. The actual show will be like child's play."

"They want people who can memorize and recite. The emotion can be added later, but it's worth nothing if they forget their lines."

"There is such a thing called improvising for a reason," he reassured.

"Who in their right, bloody minds wants to improvise Shakespeare?"

He turned his head and chuckled before waving a five-pound note in front of your face. "Here, I got to go before they call me, but you earned this at least."

"Five pounds for being forced to audition for a stupid play so you can prove a point? Wow, you must really fancy me, huh, Sharman?" you said sarcastically.

"Goodbye, L/n," he whispered before sneaking out the back door of the auditorium.

"Alright, next up. Daniel Sharman!" The director shouted your friend's name a few more times before giving up.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Headmasters Office

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

A week after your audition, you were called to the headmasters' office. Thus is the cause of the curious looks from your classmates. Oohs and Aahs flooded your ears as you grabbed your bag and headed out the door to the front of the school.

When you got to the front of the building and went into the headmasters' office, you saw the Theatre director, Ms Parker, standing behind the desk. "Headmaster Leo allowed me to use his office to do this. Isn't that cool?"

Ms Parker was one of the younger teachers in school. She was twenty-four, and this was her first year teaching after receiving her bachelor's degree in education and a master's degree in music production. A fact she could astoundingly ramble about for fifteen minutes. As proven at the auditions.

"I didn't want to call you to the theatre room. That would be too predictable, correct?" You'd come to realize she was a very eccentric woman. "I have called you in here to inform you that you have been selected to perform in this year's play of Romeo and Juliet."

A wave of shock coursed through your body, and you were sure it reflected on your face. "Are you sure?"

"Darling, I'm positive!- your audition was totally spectacular! So brilliant-in fact- that I am completely sure in my choice to make you our female lead- Juliet!"

"What!" Your eyes widened into a blank stare. Your thoughts were running rampant in your mind. You thought that performing on the stage would be a breeze when you weren't the lead.

"Ms Parker, I didn't actually want the part of Juliet! It's just that my friend dared me to audition for Juliet! Is there no way I can get a smaller part? I'm no Juliet. The show would be ruined," you rambled.

The directors' facial expressions softened, "Darling, you are the only choice. None of the other people who auditioned can even compare to the amount of passion you produced in that audition. I am determined to have you as our Juliet."

You whimpered out an "Ok." Professors had a strange way of convincing you to do extra credit assignments or things that aren't necessary.

"We have a chemistry read for you and a few of our other choices for Romeo after school today. Do you need to contact a parent to let them know where you'll be?"

"Uh, yes, please."

After you made your call, you walked back to your classroom with shaky hands. The class period was almost over, but you had to tell Daniel that you had gotten a part in the show. Not just any part- THE PART!

You shuffled into the classroom reluctantly. All eyes were on you as every student had assumed you'd been in trouble. Either suspended, expelled, or told your parents were going to have a sit-down with the headmaster.

You took your seat next to Daniel before taking out a piece of paper and writing out a note, encompassing the words, "I got the part!"

You slid the sheet discreetly onto his desk. When he read it, his eyes widened, and he quietly moved his hands toward yours, beckoning for a high five.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

First Rehearsal

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

After the chemistry read, the role of Romeo was given to a kid named James Mercer-Allen got the part. Though it was more because the directors were starting to become tired.

The next day was the first rehearsal. Swimming season was last semester, so there was no clash in schedules with the play.

"Alright, this rehearsal is to get acquainted with the stage, your fellow actors, and directors," she insisted. "Now, let's introduce ourselves. Can our Romeo please stand up?"

James stood up and gave a brief introduction. You were called on next. You stated your name, "I was on the swim team last semester, and I'm in my thirteenth year. I hope I can do this role justice."

More students stood up to introduce themselves. The entire process took more than thirty minutes.

The next thing to happen was that the rest of the students were called to recite lines for various roles. The only parts that had been cast preliminarily were Romeo and Juliet.

You and James had sat on the wooden stools unless there was a scene going on that needed Romeo and/or Juliet.

By the end of the first rehearsal, the majority of the speaking roles were cast. You went home exhausted but not expecting the conversation that waited for you.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The Talk

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

"We're moving?" you shouted at your parents from your seat across from them in the sitting room. "What do you mean we're moving."

"Honey, your dad got a job in the states, so we have to move," your mother argued.

"But what about school? No school will take me in the middle of the year, and it's my last year of secondary school. I don't want to spend the rest of my last year knowing nobody."

Your dad, the man of the hour, spoke up. "Dear, we're moving at the end of the year. After school ends."

"But- What about Uni?"

"You said you were taking a sabbatical year!"

"Yes, so I could intern in London!"

"Can't you intern in California?" Your mother whined.

"We're going to California? It's the furthest state?"

Your dad attempted to reassure you but failed. "Darling, it won't be that bad. Maybe you'll like it there more than you like it here!"

"I could never like anywhere more than I like it here!"

You agreed to go to your room and spent the rest of the day there. Later on, after you finished moping, you ringed up your closest friends to tell them you were moving. You did that until you were so tired you fell asleep on the phone with Sarah before you even called Daniel.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Confrontation

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

"Why am I hearing from everyone besides you that you're moving?" Daniel appeared out of thin air behind you, and the accusation was an assault on your conscience.

You could lie and tell him that you wanted to reveal that to him in person, or you could just tell him the truth- say you fell asleep. Mix-and-Match? You ended up just telling the truth. "I fell asleep when I was making some of my other calls. I was going to tell you, I swear!"

"Why didn't you call me first. I'm your best friend?"

"That's why! It was too hard. I kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off because I didn't want to tell you, I don't want it to be true, and telling you of all people would make it feel real."

"Why can't you stay for Uni?"

"I already told my parents I was taking a gap year. I didn't apply to any colleges."

"Crap!" he sighed. "Ok, well, we're going to have to make the most of it. And! You're getting a going away party!"

"Daniel, I don't need-"

"No debate! You are getting a going away party!"

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Opening Night

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Four months later, after all the rehearsals and memorizations of lines. After much running around the entire film department, it was finally opening night, and your nerves were shot.

You were scrambling all morning to find everything you needed. All your costumes were at the school, but you still needed to bring your black leotard, skin-coloured tights, and wear your hair in an up-do style.

You decided to do your skincare routine, but your panic got the best of you, and you forgot what every single product was used for.

Daniel came over and helped you get ready but found you practically hyperventilating.

Your parents drove you both to the theatre, and when Ms Parker told you that Daniel couldn't be backstage, you promptly told her that he was your emotional support. After much arguing, she finally let him backstage.

Around an hour before showtime, the director told Daniel that he had to go wait in the audience if he already bought his ticket or that he had to go do it now.

Before he left, he gave you a pep-talk. "Hey, so one time, I was in this play, and the idea was that I was expelled, and there was a piece of paper I had to give my 'mother,' but I lost it. So we had to improvise, but I couldn't find the paper, and I felt horrible. So just know, even if you forget your lines, you must improvise, and remember, it still probably won't compare to the embarrassment I felt that day. So you can laugh at my humiliation. "

You chuckled, "I will. Ok, go before you get in trouble."

"Ok, me, our parents and all your friends will be in the front row. I've already reserved the entire row. I brought a whole bag of jackets just for that reason!"

"You can't do that," you said in between cackles.

"For you, I'll do anything," he grinned.

A few hours later and the show was almost done. "What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end," you wept.

"O, churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to die with thine restorative." You leaned over James and let your hair fall to the side of your head to cover your face. You pulled back without actually kissing James.

"Thy lips are warm."

A whispery voice came from offstage, "Which way?" The cue for you to take the poison, which was actually cranberry juice.

"Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!" You grabbed the dagger and brought it near your chest. "This is thy sheath;" you drew the fake knife back three inches from your chest and stabbed it to where the bag of more cranberry juice was and punctured the bag. 'Blood' soaked through your dress. "There rust, and let me die." You fell dramatically onto the altar and waited for the scene to end as the crowd cheered.

After the show, you dashed into the crowd where your friends and family waited for you. Ovations and Applauses were passed, lauded boxes of chocolates and gorgeous roses were given.

When you got to Daniel, he practically tackled you with a hug. "I actually thought you died for a split second. The blood looked so real."

"Daniel, most people don't bleed that fast, do they?"

"I don't know but fear kicked in, and I couldn't make sense of anything."

You grinned and almost went to your parents before Daniel grabbed your arm. "You don't have a date to the Leavers ball, do you?"

"No, I don't. Why?"

He sighed. "Well, I was thinking that you could go with me. I don't have a date either."

You squinted, thinking there was some ulterior motive behind his actions. "Ok, I'll go with you if you give me the money you owe me before then."

"It's right here," he smiled.

Your face scrunched up, but you reluctantly agreed. You only had a month of school left, and you might as well spend it having fun with your friends.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The Leavers Ball and the Getaway Party

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You were dressed in a light blue, pleated, Mikado prom dress that cut off at mid-thigh. You had black wedges on your feet and a black pearl-beaded bracelet on your arm.

You were wearing a half-up, half-down style that framed your face and a silver necklace with a circle-shaped diamond.

You were sitting in the parlour when Daniel rang the doorbell. He was ten minutes late.

"Sorry," he said when your dad answered it. "I know I'm late. I was picking up Kat and James."

Kat and James were your and Daniel's respective friends who'd started last year after you and Daniel introduced them.

"Hi," you popped out of the shadows. "Alright, Mom, Dad, we're late, so we're just going to get goi-"

"Wait! I have to take pictures! Go get Kat and James."

"No, Mom. No pictures!"

"It's only right. I just want a few. We can take it outside."

You sighed but reluctantly caved into your mother's will.

The four of you took pictures outside of Daniel's Jeep Wrangler. You took ones with silly faces, just girls, just boys, and ones with all four of you before your parents allowed you to leave.

You were forty minutes late, and the ball was already in full swing by the time you got there.

You got on the dance floor immediately because one of your favourite songs was playing, but the DJ switched the song as soon as you found a decent spot. It was a slow song. You chuckled, and Daniel put his hands on your waist.

"Well, this is awkward."

A few minutes later, Daniel posed an interesting question.

"Did you know that I had a crush on you when you first came to school?"

"Uh, you stammered. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I did. It was short, though. Surface-level."

"Oh," you said. "Should I take offence to that?"

"What?" His eyes widened in realization with what he said. "No, that's not what I meant. You have an amazing personality. I just meant that… I just meant I like you more as a friend than to ruin that with any of those feelings."

"Oh, ok. You wouldn't have, though."

"I wouldn't?"

"No, everyone needs an ego boost every once in a while."

"Haha!"

"And besides, I've had feelings for you at one point too. But it was very cliche, so I tried to shake it as hard as I could."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "And did you?"

"Like I said, as hard as I could. If it's still there somewhere, it's buried very deep, so much so that I was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed to like me?"

"I mean embarrassed to try and make my life seem like some movie."

"Oh, well, if you did, it would've just made you that much better as an actress. Speaking of that, would you consider acting in the least?"

"Maybe, now that I'm leaving, it's basically the last thing I have to connect me to you."

"No," he said, pointing to your bracelet. "You have that."

You had forgotten that it was Daniel who gave it to you, but the realization brought a smile to your face. "Oh yeah, I'll never take it off."

Later on, long before the ball ended, you saw many of your friends leaving.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" Daniel approached you.

"Where is everyone going?"

He wriggled his eyebrows. "Afterparty!"

"But it's not over?"

"Quit being a party popper and just come with us, L/N!"

You gave in, something you did a lot, and you all started driving. When you got there, you realized you were at Daniel's house.

"The afterparty is at your house?" you asked.

"Well…" James answered.

Kat joined in. "It's really an afterparty!"

"This is your going away party!" Daniel finished.

"But I'm not going away for another month."

"Well, now you have an entire month for people to give you gifts and stuff, and you don't have to worry about the party!" He reasoned.

"But why did it have to be after the Leavers ball?"

"Because you're already in a dress, and it has to be a surprise! Surprise!" Kat exclaimed.

"Alright, fine!"

The entire night you partied and danced, and though you didn't drink alcohol, plentiful amounts of pop and mocktails were passed around. The music was a delight to your ears with all your favourite songs. There were chips and pizza with all your favourite toppings.

"This party is awesome!"

Daniel grinned. "Well, I am an amazing party planner if I do say so myself."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Airport

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Daniel's parents drove your family to the airport. Your parents had sold the car. Your dad would return in a week to close a deal on the house. Everything was official, and now you were leaving.

You got out of the car, and the tears forcefully began to fall.

"I'm really gonna miss you, jerk," you said disdainfully to Daniel.

He chuckled. "I'm going to miss you more."

"Impossible!"

He wiped the fallen tear from your eye, and for a moment, you could see every single multi-coloured speck in his eyes and noticed how sometimes they looked blue, and at others, they looked grey or green.

You noticed the curvature of his smile and the chisel of his jawline.You saw the hurt in his eyes that said, 'why do you have to go? You're killing me,' and wanted to never move from that position.

He continued to rub the tears that fell onto your cheek, and the sad moment was as sheltered as it could be. You felt safe with him, in his arms, just looking at his face and being reminded of how he comforted you in a place that felt as familiar as Oz felt to Dorothy.

"What am I gonna do without you?" you whispered.

"Get at least one acting job, get an assistant and an agent, I'll do the same thing, and then either one of us has our assistants reach out to our agents, so we get back in touch in case we ever lose touch."

He sounded so grave that you couldn't help but laugh. "That's assuming I do become an actress, Daniel."

"You're right," he whined. "But don't forget me."

"I promise."

And you tried to keep that promise. Throughout your first year, you interned at UCLA, working in the lab. You then applied to go to school there, and you still tried to keep Daniel in your mind. Maintaining a social life on campus combined with schoolwork already wasn't easy. However, you still wouldn't let yourself forget your best friend.

It wasn't until you entered your senior year and you were about to graduate that he started to wane in your memories. The things you did together became obsolete as new friends and memories replaced the old. The things he taught you were thrown out to make space for the new lessons you learned each day.

Even when you did become an actress, you never really remembered why you decided to. You remembered that your friend pushed you to do that play, but it was almost ten years ago, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember his name.

But you did do it, first as an extra, then a body double, and then you started getting l roles on smaller shows. But your big break was getting a quasi-lead role on the spin-off of a big television show, The Walking Dead. For two years, you enjoyed going to conventions and playing the complex character, Valeria Bishop, and you thought you had it all figured out.

But life has a funny way of coming full circle and throwing you a curveball that knows you off course and changes your life.

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 8.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage

Warnings In This Chapter: Angst

A/N: Always the most gigantic, humongous shoutout to my loves @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​, @ppersonna​ for rooting me on and making it so easy to write these characters who I have come to adore!

The house was quiet when you first woke up. There's an overwhelming sense of comfort in the air as you step out of your bedroom.

You've been getting into a daily routine here, without it you'd probably feel lost or without a purpose.

You really adored the small waterfall alcove beside your room. The sounds are so peaceful and the koi that swim beneath the glass floor are absolutely gorgeous. Entering here was always the beginning of your daily routine.

You weren't fond of wearing heels and for the first time in a long time you had on sneakers. After feeling sick for a few days you decided on a comfortable hoodie, albeit still expensive but you like it. The leggings you wear hug you closely and it brings you ease.

"Little dove?" you hear from behind as you stare down at the koi fish.

"Morning," you say, turning your head to the CEO as he leans against the doorframe of his bedroom.

His eyes are bleary, his forehead creased from the bright light that bleeds through the stained glass windows.

"Why do you always get up so fucking early? You should be sleeping, the baby needs rest. Does it not?" he asks, scratching at his neck with a yawn.

"I'm used to getting up this early, I did have a job not too long ago," you reply, looking over the waterfall walls.

He puts his head back against the door frame, his fingers combing through his sleepy bed head.

"I shouldn't be speaking to you anyway. It's before your morning coffee," you jeer, sitting down on the marble bench.

"Shut up," he retorts but you can hear the humor in his voice. You notice the corners of his lips flickering upward as he shoves off of the doorway.

"Madam?" you hear from the end of the hall.

Your attention turns to Maya as she bows.

Yoongi watches your face light up, he sees the true joy in you and he snorts gently in response. You're really a blessing to this house.

"Good morning Maya!" you say, standing up from the bench quickly.

"Easy does it, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, folding his arms.

"The neighbor Kim Yoona is here to see you." Tilting your head, you can't begin to register the name.

Yoongi laughs gently as he enters the hallway.

"Get me an Irish coffee, please Maya. I'm going to need it if Yoona is here," you turn to him as he speaks, watching as he rubs hand fists over his eyes.

"Who's Yoona?" you ask softly.

"Namjoon's wife. She's actually really sweet. Which is against my religion... so," he says before putting his hand on your lower back to escort you to the staircase.

You don't pull away from him oddly enough. You let him guide you, it's easier than fighting so early in the morning.

"She went to Sairmount Academy like us, too." he notifies you as you descend the stairs together.

"Huh." you mumble thoughtfully.

There were very few memories of Sairmount Academy you remembered. It's kind of bizarre knowing that Yoongi was around all throughout your schooling.

You didn't care to remember many things from school. It was always the same, you were poor and people were rich. You were bullied, Leena and Jin were the only ones who cared for you.

"Morning Yoona," Yoongi says as you reach the bottom floor.

Turning to you, you take in the woman who stands by the couch. She has light brown hair with dirty blonde highlights. Her body is slim and proportionate adorning light ripped jeans and a cashmere turtleneck. The thing that stands out the most though, is her paddock boots. She must really love her horses. She's clean cut and absolutely gorgeous.

But, as she smiles something seems familiar to you.

"Morning, Yoongles," he grimaces at her nickname, accepting the coffee that is rushed over to him.

"Why are you here?" he asks, leaning against the marble stairwell banister.

"Came to see an old friend." Yoona replies.

Tilting your head, your eyes begin to widen.

If she had black, long hair with small polka dot bows and if she was years younger, she would look exactly like an old friend.

"Bang Yoona?" You ask softly and she points to herself with a comical wink.

"That's me," she cheers happily.

"Oh my God!" you cry out, rushing over to hug her.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he watches you both hug. His heart warms at the sight of your pure excitement.

"Small world," he murmurs above the lip of his coffee cup.

"I changed my last name when I got married," she tells you, placing both hands on either side of your face as she pulls away.

You can remember when you were little. Yoona welcomed you quite like Leena. You were happy to spend time with her when you were seven. But, after time went on, she left to Germany with her parents when they accepted different jobs.

You were sad back then having only Leena but then it became a distant memory as you got older.

"You look amazing!" you compliment her as she brushes some hair behind your ear.

"As do you! Once Joon told me that it's you that got pregnant with Yoongi's baby I had to see you!" Yoongi smirks gently as you pull away from one another.

"This is such a pleasant surprise!" you cheer as she slings her arm over your shoulders.

"Come spend the day at my house. Leave Yoongi to his sad self," she winks at you and you giggle in reply.

"Fuck you." Yoongi mumbles. Yoona sticks her tongue out at him before pulling you towards the door.

"I'll show you my horses! They're so beautiful!" she tells you enthusiastically.

"Hey." Yoongi calls to you, whistling loudly for your attention.

You turn to him, a wide smile on your face which makes him smirk.

"Be careful and no riding the horses with the baby inside of you," he says pointedly.

You nod happily before hooking your arm around Yoona's waist.

"Watch out for her!" Yoongi calls to her and she snorts gently as you both walk up the entryway steps.

"Always. I probably know her better than you do," she retorts with a laugh.

Yoongi grimaces at the thought before rolling his eyes.

"Yeah well she's having my baby," he retorts softly.

He watches the front door close as he sips his coffee.

"Maya!" he calls to the empty house as he pushes himself off the stairwell.

"Sir?" he hears in the distance.

"Bring me my yearbooks!" he calls as he begins to ascend the stairs.

You better be careful or he'll raise hell with the Kims.

The walk to Namjoon's house is absolutely breathtaking. You've always stuck around the house, taking walks around the long stoned paths by the garden. But now, walking towards the large mansion in the distance, you can only be in awe of the sights before you.

"I cannot believe what a small world we live in." Yoona says, ripping you out of your trance.

You giggle as she hugs you tightly to her side.

"I know," you reply as you both move out of the way as a car passes by.

The limousine begins to slow down, the window sliding down as well.

Very unfortunate for you, the face of Sera is right in your sights.

"Good morning Yoona! You look ravishing today!" Sera's voice is filled with overly sweet tones.

Your stomach begins to roll at how fake she is.

"Hi." Yoona says briskly, hand gripping beneath your arm tighter.

"See you've taken on a pet project. How gracious of you." Sera says, leaning her body out the window and grimacing in your direction.

Your friend from childhood stops in her tracks. "I think Y/N is delightfully where she should be in life. Unlike you, Sera. If anyone needs a pet project, I'll be sure to have them reach out to you."

You can hear Sera scoff loudly as Yoona tugs you down the road.

"Oh, and Sera?" Yoona calls Yoongi's wife.

You watch the pretty woman angle her head out of the car as if she would be expecting an apology.

"It's 2020, no one drives around in a limousine anymore. It's an embarrassing way to flaunt your money. You should get a Rolls Royce or an Astin Martin. No one wants to see you in a rickety old limo. That shit is for the birds," you put your hand over your mouth, gasping with a laugh as Yoona tugs you down toward her mansion.

"I cannot believe you!" you squeal as she laughs loudly.

Entering Namjoon and Yoona's house you're astounded at how different yet gorgeous it is to where you live now.

The house has an English feel to it, limestone and wooden hardware really bring it all together. The house screams Victorian Gothic and you find it all so wonderful.

"What do you think?" Yoona asks as she passes through the sitting room

"This is beautiful, Yoona. I can't even believe it!" you say in awe. Your eyes glance up, looking at the chandelier before she's tugging you into the next room.

"Namjoon and I are a bit obsessed with old English history. Like this, this is my most prized possession in the whole house," she says stopping in front of a large glass case.

Looking down, your eyes widen so big they could almost fall out of your head.

Gorgeous jewels and diamonds sit nestled in silver and gold. There are crowns, necklaces, earrings and all sorts of other baubles.

"Holy shit!" you whisper out.

Your hands situate behind your back as if you're in a museum.

"All of these belonged to King Henry the Eighth and his many wives! My favorite is Anne Boleyns." Yoona says pointing at a crown that is more grandiose than all of the others.

"Yoona, these are really beautiful," you breathe out.

She wrinkles her nose gently, leaning against the varnished hardwood table.

"Ready to go see my horses?" she asks as her maid brings you both glasses of water.

You nod to her happily as you move away from the royal jewelry.

Stepping out into the backyard of her house, you can't seem to see where the line is drawn between her house and Yoongis. The grass is perfectly cut and a luscious green that makes you feel at peace.

"Just over here." Yoona calls to you as she takes off toward the horse barn.

"Whoa." It feels as if you're almost in a movie.

You can see men walking to and fro with metal buckets filled with water and different foods. They all have on the same uniforms, something akin to what jockeys would wear before a big race.

The horse barn, as you approach, looks just like a home. Something comfortable and clean that could very well have people living inside of it.

"My pride and joy is Rapture. He's won five awards since he's been born and he is the biggest sweetheart," your heart warms at how enthusiastic your childhood friend sounds.

The barn doors open and you feel as if you've been thrust into a fairytale.

There are six horses, all beautifully kept with various colors and sizes on their coats.  Whinies and neighs enrapture your ears as the animals spot Yoona.

"It's like you're the Snow White of horses," you whisper to her as she picks up some carrots by the front door.

"Well, they're my babies," she replies, a motherly smile plastered on her face.

"Jooheon," she calls out.

You watch a man around your age appear. His hair is a light shade of blue and his eyes are soft and doe-like. His cheeks are high and his jaw is sharp like it has been carved by the gods.

He's incredibly tall and muscular, his thick thighs quiver and flex as he walks towards you both.

"Madams," he says, bowing down to you both.

His eyes lock with yours as he stands back up, a smirk on his features as he winks at you.

Finally, Yoongi had brought home his laptop for work. He hasn't really given much thought to why he feels the need to stay home so much these days. He doesn't want to think about it, he just lets things be.

Throwing his feet up on his desk, his eyes falter to the stack of yearbooks that Maya has so kindly brought him.

Seeing Yoona this morning, someone he's always known suddenly knowing you, it made him curious.

How could he have gone throughout all of his Sairmount schooling AND college to never know you?

Sipping his coffee, he opens up the first yearbook.

His eyes narrow at the pages, looking over all the small kids with the same uniforms.

"Y/N. Y/N." he mumbles as his index finger glazes over the children's faces.

His eyebrows crease as he leans back in his desk chair.

You were in none of these pictures, not that he could see anyway.

Flipping through the pages of the book, he passes the newspaper club, the computer club, the chess club before finding solo pictures of each student.

His lips puff out as he skims along the pictures.

"Holy shit," he whispers, setting down his coffee cup.

There you were. Small and cute in front of his eyes.

But, there's something familiar about you as he continues to stare at the picture. You with your small tie and blazer, he feels like he's always known you.

Then it hits him, you were in his class. He fucking remembers you, sitting three seats behind him in History.

Purchasing his hand beneath his chin, he stares at the small pictures in his history textbook. He couldn't be bothered to study for the pop quiz and he knows that he probably failed.

His father was going to be disappointed, as always. His father is never proud of anything he does so why should this matter.

"Sir Min," the teacher, Mrs. Park, calls to him.

With the roll of his eyes, he looks up at his teacher.

"Yeah," he mumbles as Hoseok slides a note beneath the lip of his book.

"Do you realize that I've been calling your name for the past three minutes?" Mrs. Park asks as she leans down on her desk.

Running his fingers through his hair, the tip of his tongue grazes over his teeth. He leans back in his own chair, eyes glazing over the teacher with a bored expression.

"No. I was too busy looking at what underwear people used to wear," he mutters aloud.

He can hear other kids snickering and murmuring at his joke. A sly smirk begins to spread over his face while he fixes his tie.

"You think this is funny? You think failing is funny?" she quips as she holds up the quiz.

He can feel his neck heating up out of embarrassment.

"The future heir of Kisung can't even pass a history quiz? Maybe your parents should get a phone call," she asks him, her legs wading through the multitude of desks before plopping the sheet down on his table.

He takes in all the red lines that are scoured over the paper.

"I bet you can't even tell me when the Mongols invaded the Goryeo dynasty," she says earning a multitude of hushed voices.

He turns his head to the others behind him, his eyes dancing over the kids that sit with their eyes on their desks.

Then they falter to you as you stare at him shamelessly. Your small hands form fists as you look from him to Mrs. Park.

Secretly, you begin to raise your fingers.

One.

Two.

One.

Six.

He clears his throat as your eyes falter to your desk and he turns back to the teacher as she raises her eyebrow.

"The Mongols invade Goryeo in 1216," Yoongi says as he swings his arm over the lip of his chair.

She purses her lips at his answer, eyes narrowing at him.

Maybe your information was wrong.

"Well, if you knew that then why did you fail the quiz?" she asks softly, retreating to her desk at the front of the class.

He breathes a gentle sigh of relief, turning his head to you. He nods to you as Leena pinches your arm. Nodding back, the corner of your lips flicker upwards before pinching your best friend.

Yoongi chuckles to himself as he recalls the memory.

You saved his sorry ass that day, if it wasn't for you he would have had to kneel on rice in a corner for God knows how long.

"Interesting," he whispers to himself as he continues to flicker through the yearbook.

"You have a phone call, Mrs. Kim," someone announces from the entrance to the horse barn.

She hums in reply, running her hand over the soft mane of Rapture.

"I'll just be a minute, why don't you spend time with the horses. They seem to love you," she suggests and you nod happily as Rapture rubs his large face against yours.

Giggling, you hold out an apple slice for him and he takes it without complaint.

"You're so pretty," you tell the horse as he munches happily on the slice.

"Do you know anything about horses?" you hear from behind you.

Turning to the owner of the voice, you smile gently as Jooheon wipes a rag over his sweaty face.

"Unfortunately not. But, they're very beautiful," you reply as Rapture nuzzles the back of your head.

The stableman chuckles as the horse rests his head on your shoulder.

"Rapture always finds it easy to feel comfortable around gorgeous women," you can feel the apples of your cheeks blushing as Jooheon tosses the rag he holds up in the air.

"I'm sure you really like this job," you say, running your hand over the horse's neck.

He nods to your statement, leaning back against one of the wooden doors. "I've always liked animals more than people. When you look into a horse's eyes, you can see so much emotion. You can practically see their souls bare in front of you."

His admission makes you think. You can understand people that love and respect animals more than people.

"That's really sweet," you tell him as he fixes his uniform.

He gives you a smile, one that's enchanting showing off his perfectly white teeth.

"It's just the truth," he replies as Rocket, an all white horse, nuzzles his face.

"I know, girl. Don't get jealous cause I'm talking to a pretty woman," he whispers and this time your ears heat up.

"The Madam was telling everyone that you're an old school friend," he says, patting the horse's face.

You nod, a reminiscent smile on your features. "Yeah. Yoona was a good friend when we were younger."

He takes delight in how you smile, how perfectly shy you are.

"Did you move in around here?"

"Yeah. I'm living with the Min's," you answer as Rapture snorts gently onto your cheek.

"Must be nice to have money," he quips.

You shake your hands quickly. "Oh. I'm not rich."

He hums playfully, looking over your expensive attire with an unsure eye.

"I thought Min Yoongi was married," he counters as he slides his right foot up onto the stable door behind him.

You watch his thighs flex once more before clearing your throat. "He is. I'm just... I'm pregnant with his... y'know... his baby."

Jooheon whistles loudly at the admission. "Interesting. But, you're not dating him, are you?"

The question makes you laugh, feeding another apple slice to Rapture while shaking your head. "No. I am not."

Jooheon nods slowly as he stands up and you can hear the horse barn door opening to your right. "Can I ask you out on a date then?"

Puffing from his cigar, Yoongi leans back into the armchair he sits in. His fingers pull and push at his cards on the green felt.

"I call." Jeongguk mumbles and the CEO tosses some extra chips into the center of the poker table.

Although Jimin was invited to tonight's poker game, Yoongi thought it wise that he didn't accept. The shorter man was hanging on by a hair, the last time he was in this house.

Guk was more than happy to sit in his seat beside Taehyung for the evening.

The classical music swells throughout the room and Yoongi stares down at the chips in hand. Once that memory of you from childhood came flooding back, he can remember smaller ones too.

Ones like when you were being bullied or when the girls tried to steal your lunch. He can remember all the times he heard Leena screaming to protect you, and he finds himself feeling more accepting of her.

"Yoona had a great time with Y/N today. She loves her," Namjoon says, earning everyone's attention.

"Well I think they used to be friends, no? I don't remember much about Y/N but I remember that she was friends with Leena, Yoona and of course Jin," Hoseok says.

"What do you mean 'of course Jin?'" Yoongi finds himself asking, something inside of him growing terse and annoyed.

"Well he was always with them. He was Leena's boyfriend when we were younger too. He was the only boy that used to hang around with them."

He starts to simmer down at his admission. "Oh," Yoongi whispers.

"Read 'em and weep, hyungs," Jeongguk says with a smug grin, flipping over his cards.

Taehyung groans long and low, his hands carding through his hair as Guk shows them a straight flush.

"Goddamn. This kid wins in everything! Whether it's boxing, car racing or cards!" Tae complains as Guk collects his chips.

Yoongi chuckles to himself, lifting his whisky glass to his lips.

"I'm really glad Y/N has a friend around here." Namjoon says and to this the Kisung CEO nods.

He wants you to thrive. He can say this until his face turns blue.

As Maya begins to deal the cards once more, the library door slowly begins to open. The sound draws everyone's attention and they stay silent as you enter.

Your face is buried in a book, your feet slowly shuffling into the big room. The sight of you makes Yoongi smirk, your hand is pressed on your flat stomach as you continue farther into the room.

You look precious. Your hair is slightly wet from a shower not too long ago and your eyes are enraptured with the words you read.

"Beautiful," he whispers under his breath but the sound is swallowed by Namjoon clearing his throat.

You look up quickly, clearly startled by the noise.

"Oh my God, it's Thursday! I'm so sorry!" you cry out as you slam the large book in hand shut.

"No worries, little dove. Come. Get a book," Yoongi calls to you as you try to leave.

"Hey Y/N." Namjoon says with a comforting smile.

Your eyes meet his and the friendly face makes you smile widely. "Hi Joon. Good evening!"

You wink at Maya, scurrying behind her to find a new book to read.

Oh, Joon is it?

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he burns out his cigar. He wafts the smoke away from your direction, picking up his whisky glass.

You had changed your clothes. Now wearing a purple free flowing sundress.

Might be better to not have tight clothes on, if they make you uncomfortable. The father of your child finds himself thinking.

"Y/N. Can you tell Leena to call me, please?" Taehyung whines.

Turning to him, you narrow your eyes playfully.

Why can't Yoongi see you like this? Is it because he's too big of a dick?

He wishes you would be so free with him…

"Tae. I'm told that you're in the dog house," you jeer as you grab a book.

Tae, is it?

Yoongi gulps down the rest of his drink, his throat burning as his gut explodes with alcoholic fire.

"Tell her I'll book the penthouse. I promise," he says, holding out his pinky.

Humming cutely, you step onto the platform beside Maya. Grabbing his pinky, he gives you a wink and it almost sends Yoongi onto the fucking floor.

"Don't you have some reading to do, little dove?" he asks quickly, watching how tightly Taehyung grips at your pinky.

You look over at the CEO before nodding. He gives you a small smile and your heart stutters as you return it.

"I'm Jeongguk! But, you can just call me Guk or Gukkie," the youngest calls to you.

You bow your head to him with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"That's Hoseok," Namjoon says, pointing his thumb to the left of him.

You give a small wave before looking down at the book you hold.

"Well I'll let you get back to it. I'll just be reading," you say, mostly to Yoongi.

He nods above the lips of his glass, watching you press the book to your flat womb.

You're fucking endearing as all hell.

"Or, you can join us," Joon suggests.

Yoongi grimaces at the idea. Why would he fucking ask you to stay? In a room with all these handsome men? No.

"No. She said she wants to rea-" the father of your child begins to say before you cut him off.

"I might destroy you," you quip and his mouth hangs open at your banter.

Yoongi watches as Maya begins to smile, a proud smirk gracing her features already.

"Poker is about luck," Hoseok jeers.

"Well I did get knocked up on a pass by. Seems like I'm pretty lucky," you joke, making the others laugh.

Yoongi snorts to himself as you share camaraderie with his friends.

"That's my baby you're talking about," he says, pointing his index finger over the lip of his glass to you.

You give him a warm smile, the apples of your cheeks raising as you giggle.

"Here, noona. You can sit in my seat," Guk says and it rubs Yoongi the wrong way almost immediately.

"She can have my seat, you're a guest," he says quickly.

"Oh no, it's fine. Noon-"

"Y/N, come." Yoongi's voice is strict and you roll your eyes at his commanding demeanor.

Setting down the book on the lip of the table, you take his seat. He stands behind you, handing the burnt out cigar and ashtray to Maya.

The smell might make you feel sickly.

"Jeongguk always wins," Hoseok notifies you and you hum curiously.

"We'll see," you reply as you begin to stack Yoongi's poker chips. He can smell your shampoo, violets and vanilla--it smells amazing.

"You know how to play?" He whispers softly in your ear, you shiver at his warm breath, smelling the alcohol on his pallet.

It reminds you of your first night together and you press your thighs into one another at the memory.

"Oh, I know how to play," you reply.

He places his hand on your shoulder as Maya begins to deal.

"Don't spend all of my money, we play with real bucks here," Yoongi says, his thumb grazing over the softness of your skin.

You feel yourself relax as his skin grazes yours. It feels comfortable, it feels kind of right.

Lifting your cards, your thumb skims over the tops and Yoongi holds his breath waiting for what you're going to do.

A diamond ace and a ten of diamonds sits in your hand. Yoongi presses down on your shoulder, almost as if he's proud of you.

"Raise," you mumble as Yoongi slides his thumb over the column of your neck.

You can see all the other billionaires staring at you and you calmly grab three poker chips before throwing them into the middle of the table.

"She's got a good poker face," Hoseok quips as he lifts his glass of brandy.

You feel your heart pick up speed as Yoongi slides his free hand over your other shoulder.

"Good girl." He whispers softly in your ear and your eyes flutter shut at his praise.

What the fuck is going on?

This Yoongi, the one behind you feels so different than the man who you moved in with just a week or so ago.

"Who are you and what have you done with Yoongi?" you quip into his ear softly.

You watch as Maya begins to flip three cards, you snort gently as a king, a queen and a four, of the same suit appear.

"He's gone." Yoongi murmurs, earning widened eyes from you as you focus on your cards.

You watch as the others toss chips into the middle and you throw a few more as Yoongi sips his whisky.

Your stomach begins to coil as he presses his thumbs down into your shoulders with soothing circles. He's fucking massaging you.

You find your body relaxing into his chest and stomach.

Yoongi watches the way your thighs quiver as you cross your legs. He can see the back of your neck flushing and his tongue licks over his bottom lip slowly.

"So, Y/N," Joon says, elbowing Hoseok with a wink. You shy away from the CEO's touch and he feels like he's being rejected all in a quick second.

Yoongi sighs gently, his eyes flutter shut and he loosens his grip on you.

"Yoona tells me you got a date today," you clear your throat uncomfortably as the men look pointedly at you.

Yoongi's eyes widen at the new information. He pulls away from you, making up the excuse in his mind to grab another grab of whisky.

He can feel the rage beginning to burn through him, as if someone has lit the end of a stick of dynamite. His eyes flutter shut and he steadies himself on the lip of the bar.

How fucking dare someone try to ask you out. How dare they?

"Oh well, Jooheon is really kind," he hears how soft your tone is and he can't help the way his hand shakes as he picks up the whisky bottle.

Why does the prospect of you dating drive him almost to the brink of insanity?

"You told him no, right?" he finds himself asking, he stares at his reflection through the mirrored wall. His face is pink with anger, the veins in his neck protruding as he grips tightly onto his glass.

You can't see him, but you can hear how livid he is.

"Well, I-" before you can even reply, he's charging across the room.

His hand grips at your arm and without a second thought he's tugging you to the library door.

You swallow thickly as he kicks the door open with his foot in a moment of blind rage.

"Yoongi!" you complain as he pulls you into the game room next door.

He slams the door shut behind him, his back presses into the cherry wood. Narrowing his eyes at you, he sneers.

"You told him no, right?! You do remember the contract, correct? Or, are your childish feminine hormones making you blind?" he barks out.

Your face begins to set into a scowl as you continue to stare at him. Why not be a brat? It's something you're quite good at when you're upset with him.

"Well if I can't get cock from you, then I'll have to get it elsewhere," your statement drops like a bomb and in a second he's pushing you up against the wall.

"Don't you fucking dare get snarky with me, like that. No cocks are going in this tight little cunt, do you understand me?" he seethes through his teeth.

Your eyes meet his, both sets are glaring and determined.

"Well then, guess you should have accepted my offer to fuck me," you quip.

He chuckles darkly, the sound shaking you to the core. And, for the first time he places his hand over your stomach.

"You couldn't handle this cock in your pregnant pussy, believe me. If I even see you with another man, I'll fuck him up."

"Why, jealous?" you ask as his thumb swipes over your stomach.

The feeling of his hand over your child can only compare to the sun. It feels wonderful.

"What do I have to be jealous of? I have it all. And that includes you. You're mine," he barks out and you hum unsurely, turning your face away from him as his forehead presses to yours.

"Just because I'm having your baby, that doesn't make me yours," you reply, your eyes focus on the pinball machines at the far end of the room.

"Yeah. It really does, little dove," you can hear the agitation in his voice, the annoyance he feels can match yours.

The tip of his nose grazes over your cheekbone as he presses his face closer.

The burning anger in him subsiding as he continues to drift his hand over your stomach.

"Just... don't." It's practically a plea falling from his lips.

Your eyes flutter shut at his now soft tone.

"I told him no," you whisper and you can feel his breath of relief as it rushes over your lips and neck.

"Then why are you pissing me off?" he asks gruffly.

"Because you made me mad," you retort as his hands grip at your sides.

He stays silent for a second before responding.

"I know. I'm getting way too good at that. I'm sorry," he whispers.

You swallow thickly, he's apologizing? He's really not himself today.

"Did you get a concussion?" you ask as he pulls away from you.

He raises an eyebrow as he keeps you at arms length. His fingers comb through his hair, a few odd strands falling back into his eyes.

"A concussion? What?" he replies, confused.

"You're acting weird," you comment as he fixes his blazer.

He begins to smirk as he leans back against the pool table. "I told you, old Yoongi is gone."

Humming unsurely, you intertwine your fingers.

"I'd really like it if you could not give me whiplash every few minutes. Makes it a lot bearable on my neck," you say as you fix your dress.

His eyes falter to your swollen breasts, his tongue licks over his lips while he does his best to calm his breathing.

"I'll be more thoughtful," he whispers and you bite your bottom lip, nodding carefully.

"We should get back," you tell him as you push off of the wall.

He nods gently and he grips at your wrist as you try to walk away from him. You turn to him as his eyes become softer. "No boyfriends, no dates."

You smirk as you look him over. "No boyfriends. No dates," you promise and he cups your cheek gently without even thinking.

"I like the fierce you. Makes my heart feel warm," he comments, leaving you in the game room on your own.

When he touches you, it makes your heart feel warm as well.

Next Chapter --->

Third Wheeling Taglist- @wickizer​​, @imluckybitches​​, @slothykreuger​​, @claireelise19​​, @ggukkieland​​, @rspbrryy​​, @iv-bts​​, @bambuzlee​​, @chanelbts​​, @mxxngxdss​​, @bluewhale52​​, @milesjeon11​​, @diamonddia-mond​​, @vinylphwoar, @yxnxxli​​, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn​​, @bts-7beauts​​, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace​​, @eclectically-esoteric​​, @nikkiordonez12​​, @kaitswrld​​, @skamlover200​​, @sevgilove98​​, @kooeuphoria​​, @jikooksgirl19​​, @hobbledehoy26​​, @singular-itae​​, @dchimminie​​, @lowlifeoeuvre​​, @sugaslittlekookies​​, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth​​, @softysuho​​, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire​​, @betysotelo18​​, @jeonmisha​​, @iwanttohitmyself​​, @ayyyocee​​, @neverthefirstchoice​​, @itsbangtanoclock​​, @little7bitchh​​, @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​, @deathkat657​​, @firstlovesuga-93​​, @namjoonia​​, @paperpurple​​, @muzikabijou​​, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites​​, @kleff03​​, @ruinsofangels​​, @brightwingr5​​, @leekanchol​​, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside​​, @melaninkpops​​, @y00ngisbabygirl​​, @ungodlyjoon​​, @prochnost513​​, @dunixxd​​, @athenakyle​​, @igotnotype​​, @chxmachxps​​, @tinymintyoongi​​, @vangameren-blog​​, @alpaca1612​​, @ohcarolinamin​​, @thegreatestsushi​​, @jooniebugg​​, @eltrain80​​, @btsmylife21​​, @deeepvibes​​, @httpminyg​​, @deliciouslydisturbed365​​​, @rkchmestizangmaldita​​​, @jimin-chu​​​, @pimpnameyannie​​, @preciouschimine​, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet​, @vanillamyg​, @aamxxrii​, @kooafraid​, @ladykadyrova​, @singjisu​, @yazanii​

Some people couldn’t be tagged! I’m sorry about that!

[monsterhighdiaries]

Frankie’s SDCC Diary - June 26th 12:01am MST (Monster Standard Time)

Ow-Ow-Ow! Brain freeze!

Uh, can I get up now?

Cause this bed is really uncomfortable, these straps are cutting off my circulation, and someone has dressed me in really ugly clothes. I don’t know how I know they’re ugly but yikes are they scary and not in a good way.

Mom is crying and telling me how beautiful I am. While my dad is running around like a crazy person shouting, “It’s alive!” It? I am most definitely not an “it”. What I am mostly is happy, sad, confused, enlightened, worried, hopeful and hungry – all at the same time. . . hmmm maybe I am an “It”.

Dad has stopped circling the lab long enough to un-strap me, hug me and name me. Frankie. Frankie Stein.

I like it. It seems to suit me somehow.

Dad helps me stand and he walks me over to a mirror. I can tell that he’s nervous cause this is the first time he’s stopped talking since I was born.

I like the way I look. My hair is long and straight and white with streaks of jet black. My left eye is green, my right eye blue and my lips are full with a definite pout.

I spin to see what I look like from behind and “rrrrippp”! I hear my mom say, “Honey I told you should have used the more expensive thread!”

She rushes over with her sewing kit and does a quick fix on my leg where the stitches have torn.

“Your father is a brilliant man and a great mad scientist but he’s a bit of a cheapskate.”

My dad says, “I am not a cheapskate I’m frugal.”

“Frugal my neck Bolts,” mom says back.

“Why did we have to wait until a thunderstorm rolled through to have our daughter when we could have simply used power from a wall outlet? It’s not like we’re living in the 18th century any more.”

Dad answers back, “Now dear, you know we’ve already had this discussion. A child should have a sense of tradition and if it was good enough for us it’s good enough for her.”

I think I like the idea of tradition. It makes me feel like I have a real history. I can tell mom just wanted me here sooner and that’s pretty cool too.

I’m not sure what I should do next but out of all the things I’m feeling, hungry seems to be pushing itself to the top of the list. Dad says we can fix that and heads upstairs to the kitchen.

Okay so I’m sitting at a table covered in food that looks and smells scarylicious.

The Most Scarylicious:

Pizza- How could there possibly be anything better than this?

Oranges- Peel’s nasty – inside delicious!

French Fries- Little wands of magical tasty goodness!

Chocolate – Wow! This stuff is to absolutely live for!

Ice Scream – It's just . . . Perfect.

The Just Plain Scary

Brussels Sprouts – These seem to be small yet thoroughly evil cabbages.

Liver – Am I being punished for something?

Sauerkraut – One of my dad’s experiments gone wrong?

After I’ve tried everything mom comes in with a beautiful cake and 1 candle. Dad tells me to make a wish and blow the candle out. What do you wish for when you have everything?

Dad thinks I need to get caught up on pop culture since I’ll be starting high school this year so he had Uncle Egor, he's not really related but he’s been in the family like forever, buy some "Fashion" magazines to help me. Uncle Egor seems to be very sweet but I don’t think he always brings back what he's supposed to.

I’m just not sure that articles on “Gifts Ideas for the Ghoul who has Everything” or “Tips on Turning Your Backyard Guillotine into a Food Processor” are really helpful.

Dad comes to my rescue with a copy of last year’s Monster High Yearbook.

Wow! Everybody at Monster High looks so cool! I really love the way Clawdeen Wolf dresses and Draculaura seems really sweet – at least from her paintings – Vampires don’t show up in photographs. I can’t wait to meet and get to know them.

Mom and dad pull out the old photo albums and we spend the next few hours looking at pictures from their past.

It was scary cool, especially the wedding album! Lots of guests and they were all carrying torches. Very romantic!

Mom and dad tell me they had to move a lot because of dad’s business and they didn’t want to have children until they found a place where they could really settle down. When they finally moved here they knew they were home.

We stay up through the night, me asking questions and mom and dad telling stories about their life together.

I start to yawn and mom says, “Off to sleep and a recharge for you now.”

Dad looks at his watch and says, “Just one more thing you have to see before bed.”

He leads us to the top of the house and onto a balcony facing east. The sky slowly catches fire as the sun burns off the early morning darkness. “It’s so beautiful,” I say.

Then dad and mom give me the biggest hug and tell me “It’s never been so beautiful as it is today because we get to share it with you.”

I love my life and can’t wait to see where it goes from here!

Thanks to all the mad scientists at Mattel who helped bring me and my Monster High friends to life!

♡ Frankie Stein