#maya writes

[lucidfairies]

money [a.a]

pairing: ceo!abby x secretary!reader

synopsis: when you finally land the job of your dreams, you had no idea what your boss would be like. and damn, no idea you conjured could've done her justice.

warnings: top!abby, bottom!reader, age gap (reader is in her 20s, abby is in her early 40s), cunnilingus (r/a receiving), strap (r!receiving), praise + degradation, mommy kink, dirty talk, manhandling, pet names (sweetheart, sweet girl, angel, baby, whore, slut)

word count: 3.3k

it wasn't everyday that you landed a job with one of the most well known law firms in washington. for now you were just a secretary, someone to sit outside of an office and take calls, but your hope was to work your way up to one of their lawyers.

you had little prior experience with being a secretary, but it was just enough to get you this gig. the building was large, and the office you were to assist was on one of the highest floors, naturally where the head of the firm was.

you knew her, abby anderson. incredibly talented lawyer who even won over a supreme court case. though you hadn't met her in person, you were exhilarated to meet her. she was who you dreamed to be, especially by her age.

it wasn't until your third day, when abby was finally in the office, when you got a glimpse of what working here would actually look like. abby showed up in a well pressed black suit, armani logo drilling into your eyes like a laser, making you feel all that underdressed.

"do I know you?" she asked when you knocked gently on her office door and went in. she truly didn't mean to be rude - her son had been sick for three days and she was feeling it now - but you didn't know that. you automatically assumed she was an asshole, and that threw you off.

you cleared your throat, meeting her eyes and immediately shifting them again. she was intimidating, almost scary. "I'm y/n. I'm your new assistant." she looked you up and down, gaze still burning your skin, and the corner of her mouth turned up to a smirk.

"great. I take my coffee black, nothing in it. there will be a card on your desk that you can charge it to every morning. get yourself something. I expect you to leave before I do, as I stay late. by any chance, do you babysit?" your eyes found hers as you finally looked up.

"I mean, I can. I used to when-" she cut you off, uninterested in anything except the yes. you noted that for later.

"I might need you to pick up my son from school every couple weeks. not often, and certainly not until I've run a background check on you." she wasn't hardly looking at you now, eyes flipping between her papers and computer. "did I miss anything?"

"no ma'am," you said, standing up and instinctively wiping off your skirt, though there was nothing there. suddenly you were back at your desk, waiting for calls and bookings to come in while trying to make sense of that interaction.

the next day you arrived late, but in your defense, the line at the coffee place was long and traffic was even longer, and now you weren't even sure that the coffee was hot. abby was there when you gently knocked on her door, allowing your entry with a low 'come in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, there was really bad traffic and the line-"

"it's okay, sweet girl." your stomach flipped. yesterday, when your eyes knew nothing but the floor, you hadn't exactly taken in her appearance, but today. today.

today she was in a black turtleneck, sleeves right around the muscle in her arms that just made her look so, so good. her black slacks were tight at her hips with a belt, and they were hugging her legs so tight that you were sure the seam would rip.

her hair was pulled into a nice bun and she wore no makeup, not that she ever needed to. she had freckles, beautiful eyes. rings. she had rings, that she could put inside of you any day.

"I'll be on time tomorrow, miss." your gaze dropped again as you turned to leave her office. this was surely going to be nothing but torture for the following months.

two weeks later was the first time she asked you to stay late. you originally had plans, but the way your name dripped off of her tongue like honey made you immediately cancel them. she had asked you politely to pick up her son, and you even acquired her number from the ordeal.

dealing with kids was not your specialty, but abby's son was a delight. he talked all about his mom, some about his dad and it made you wonder if abby was single or not. she never wore a ring to your knowledge, not even on a necklace, and from your speculation she almost looked like a lesbian. maybe you were just dreaming about the end.

if you had taken your apartment and multiplied it by ten, it still wouldn't be half the size of abby's house. she truly did have money, if the armani suits and porsche didn't say that already.

an hour into your babysitting, which almost just felt like hanging out with a kid in a mansion, abby got home. she walked in, greeting you with the first real smile you had ever seen on her face. your brain malfunctioned when you gently placed her hand on your arm and pressed an innocent kiss onto your cheek.

you were blushing profusely, pupils blown, almost dizzy, all she did was kiss your cheek, a very normal way of greeting someone and you were fucked. abby didn't fail to see you run your fingers over the spot and look at them before quickly turning back towards the two of them.

abby lived for it. lived for the you drooled over everything she did, lived for the way that she was sure her fingers would look so, so good in your mouth... and she tried not to think about it. how could she, when her son was standing right next to her, trying to tell her about his day, and you. you just looked so innocent.

you were engulfed in her smell, the perfect balance of pine and amber and erotica. she smelled like five hundred dollar cologne right off the shelf of valentino. you wanted to smell like that, wanted to smell like that, wanted to wear her clothes and have everyone think that you were together.

"thanks for coming, sweetheart. I'll see you on monday." you looked at her with your brows knit, knowing you had work the following day, friday. "take the day off. you did something for me, and I'm repaying you. use my card and get something."

the amount of money she had to just throw around was so attractive to you. she was an independent woman who brought in millions every year and was letting some secretary she had known for three weeks let buy anything on a day off.

monday had arrived, and you had purchased nothing with abby's card, naturally. you weren't one to spend someone's money just because they had a lot of it, or because they told you to. she would've had to buy it for you to accept it, at that.

it was nearing eleven when abby called you into her office by your first name, instead of one of the many nicknames she always seems to use. "sit." she demanded as you stepped in, and you did so.

"is something wrong, ms. anderson?" she wasn't mad, but she was irritated. she told you to do something, told you to put yourself first and you didn't.

"I told you to treat yourself on friday," her gaze left her laptop and met your eyes. "why didn't you?" you blanked for a moment.

"I just.. I didn't feel right spending money that wasn't mine." she gave you a disapproving look, before getting up and coming around her desk to stand in front of you. in a matter of moments, one of her large hands was grabbing your jaw and forcing your head up to look at her.

she bent down slightly, lips grazing over yours, and you were sure she could feel how much your face heated up. "next time I tell you to do something, you're going to do it. understand, sweet girl?"

"I don't-" your pupils were blown and you were so desperate for her to press her lips just a bit closer, fill the gap and just let you have it.

"say 'yes abby'."

"y-yes abby." she let go of your face and went back to her desk, pretending to pay you little attention, but she was acutely aware of the way you pushed your thighs together and squirmed.

"you're dismissed. I expect to see a charge by the morning." you got up and hurried out, going straight to the bathroom. your face was burning up, and you could vaguely see an imprint from her hand.

you were meaninglessly circling the mall, trying to decide what to spend this newfound money on. obviously you wouldn't get something big and glamorous, no matter how much she seemingly wanted you to.

every time you walked, you seemed to pass victoria's secret. It seemed like it was calling you to buy something, and after that interaction with abby earlier, you decided that maybe you should treat yourself and went in.

you looked around for a while before finding a cute blue set, with embroidered, lacy flowers. it was nothing special, just transparent and high waisted, but it was speaking to you. suddenly you knew what you were wearing to work the next day.

- - -

you felt completely scandalous wearing a short little skirt over the lingerie in the morning, with a button down, where the first few buttons were unbuttoned. it was different from your usual dress pants and blouse, but it definitely did what you needed it to do.

work was as usual for the majority of the morning, and you were suddenly doubting why you wore what you did. there was no point, you were seriously delusional and seriously needed help. what kind of freak where's lingerie and completely inappropriate work clothes to work after one minor interaction with their boss?

that was until you got a simple email from ms. anderson herself, reading nothing but;

my office. now, please.

you cleared your throat, brushed out your hair slightly and adjusted your shirt before nonchalantly entering her office. you sat, observing the way she remained quiet for a moment before clearing her desk and turning her attention towards you.

“did you think I wouldn't realize?” she asked, cooly, with her eyebrows raised slightly. “I mean, props to you, you did as you were told. but I checked the card. I'm not the only one who can see the transactions on that card either, sweetheart.”

you were immediately red. who else could see them? “I didn't r-really think-”

“no, you didn't. I bet the men in my finances would love to see you dancing around in whatever you bought, wouldn't they, baby?” she was standing before you could think, hands resting on the handles of your chair. “why don't you show me, huh? I know you're wearing it.”

“I'm not- we can't do that here.” you looked around, though you knew no one would ever bother her and her office had no cameras. “we're at work, abigail.” there was a fast switch in her eyes, the way they went from cocky to wide, almost needy.

“fuck,” her head dropped into the crook of your neck before she ran her nose along your jaw. “say it again. please, baby.” her tone, the gentle pleading made any rational thoughts disappear from your mind. your hand wrapped around the collar of her button down and pulled her in gently.

“abigail,” you whispered, “I want this,” with that, her hands were everywhere, all at once. she was pulling you up, wrapping her large hands around your hips as she pulled you in for a harsh kiss. she was forcing you onto her desk, keeping her lips to yours as your bodies molded to each other.

she left your lips, finding a perfect spot on your neck and sucking. you gasped when you felt her hand undoing the buttons of your shirt and pulling it out of your skirt. you were grabbing her by her waist trying to pull her closer as she continued to mark up your neck and grab your tits.

when she finally pulled away from your neck, her eyes became wide looking at your lingerie clad tits. you slid your shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it, looking up at her as you began to unbutton hers. she didn't let you get very far before she was gently pushing you back until your back was against the cool wood of the desk.

she unclipped your bra and pulled it off, tongue immediately meeting your nipple. she bit it and you yelped, grabbing her shoulders. her large hand was messing with your other, tugging gently and kneading. "I love your tits so fucking much, baby.” she mumbled into your skin while she kissed down your stomach.

she left more hickies on your ribs, but you desperately needed her in one place. she was pulling your skirt down in seconds, pressing her tongue against you like it was nothing and watching you arch and moan. she was eating you out through your underwear for a minute, before you grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.

"take them off." she smirked, and her head tilted slightly to the side.

"who said you're in charge, sweet angel?" the nickname was new, but you fucking loved that she always called you sweet. you were something sweet to her, and that made your brain lag every time.

"abby please," you bucked into her, chasing friction. that's when you felt it; the large bulge in her slacks that you hadn't noticed earlier.

"feel that, baby? that's all for you." she pulled down your underwear slowly, tossing it in the pile of clothes. she spread your lips, watching slick connect and drip down your thighs. your face burned and you covered it, embarrassed. "uncover your face or I'll stop." you did as told.

she pulled a ponytail off her wrist and pulled her hair into a bun before pressing her tongue into your clit and licking a fat stripe. your head hit the desk with a thud, reveling at the feeling. she worked your clit, sucking it into her mouth and painting patterns with her tongue while she pressed a finger into entrance.

she used her free hand to hold you down by your stomach, since your squirming was messing her up. you whined when she added a second finger, not used to her thick fingers. "if you can't take my fingers, how am I supposed to fuck you with my strap?" you moaned at her words, loving the dirtiness of it.

she returned to your clit and you got loud when she curled her fingers up into the best spot, whimpering and groaning. she remembered the time when you pressed your fingers to your cheek in her house, and brought her unused hand to your mouth, tapping your chin lightly. "open your mouth and suck," she instructed, noticing your confused look.

you took two of her fingers in your mouth and sucked them, which shut you up. your stomach coiled, a warm feeling rushing between your legs before you could even mumble a word. it felt like you just kept coming, until she finally pulled away from your cunt.

"are you gonna give me another one, angel?" she was unclipped her belt while you caught your breath. "wanna fuck you all day." she pulled her pants and boxers down just barely enough to get her strap out. "flip over, ass up." you turned over, fucked out muscles aching.

she ran the tip of her strap between your folds, letting your wetness lube it up, then lined up with your hole. she pushed just the tip in, groaning at the way you took it so well and swallowed her in. "what if I just fucked you like this, huh?" you whined.

"please.. need more," you pushed your hips back slightly, trying to push her in further. she pulled out, simply pushing the tip back in.

"desperate fucking whore," she thrust in on the last word, bottoming out immediately. you whimpered, the strap stretching you far more than her fingers. "aw, baby, does that hurt?" she pulled out far and fucked into you again.

she started fucking you, deep and hard, until you were moaning and grabbing onto the desk, trying to stabilize yourself. one of her hands left your hips and grabbed your hair, wrapping it around her fist and tugging. "fuck.. abby- abs.. mommy,”

your eyes widened at the name, which came out unintentionally. she stopped momentarily before groaning and picking her pace back up rapidly. "call me that again." the tip of her strap kissed your cervix and bumped against your g-spot every time. her arm wrapped around your waist, flicking your clit.

"mommy.. m'gonna cum." you slurred, cock drunk and fucked out. she kept her pace, hardly changing anything except for the fact that she was louder now, finding the perfect angle to get the harness to hit her clit.

"just wait a second, my love,” you held it for as long as you could, but it became too much, and she was hitting just right. your mind went absolutely blank as your vision went white, a wave crashing over you as you came.

you could hear abby moaning, but you were still going, and unable to think of anything. “fuck baby, you make such a mess.” you relaxed your tense body and look over your shoulder at abby's soaked harness, pants, and desk.

“m’sorry.” she slowly pulled her strap out and unclipped it front her hips, letting you lay for another minute before she grabbed your hips and helped you flip over and sit up. “wanna make you cum, mommy.” you looked at her with doe eyes, watching her eyes darken.

“I already came, sweetheart. don't worry about me.” you brought your hand down to cup her cunt and she took in a sharp breath. you ground your palm against her clit and she groaned, shifting her stance from foot to foot.

you slid off the desk with wobbly legs and kneeled in front of her, pupils blown. “please mommy,” you ran your nails over her abs and under her boxer strap lightly, making her muscles tense.

“such a slut, aren't you? want mommy to fuck your face?” you nodded, pulling her boxers down to her ankles. her blonde bush matched her hair, and you noticed her happy trail that you hadn't earlier. “stick out your tongue, baby, be a good girl.”

you stuck your tongue out flat, not even getting a chance to lick before she was pressing her cunt to your mouth. she fucked herself on your face, gripping your hair tight and grinding fast. you gently pushed her against the desk, lifting one of her legs to your shoulder and leaving the other one down.

she must have loved the new angle, because she was moaning and grunting more than you had ever heard her. her clit was twitching and puffy, wet from your spit and her slick. she let out an involuntary whimper, and it was like music to your ears. “gonna c-cum on your f-fucking face, angel.”

her legs shook as she came, ans you spent the following moments licking all of it up. you pulled away and stood up, still shaky. she pulled her boxers and slacks up, moving towards the pile of clothes and handing you what was yours. “do you wanna get dinner tonight?” she stopped what she was doing to button up your shirt and zip your skirt.

“yeah, that's great.” she smiled, kissing you softly.

“you can go home if you want to clean up. I can take my own calls for a few minutes.” it was your turn to smile, grateful to get out of your uncomfortable, wet clothes.

“I'll see you tonight?” you asked, looking over your shoulder once you got to the door.

“pick you up at seven.”

a/n: part two? 🤭

tag list: @shewantstoknow @baumbii @zombholic

[mayasaurusss]

Hi! New anon here (🦠). Won’t ask how you’re feeling because we’re all in mourning and in shambles, but what do you think Lottie would be like with a reader who’s an Antler Queen? Lowkey LottieNat-leaning, but reader was the one who got chosen, and now they’re in the spring, and Lottie is THE prophet while reader is THE queen.

Thank you!

Her queen

A/N: Hello my dears, I am back! (I think). This isn't the best of my works and my writing has some improvment to do after my hiatus, but I tried to make it make sense.

Also, let's all welcome dear🦠anon eveyone! I require a round of applause please. Enjoy!

Oh Lottie, the workshipper that you are.

That winter day, when the snow was raging outside and the cold seeped inside the wooden cabin, she consulted with It, asked It what they could do to survive the winter.

When she heard Its voice echo inside her ears, cold as the icy wind and hoarse as a murder of crows and as billions of ghosts’ whispers, she couldn't believe what It was asking, no, demanding of her. You, out of everyone?

That day, she questioned herself whether the Wilderness was real, or a figment of her own imagination. But an order it’s an order, and like the true devotee she is, she compiled. 

When she came into the room, everyone’s faces looked harsh, distant, barely holding it together. The dance of light and shadows the fire projected into the room and onto their faces only added more depth to the seriousness of the situation. Had she been good at art history, Lottie could have confidently said that she had been transported into a baroque’s painting world. Or Victorian gothic, or whatever.

She couldn’t see you at first, not behind the bloody pulp of meat that was left in place of her left eye, not with you away from the center of the room, hidden in the dark, protecting yourself from what was happening. From what was about to happen.

You always looked so precious to her.

Natalie was always It's favorite, but you were always hers.

You were too busy drawing imaginary doodles on the floor, trying to do anything to forget this place to see her walking towards you. Her and your friends’ faces morphed into confusion, anger and jealousy as she arrived at your feet. Only when the fireplace’s lights were gone from your eyes, did you look up. Standing above you, the light shone around her, creating a halo around her figure. She looked almost holy to you, had her face not been shrouded in darkness.

“It chose”.  

Adorned with an antler crown, you order, help and try your best to hold the group together.

You are a beacon of light, a hope inside the darkness. Someone she can count on, someone she knows will lead all of you to safety. 

Lottie is utterly obsessed with you, even more so after you became the Antler Queen. She treats you like a god.

She gives you her share of the food, stuff your clothes with fresh medicinal herbs, kisses you goodnight every day, when the sun goes down, right in the middle of camp, in front of everybody. She looks up at you with love in her eyes, as if you were a gift the Wilderness sent her, for how good of a devotee she was.

Speaking of kisses. Charlotte, previous to the crash, had never been too much into public displays of affection. And, more than that, she never confessed anything about her little crush for you. But after everything went to shit, it’s like a cloud obscures her judgment. She had always felt this need to tell you, to come and sit down next to you and whisper in your ear “I like you”, but never had the courage.

That’s until the Wilderness itself made you their queen, and from then on, all her fears and doubts melted away.

On one of those afternoons when the air gets warmer and the light shines longer, she comes to you. You were sitting down on a log, letting time pass while you carved a figure out of wood. It’s something that always made her smile, how you could still cling to humanity in a place like this. She couldn’t. They couldn’t.

Since the evening was nearing, everyone was finishing up their tasks, sitting by the fire or losing track of time. You looked up to see Lottie’s gaze fixated down on you. “Oh, Lottie. Wha-” you couldn’t finish your words, because the moment you stood up, she took your face in her hands and leaned down to kiss you.

The more time passed, the rougher she had become with you. Her teeth pulled at your bottom lip, her tongue exploring your mouth, her breath heavy against your skin. All of that, in front of every one of your friends. 

You couldn’t let yourself be seen by anyone for a while, especially because Lottie had followed you to your tent. 

She follows you; no matter where you go, you've always got her eyes on you.

Resting inside your tent? Lottie peeks at you.

Hunting with Natalie? She gives you a protection token and prays for you while you are away.

Eating meat by the fire? She watches as your teeth sink into it.

You think it’s a little weird sometimes, but you know she means well. 

And don’t get me started on the rituals.

They are divided into two categories: the ones that are performed in front of everyone, and the ones that only you two share. Despite the height of the experience of a group ritual, it's the private ones that are her favorite. 

She wakes you in the middle of the night, when everyone is asleep and the air is cool. You follow her into the woods, away from the camp. She tells you that the Wilderness has asked her for a sacrifice tonight, and that that sacrifice is you. She tells you that It wants to hear you scream into the night, wants to feel you writhe above the ground it rules over. 

So you sit on an old tree stump, big enough to let you sit comfy on it. Lottie slowly descends down your body, until her face is nestled right where you need her the most. Thanks to her height, she has no problems in placing your legs on her shoulders; hell, you are even slightly curved upwards because of it.

She dives right down, taking you between her lips, workships you until her name echoes between the trees. Under the spring’s moon and stars only you and her exist.

Only with you she can still be human.

You are her god, and she’ll be your servant until she dies.

When you get back to camp, you’re greeted by a tired Taissa sitting by the fire, with deep eyebags, looking at you as if she could kill you with her gaze.

“You should really keep your voice down…”. 

[you-aint-gotta-pray-for-me]

Hell on Earth: Chapter 2

Masterlist

words: 2.5k

pairing: Steve Harrington x ex-friend!Henderson!reader (eventually romantic)

summary: With no word on the whereabouts of Barbara Holland, an unlikely friendship forms as a result of shared desperation and a need for answers.

timeline: set in season one right after Will goes missing

warnings: language, bending of canon, fic from reader's pov (3rd person will be there as well, will warn before a pov change if there is one)

a/n: 2nd chapter let's go!!! steve and (y/n) interaction yay, and we make a new friend so double yay to that, if you haven't read chapter 1 yet, now's the time babes. happy reading!

Reader POV

I wish I could say my night ended after I met Barb. I really do. Instead, I found my idiot brother’s bed empty when I got home, meaning he was out and about at midnight after I explicitly told him not to. I mean, I did expect this, so I don’t even know why I was disappointed. I groaned at the fact that I’d have to drive all the way back and look for him in the woods. Responsibility is kind of a bitch. Just as I was leaving my house to get to my car, I heard a window close shut. Busted. 

“Dustin Henderson. I gave you ONE job!”

Dustin froze mid-step, halfway through pulling off his sneakers. His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” I said, crossing my arms. “What were you thinking? It’s the middle of the night! Where were you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at me. “Nowhere. Just… hanging out.”

“In the woods?” I pressed, raising an eyebrow. “At midnight?”

“Okay, fine!” he blurted, hands shooting up defensively. “I don’t know what you expected me to do, (y/n),” he argued.“I couldn’t just sit here doing nothing.”

I sighed in defeat and looked away. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing of importance. Just useless stuff, the usual.” Lies. Complete lies. I see right through you, Dustin Henderson. 

I nodded, faking satisfaction at his miserable attempt at convincing me. 

“Go to bed. And if I catch you sneaking around next time,” I warned, hoping he took the hint. 

“Yeah, yeah. Wait that just means I don’t have to get caught.”

“Dustin.”

“I’m out.” 

I stood there for a moment, watching as Dustin disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him with the kind of finality that made it clear I wasn’t getting anything else out of him tonight. Typical. 

I headed to my room and locked the door, but sleep didn’t come easily. My mind was already racing with a million little things that were troubling me. No word of what happened to Will, the cycle on Mirkwood, Dustin’s terrible attempt at lying, Barb all alone. It was all too sudden, you know? It feels like a premonition. Something waiting to go wrong. I guess I’ll just have to see. 

~

The next morning at school, I was still in a fog when I rounded the corner to my locker and nearly walked straight into Steve. Of course, that’d happen, seeing how the universe loves me.

“Watch it, nimrod,” he said, walking past me and not even turning around to look at who he almost bumped into. The audacity of some people, I swear to god.

I shot him a glare and replied with the fakest sincerity I could muster. “I’m sorry, your highness. I didn’t see you there.” 

He turned around when he heard my voice. “Oh, you,” he muttered like he was finally registering who I was.

I raised an eyebrow. “Disappointed to see me, yeah?”

He winced. “No, I didn’t- wait, no, that didn’t come out right. What I meant was... I didn’t know it was you, okay? We haven’t- I’ve mis- I, uh,”

“Just watch where you’re going, Harrington.”

“Oh, we’re on a last-name basis now?”

“We’re on a no-name basis now. Leave me alone.” As much fun as it used to be, the banter and the back and forth, he wasn’t the same guy anymore. And as much as I missed him, I was not giving him the satisfaction of being in my company.

“I was looking for you,” he blurted, with a sudden seriousness in his voice while walking back toward where I was standing. Wait, what? 

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure you have the right person? My name is (Y/n). (Y/n).”

“Don’t- Don’t do that. Come on.” 

“I’m sorry I just thought you wouldn’t remember who I was. It’s not like we’re friends, right?” I asked, mentally shuddering at how cold that sounded. Damn, (y/n), didn’t know you had it in you. 

Steve hesitated, visibly uncomfortable with my bluntness, but he didn’t back down. “Look, I know things between us aren’t… I’m not a uh,” he hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “But that’s not exactly what I wanted to talk about.”

I gave him a skeptical look. “Oh? And what exactly did you want to talk about?”

“Look, I know you’re mad at me and all. But is throwing my gift to you in my swimming pool really the best course of action? I mean, it’s a low blow, don’t y-”

“Back up, what?”

“Your copy of The Shining. I found it in my pool this morning.” 

Steve handed me a soggy, waterlogged book, the edges curling up like it had just been through a hurricane. The familiar cover, the same one I had given to Barb the night before, was barely recognizable beneath the damage.

My fingers froze on the wet, warped pages. I stared at him, then back at the book, trying to make sense of what was happening. “What the hell, Steve?” I muttered, still in disbelief as I skimmed through the damp pages. My mind raced. Barb. That was the same damn book I’d handed her.

“Okay, judging by your reaction I am going to guess you did not put it there, which means you either lost it, which I get, you know, common mistake, or you gave it to someone, which I have to admit, hurts a little bi-”

“Steve shut up.”

“Okay,” Steve muttered, clearly thrown off by my reaction.

The hallway was nearly empty, the only sound being the faint hum of lockers creaking and students murmuring in the distance. It felt strangely quiet, like time had slowed for just a moment. I wasn’t sure if it was the empty space or just the gravity of the situation, but my stomach tightened.

“When did you find it?”

“This morning. Why, what’s wrong?” His eyes narrowed, and for once, he wasn’t smirking or trying to play it off. Something in his tone shifted- he seemed genuinely concerned now.

“I gave this to Barb,” I said, my voice quieter this time, more uncertain. I didn’t know why, but my stomach dropped even lower. Something didn’t sit right.

“Nancy’s friend Barb?” Steve asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Yes,” I answered, frustration creeping in. “Was she there when Nancy left this morning?” My voice came out almost in a whisper, like I was afraid of the answer.

“No, Nancy left last night. Alone. I just assumed she left a bit before.” 

“Only she didn’t leave. She was waiting for Nancy.”

“Wait, Nancy mentioned something. She called the Hollands this morning.”

“And?”

“I don’t think Barb went home last night.” Steve’s response felt like a punch to the gut. Barb never came home. I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. Something was off– way off– and now, it seemed like we were all tangled up in something bigger than either of us realized.

“(Y/n), is everything okay?”

“Steve, I think Barb’s missing.”

~

I raced home after school as soon as I could. I tried Holland’s place once more just for good measure. No luck. This meant that Barb really was missing, and just the thought made me shudder. How long after I left did she go missing? Was she in danger? Could I have stopped it if I had waited a little longer? Worse, Could it have been me? 

The only way I was getting any answers was if I went looking for it, and the only way for me to do that was to start by asking someone who may already have some.

I hesitated for a moment, then dialed Nancy’s number.

“Yeah, Is this the Wheeler’s? I’m looking for Nancy.”

“This is Nancy. Who am I speaking with?”

“Nancy, hey, this is (Y/n) from school,” I said, trying my best not to sound as awkward as I felt. How are you supposed to keep it together while talking to someone you’ve never talked to before? God. I was just happy this was happening over the phone.

“Oh! Hey, how can I help you?” she asked, trying her best to sound less confused.

“Yeah, listen,” I cleared my throat. “Have you heard from Barb lately? I– I’ve been trying to reach her, but no one seems to know where she is. I just... I’m really worried.”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“No, I haven’t.” Nancy’s voice grew more serious. “(Y/n), I think Barb’s missing. I’ve been trying to get some answers, but so far everything’s a dead end.”

I felt a wave of relief mixed with dread. At least I wasn’t the only one worried.

“Yeah, I was kind of hoping you’d know something I didn’t,” I said quietly. 

“Do you know anything? When was the last you heard from her?”

I debriefed her about the notes, the pool, and the book and caught her up until this morning, and to my horror, Nancy Wheeler, who I had had a full conversation with barely 2 times before today broke down crying over the phone. I was not trained for this. Oh God. 

“This was my fault. This was all my fault. I–”

“Nancy–  Nancy, breathe.”

“I mean, what was I thinking? I forced her to come, I just– I– Oh, god. I did this. I–”

I rushed to calm her down, my heart pounding. Nancy’s voice was cracking, like it was going to break any second, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she was feeling right now. But I had to try. Barb was missing. That was the real thing to focus on, not guilt. Because if both of us go down that rabbit hole, there was no coming out.

“Nancy, listen to me,” I said, trying to steady my own breathing. “It’s not your fault. You had a momentary lapse. It’s fine. It happens. We don’t know what really happened yet. We’re going to figure this out. We’ll find her. Okay? Breathe.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from her end, followed by a shaky sigh. She tried to compose herself, but it was clear how rattled she was.

“I just… I should’ve told her to stay home. I should’ve done something.” She sniffled, and it twisted something inside me hearing her so vulnerable.

“You can’t change what happened,” I said, my voice firm, even though I was feeling just as lost as she was. “But you can help find her now. That’s what matters.”

There was a moment of silence, and I could hear her trying to pull herself together.

“Right,” she finally said, her voice quieter now, but still full of that underlying resolve I’d come to recognize. “Right. We need to find Barb. That’s what matters.”

“Exactly.” I took a deep breath, mentally bracing myself. “Now, do you know anyone who might have seen her? Or... anything that could help?”

“I’m trying to put the pieces together,” Nancy said, her tone more controlled now, though it still held a hint of fear. “But I need someone to help me look into it. If you’re serious about this, I could use the extra set of eyes.”

“I’m in,” I said, without hesitation. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“I’m glad you called,” Nancy whispered. “I don’t know what to do without someone else to help me right now.”

“I’ve got your back,” I said, my voice steady, even though my insides were churning. “Let’s go get Barb home.”

There was a pause before Nancy spoke again, her voice determined now. “We will. We have to.”

~

I didn’t get much sleep after my call with Nancy. Between replaying her words and trying to piece together Barb’s last known whereabouts, my brain was in overdrive. By the time I got to school the next morning, I was running on nothing but adrenaline and bad coffee.

Nancy was waiting by her locker when I arrived, looking just as sleep-deprived as I felt. Her eyes were red, like she’d spent most of the night crying, but there was a new resolve in her expression.

“Hey,” she said quietly when she saw me.

“Hey,” I replied, matching her tone. “Any updates?”

She shook her head, biting her lip. “No. But I have an idea.”

I leaned against the locker next to hers, crossing my arms. “I’m listening.”

“Jonathan said Mrs Byers thinks a creature took Will. Something not human.”

“That’s… concerning.”

Nancy glanced around, lowering her voice. “Get this. Jonathan was taking pictures at Steve’s party that night.”

I frowned. “Jonathan? What was he doing at the party?”

“Unimportant. The point is, we have pictures,” she said, hoping I’d pick up on what she was implying. 

“Wait, that’s great, if Barb went missing the same way Will did, that might tell us something.”

“Exactly. As soon as we piece them together, we may actually have something.”

“Why are they in pieces?” I asked, confused.

“Fine, if you must know, Jonathan took some compromising pictures of me that may or may not have ended up in Steve’s hands which resulted in, well, these,” she said, pointing to the torn pictures, “and a broken camera.”

“... My God.”

Nancy’s words hung in the air like the aftermath of a storm, her cheeks faintly flushed with embarrassment. She fidgeted with the strap of her bag, avoiding my gaze for a moment before forcing herself to look up.

“I know how it sounds,” she added quickly, her voice edged with defensiveness, “but he wasn’t being a creep. Not really. He’s just— he was trying to figure out what happened to Will. He thought… I don’t know. Maybe the pictures could help.”

The weight of her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “You really think it’ll show that thing?”

“I think it’s the only real lead we’ve got.” Her voice was firm now, steady despite the emotion flickering in her red-rimmed eyes. “But I wanted to tell you first. Before we did anything with them.”

I crossed my arms, taking a deep breath. The logical part of me screamed this was messy, risky, and wrong. But the desperate part of me, the part that wanted answers just as much as she did, couldn’t ignore the possibility.

“Okay,” I said finally. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Nancy exhaled, relief softening her features for the briefest of moments before she handed me the torn photos. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I swear, we’ll make this right.”

And as I held the pieces in my hands, I realized we were both in way over our heads—but at least we weren’t alone.

[diazheartsbuckley]

Hiiii Maya 💕💕💕

For a fluffly prompt:

Early morning or late night sleepy cuddles

-❤️🪐

Hiii Saturn 🪐❤️

the warmth of your embrace (1.1K)

“Long day?” Eddie gently asks and Buck responds with a low hum as he squeezes Eddie’s hand. “Yeah but… but you’re here. And that helps a lot” Buck says with a small smile. OR Buck and Eddie share some sleepy late night cuddles

Read on AO3 💗

using this as my fuck it friday ✨

tagged by @tizniz, @spotsandsocks and @hippolotamus 💗

np tagging (lmk if you want to added or removed) 💗

@bidisasterevankinard, @wikiangela, @watchyourbuck, @exhuastedpigeon, @inell, @pirrusstuff, @underwaterninja13, @ronordmann, @fredmundo, @thekristen999, @honestlydarkprincess, @bucksbignaturals, @bucks-daddy-issues, @dangerpronebuddie, @kitteneddiediaz, @wildlife4life, @theotherbuckley, @elvensorceress, @jesuisici33, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @actualalligator, @rogerzsteven, @epicbuddieficrecs, @namjroon, @jeeyuns, @daffi-990, @giddyupbuck, @thewolvesof1998, @slightlyobsessedwitheverything, @rainbow-nerdss, @devirnis

[spencer-reids-adventures]

for @tobias-hankel!

cw: drug addiction

---

He doesn’t think anyone knows.

Last time, of course, they knew. They knew he’d just suffered a major trauma. They knew he kept arriving late to work and snapping at the team. They knew something was very, very wrong. And they never said anything to him about it, not really. Some vague words from Gideon. A few suspicious looks from Morgan. Utter befuddlement from poor Emily. But no one ever said a word, and so, neither did Spencer.

This time, he’s more careful. 

Once again, it’s not his fault, not really. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. It’s not his fault he wasn’t coherent enough after being shot to tell the EMTs not to give him narcotics. It’s not his fault he was unconscious when the rest of the decisions about his knee surgery were made. It’s not his fault he limped out of the hospital on crutches with a bottle of Percocet, and it’s not his fault he took it, or that he took it upon himself to increase the dose. Small increments, a few days at a time. He’s a doctor. It’s fine.

It’s not his fault his team was too busy focusing on Hotch to notice any of it.

It’s not his fault that when the Percocet runs out, he manages to make his way to a crummy neighborhood in the middle of the night to pay an embarrassing amount of money for a moderate quantity of Dilaudid, and it’s definitely not his fault that the relief is so powerful, it actually makes him cry.

No, it’s not his fault, he assures himself. But it’s still a problem. It’s still a secret. It’s still scary and shameful, and Spencer is weak and broken, and he can’t let any of his teammates find out what’s happening.

He tries to be careful. It’s easy at first, because he’s on leave from work. Once he gets back, he does his best to look normal, to arrive on time, to be kind to his coworkers. He tries his best, and it’s so hard, and he truly doesn’t know if he’s succeeding. He’s not sure of much, at this point. He’s just trying to get through each day the best he can, to manage the pain in a way that’s familiar for him. 

Hotch returns to work not long after Spencer, and from the look on his face, he can tell something is wrong. He doesn’t say anything, though. He never says anything. Spencer tries to brush it off, pretends it doesn’t bother him, pretends he’s not desperate to just talk about it with someone. 

He tries, and he tries, and he tries.

And then one evening, the phone rings.

The call shows up as Unknown Caller, but Spencer answers it anyway, expecting someone trying to scam him or sell him something.

“Just listen,” the voice says on the other end. “You don’t have to say anything right now.”

And Spencer couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to, because it’s Gideon’s voice on the other end of the line, a voice he hasn’t heard in years, though he hears it in his memories and his dreams more often than he’d like to admit. 

He waits, speechless, for Gideon to continue.

“Hotch called me. We talk sometimes, you know. He keeps me up to date on what’s going on. And he told me that something’s going on with you. He’s really worried about you.”

Spencer swallows. Why would Hotch reach out to Gideon instead of just talking to Spencer himself?

What would Spencer have even said if Hotch had tried to talk to him?

“I’m assuming it’s the same problem you had last time, when you missed that plane, though Hotch couldn’t confirm anything. Maybe it’s not that. Maybe you’re just struggling emotionally, or maybe it’s something else I don’t even know about. No matter what it is, Reid, I want to help you. I want to be here for you in a way that I haven’t before.”

Spencer rubs his face with his hand. It doesn’t make sense, none of this makes sense. Gideon left. He left, and he’s gone, and Spencer made peace with that a long time ago. And now—now he doesn’t know what to do at all. Now, nothing makes sense. Nothing at all.

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking, Spencer?”

Spencer sighs. Pulls at his hair. Wrings his hands out a few times, and switches his phone from one ear to the other. 

“I messed up,” he finally whispers. “I missed another plane.”

“We can fix this,” Gideon says immediately. “Are you home? Are you safe? Can I come to you?”

“C-come to me?” Spencer repeats incredulously. 

“We obviously don’t want you detoxing on your own,” Gideon says matter-of-factly. “I’ll come help you.”

“Detoxing…”

“You know you can’t keep going like this. Something needs to change. I’m not going to let you kill yourself with this stuff.”

Spencer is quiet for a long time.

“I’m… at home,” he finally whispers.

“Stay there,” says Gideon. “I’m coming to you, okay? It’s going to take me a little while, but just—don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t,” Spencer promises. 

When Gideon shows up 30 minutes later, a needle and a vial are sitting on the coffee table, but Spencer hasn’t moved.

[polkadotsunshine]

It lives up to the hype

An inverted review of I Saw the TV Glow

In 2015, a few days before Christmas break, my friend Heather told me that Undertale, "lives up to the hype." We were on The Bridge in our highschool - a connector between the building with all the classrooms and the building with the cafeteria, gym, and music rooms. The Bridge doubled as the senior lounge; only juniors and seniors were supposed to sit at the tables lining its edges. I thought that rule was stupid. Unfortunately, it didn't really matter what I thought about the rule anymore, since I was already a senior.

I had seen the Steam store page for Undertale but I didn't really know anything about it. I pretended like I knew things about it because I wanted to be someone who knew things about it. She told me that I should play it.

I didn't really know how to act around Heather. I didn't not have a crush on her, but I couldn't sort out my feelings. A year before, an upperclassman dared me to confess my love to her. It was clear to everyone that I was weird around Heather. For reasons irrelevant, completing the dare would earn me cash that I desperately needed and failing to undertake it would result in a loss of extra credit for a class I was in. Confronted with the actual possibility of dating someone, I was too terrified to take the dare.

Nearly a decade later, my mom mentioned Heather in passing, briefly talking about the massive crush she had on our mutual friend Justin, to make some other unrelated point. I felt surprised and stupid that I never noticed her crush in highschool. To be honest, back on The Bridge in 2015, I don't remember if Heather was talking to me. It feels more likely that she was talking to Justin or some other friend sitting nearby and I experienced the conversation through proxy.

I downloaded Undertale to my laptop before I traveled to my grandma's house for Christmas. By saying the game, "lives up to the hype," Heather had communicated two things. First, the game had considerable critical acclaim and popular appeal. Second, the game spoke for itself better than any analysis could. The indirectness of her praise made it feel more true, in the same way you know a movie spoiler is more true if you overhear it between two friends than if someone obnoxiously tells you, "Guess what? He dies in the end!"

In the winter of 2015 I was working on a game of my own. It was a tactics game where each class of units had a unique combat minigame because I found automatic battles boring at the time. When I got to the second combat encounter in Undertale, when I realized each enemy had a unique combat minigame, my mind exploded straight out of my skull. Undertale actualized the goal for my game far better than I ever could, even if I could pull perfect imagination out of my brain and into a computer. Just a few days later, I would beat Undertale, tears streaming down my face.

I loved going to my grandma's for Christmas. I got heaps of presents from 11 extended family members in addition to my normal gifts. I would play with them and my Dad's childhood toys while exploring my grandma's beautifully huge house. My cousins James and Emma, only a couple years older than me and my brother Jayson, would spend the whole time with us. We got to play on their GameCube and, once it came out, their Xbox 360. Jayson and I were usually only allowed to play video games on weekends and for only two hours per week; but at my grandma's, we were allowed to play as much as we wanted. It was the best time of the year. It was a time when things were different.

Unfortunately, in 2015, I didn't like going to my grandma's anymore. James, Emma, and Jayson had all gone to college. I felt like a kid, still playing video games. Our separate table for dinner - the kids table - no longer existed. All 18 of us, long term girlfriends and stay-in doctors included, sat around the same table eating the same food. I didn't like traditional Chinese food, but my mom's insistence that I should be cooked a special meal made me feel worse. I couldn't keep up with everyone's clever jokes and serious questions. I was angry, confused, and I acted out. My family was frustrated with me. So was I. I went back to playing video games, alone.

I used to wake up before sunrise and run around the whole house waiting for James and Emma to wake up. In 2015, I woke up late and I stayed in later. I hid under my blanket and read webcomics on my iPod. I had just started reading some sci-fi comic that had good reviews on Reddit. At the end of the first chapter, the main character peeps through a door crack and watches his sister have sex with another woman. It felt wrong. I must be such a sick pervert to enjoy reading about lesbians. I felt like the brother, watching from the outside. I must be a sick pervert because sometimes I wished that-

I locked myself in the bathroom and didn't talk to anyone.

At the start of Undertale, it prompts you to enter your name. For the first time in my life, I wrote Maya. Each time I died, the game would ask me, plead me, command me to never give up. It would call me Maya and I would try again. I clawed my way to the end of that game and it promised, "Despite everything, it's still you." At the end of the true pacifist route, I walked backwards then forwards through every room in the game and interacted with everything one last time. I beat Undertale, tears streaming down my face.

The next morning was Christmas day. Jayson noticed I had a new iPod background set to a screenshot of Flowey. He expressed surprise that I had done such a thing so soon after beating the game. If it were anything else, I would have defensively walked back my decision, gone silent, and coldly left the room. That same trip, I had reacted this way when Jayson asked about the Vocaloid wallpaper on my laptop. But with Undertale, I was confident. It had lived up to the hype. I knew it was great. I told Jayson, "It's that good."

On Friday, October 11 2024, I found myself saying, "I Saw the TV Glow lives up to the hype." I have sparingly used this phrase over the years to convey my ultimate love for something. I hope that it will spark the same curiosity and confidence that Heather gave me when I played Undertale. Only now, I realize how fitting it is to use this story to describe that film.

Undertale was my Pink Opaques. When real life was a string of shameful dissociated events, I lived through my so-called immature interests in video games and comics. I desperately latched onto anything that was different than my terrible life. Before I became myself, I couldn't imagine being in a relationship because it felt like my heart had been cut out of me. I was dying. Undertale showed me I could be loved and powerful. It showed me that Maya was still me. I Saw the TV Glow parallels these events, understanding me like nothing and no one ever has.

When I finished film, heart palpitations overwhelmed me for an hour. I couldn't speak. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop imagining my life if I had been more like Owen. I heaved deep gulps of air to remind myself what I'd done. I was alive. Twelve hours later I couldn't sleep, so I switched on the lights and began reading Tumblr tags for the movie.

I expected devastated sobs of scattered thoughts, like my own. Instead, I saw reviews from writers who had ample time to sort their feelings. Every post was hopeful. They repeated words I had initially glazed over: "It's never too late." I've never really related to trans stories or experiences until now, but this film has connected me to an entire community of people like me.

The film had asked me, pleaded me, commanded me to never give up. Its passion will live with me, haunting me and empowering me until the day I die. I Saw the TV Glow lives up to the hype.

[lesbian-disaster-tm]

APPARANTLY IT'S INTERNATIONAL LESBIAN DAY AND HOW TF DID I NOT KNOW THIS!?!?!?

Didn't have the time to prepare anything I'm afraid since I learned this so last minute but! Here's a link to one of my sapphic one shot fanfictions!

[florenceafternoon]

"I liked sleeping separately since I could cry myself to sleep"

and what if I write jily angst

[matt-murdockk]

Statistically Speaking

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

words: 600 words

summary: Spencer thought he was in a long-term relationship— turns out, he forgot to tell her.

warnings: none, babe. this is pure fluff <3

“Come on, man,” Derek said, arms folded as he stared Spencer down across the break room table. “You can’t just read a thousand relationship books and think that’s the same as the real thing.”

Spencer looked up from the folder in his lap, utterly unbothered. “Thirty-nine books. And they’re peer-reviewed studies. It’s not about anecdotes, it’s about data.”

Penelope leaned over her coffee, eyes sparkling. “Oh boy. He’s going full empirical. This should be good.”

“It’s not that I think I understand relationships,” Spencer continued, adjusting his glasses. “It’s just that I recognize functional dynamics when I see them. And I happen to know what one looks like.”

Derek snorted. “Yeah? Like what, The Notebook?”

“No,” Spencer said. “Like me and Y/N.”

There was a beat of silence.

Y/N, seated two chairs down with a half-drunk coffee in her hand, turned very slowly. “I’m sorry, what now?”

Spencer blinked at her like she’d asked if water was wet. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘you and me’?”

He frowned, confused. “I mean us. Our dynamic. It’s a prime example of a healthy relationship.”

Garcia dropped her muffin.

Derek leaned in like he was about to watch a car crash in slow motion. “Go on.”

Spencer tilted his head at Y/N. “You seriously didn’t know?”

She blinked. “Know what exactly?”

“That we’re in a relationship. Or— at least something adjacent to one. I assumed we were both aware of that.”

Y/N stared at him.

Spencer, sensing the disbelief, leaned back in his chair and began to list things off like he was briefing a case. “We text every night before bed. You bring me coffee the way I like it— three sugars, not stirred— almost every day, without asking. I’ve picked you up from the airport twice. You’ve stayed over at my apartment more than once, and you steal my hoodies.”

“That’s just…” She trailed off, looking helplessly at Garcia, who was frozen mid-bite.

Spencer wasn’t done.

“We hold hands when we walk across busy streets. You braid my hair when I’m stressed. I read you poetry once and you cried, which I took as a positive emotional response and not distress.”

Y/N slowly set her coffee down. “Okay.”

“I’ve memorized your Chipotle order,” Spencer added, like that sealed it.

“Okay.”

Spencer leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “We literally hold hands all the time.”

“…Okay, yeah, I see where I went wrong.”

Derek lost it.

Garcia was fanning herself with a napkin, whispering “my stars” under her breath.

Y/N looked like she was debating the moral and logistical weight of throwing herself into the nearest garbage can.

Spencer, meanwhile, just looked vaguely betrayed. “How did you not know?”

She gave him a look. “Because you never said it out loud?”

“I thought it was implied!”

Derek clapped once, loud. “Oh, I live for this.”

Garcia blinked. “Cool, so I’ve been third-wheeling a relationship that wasn’t even technically happening. Love that for me.”

Y/N turned back to Spencer, who was still trying to solve the mystery of how she missed this.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

“No,” he said, after a beat. “Just… surprised. I really thought we were on the same page.”

“Well.” She exhaled, slow and a little amused. “We are now.”

Spencer tilted his head. “Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

Y/N shrugged. “Statistically speaking?”

That got the smallest smile out of him.

“I’ll take it,” he said.

a/n: first spencer fic can i get a whoop whoop (i hope this is good, oh god)

[lucidfairies]

out tonight or tomorrow, comment to be tagged ;) SHE'S OUT

[polkadotsunshine]

this rules! i've always wanted subway stuff in my house.

When I was learning about perimeter and area in school, we had a project to sketch the floor plan of our dream house and calculate various properties about it. I made my dream house as extravagantly huge as I could imagine. I drew up a giant bedroom to house all my stuffed animals. The living room was big enough to fit a 60 inch plasma TV. There was a play room dedicated to all my toys. I had both a shower and a bathtub in the bathroom.

The whole house ended up being less than 2000 square feet.

My teachers expected something bigger. The mathy part of the assignment didn't work with so few rooms and such small numbers, so I went back to the drawing board. I gave myself a home office like my Dad's, I added bedrooms my friends could stay in, and I made each room larger.

It still wasn't enough.

I grew up in a big house in a neighborhood with somehow bigger homes, so I knew that my dream was small compared to the rest of suburban America. However, because the assignment was to make a place I wanted to live in, I only included things I wanted. A number of students in the class had the same problem.

Our teachers encouraged us to base our designs off of mansions from MTV. We should have an indoor pool or a private bowling alley. I supposed that it would be more convenient to have my own bowling alley rather than drive 45 minutes to the nearest place; in that moment, I took a big step towards believing the American dream. I completed the assignment by taking random places I could think of and stapling them to the side of my house. My favorite restaurant at the time was Subway, so I put one right next to my bedroom. I went to my teachers to hand it in.

It still wasn't enough.

Our teachers expected numbers magnitudes larger than anything anyone in the class was making. All of us ended up including an indoor ski slope, even though only one person in the class liked skiing, because it was an easy way to add a massive rectangle to the layout. Along with all the other nonsense I slapped onto my graph paper, I added a second Subway right next to my kitchen. For good measure.

This time, the teachers accepted it.

I haven't stopped thinking about putting 2 Subways in my house.

For reasons only kind-of related to money, I've always had a hard time getting myself to buy food. I fear that if I mismanage my money, I'll mess up and inevitably die. Any time I buy food, I think of how many days it will keep me alive per dollar. Any time I buy anything else, I think of how much food it's worth. I will jump at any opportunity for free or cheap food regardless of the quality, regardless of how it makes me feel, and—truthfully—regardless of the actual efficiency. I force myself to eat rotten food.

I know that I am not at risk of starving or becoming homeless; I make a big tech salary now. Yet, I think about it nonstop. Paradoxically, this fear of waste makes me eat 1 or less meals a day so I can "save" more. I have been unwinding this mindset for years now, but it takes time. The best way I’ve healed is by setting aside a food allowance and preventing it from stockpiling too much.

I clung to the idea of having 2 subways in my home because it represented stability in food and housing.

When I drew it in class, it was as silly as everything else, but people still went out of the way to ask me how it worked. Was it a regular part of the franchise that reported back to HQ? Did I hire staff to run the shop? I don’t fucking know dude; I just needed to pump up the area of the building. But maybe, what I really needed was a guarantee that every day I could eat food. A guarantee that it would be good food. I needed something to ease the weight of surviving.

Even as a kid I sort-of understood that these mansions were isolating themselves by personally owning what were usually public spaces. Yet, I couldn’t discern the subtle difference between a personal bowling alley and a personal Subway. The frog had been boiled; I was already used to kitchens personalizing cooking. The American dream strips us of our community, but seeing you take free furniture from Subway feels pretty damn good.

Particularly, seeing these Subway paintings in your home brings me immeasurable joy. Every time I set foot in a Subway I think about stealing those. Sure, it’s funny, but they represent a comfort I’ve been struggling so long to achieve. Your life isn’t a joke; having furnishings by any means is a fantastic victory.

It is with great pleasure for me to announce, to no one in particular, that yesterday I moved into a house. The kind with a mortgage and everything. Its square footage is smaller than my first sketch, but it’s all I need. And wouldn’t you know. There’s a Subway across the street.

my favorite work memory from this store will always be “hey remember when the subway inside the store closed down and they let me take a bunch of their shit for free and now it lives inside my house?”

my life is a joke

[you-aint-gotta-pray-for-me]

Hell on Earth: Chapter 1

words: 2.7k

pairing: Steve Harrington x ex-friend!Henderson!reader (eventually romantic- could be called a slow burn I guess, but they're not together right now, there's some bad blood, just read it man I suck at summarizing T_T)

summary: Things do not seem normal in simple, down-to-earth town Hawkins, Indiana. With Will Byers missing, tensions rise while the mystery claims another victim.

timeline: set in season one right after Will goes missing

warnings: language, bending of canon, fic from reader's pov (3rd person will be there as well, will warn before a pov change if there is one)

a/n: hey guys! so, I see you have found the first part of Hell on Earth :) This is a Steve x reader, yes, I promise we will get there and it'll be awesome when we do, but as much as it is a reader insert Steve slash fic, this is also an actual Stranger Things spin-off story that I'm writing, meaning there will be a lot of focus on the actual plot along with steve and reader's relationship. Also yes, reader is Dustin's older sister.

Reader POV

Will Byers was the kind of kid you wouldn't know was missing until you looked for him. He didn't bother anybody, just kept to himself and his little group doing whatever it is kids these days do, you know? He was a simple, soft-spoken kid, the last person you would wish danger upon. So when I heard that he'd gone missing, I was as confused as I was worried.

"And he was with you when you cycled back home?"

"Yes, Jesus Christ (Y/n), for the millionth time. Yes."

"Don't get annoyed you little shit, I'm trying to help you here."

"Oh, excuse me for getting worried because my best friend is freaking missing."

"Dustin! Don't talk to your sister like that!" I heard Mom scream at us from the living room, oblivious to any context. I mean, he was right to get annoyed with me. His exasperated look at Mom's comment told me he thought the same thing. I just shook my head in understanding. What more can I do?

"Listen, I know you want to go looking for him, I would too, but you can't go on your own. I need you to promise me you won't go on your own, okay? Wait after school, and we'll go together."

"You get off school like two hours after I do, what am I supposed to do, sit and scream his name from my room and hope he shows up? Come on, man. That's bullsh-"

"Dustin."

"What?"

I stared at him, hoping my disapproving-but-concerned-older-sister look told him what he needed to hear. It did.

"Fine. 2 hours. A minute late and I'm going off on my own."

"Deal," I said, knowing full well that I'd have to ditch Algebra II. I wasn't complaining, though. Staring at a newly painted wall and waiting for it to dry would be more interesting than Algebra II.

Later that day

I had exactly 5 minutes to bolt before Algebra II started. I went to my locker and hurriedly rammed all my shit inside when I noticed my locker neighbor Barbara coming towards hers. We'd make conversation when we're at our lockers and smile and wave when we saw each other in the hallway. Outside of that, I didn't really know her all too well.

"Algebra II?"

"Nah, I'm ditching. I promised my brother I'd help him with some stuff."

"Lucky," she sighed. "I can't believe I need to sit through Mr Treeger's bullshit for 2 hours."

"You are welcome to join me if you'd like," I offered with a grin. "Algebra II can be soul-sucking."

"Thank you, really, but I can't leave Nancy hanging. Besides, we've got this thing later as well and, yeah, it's a whole thing, don't bother," she explained.

"Suit yourself, Barb." I shut my locker and almost left before I heard her voice again.

"I mean, if you need notes or anything, I could- uh- I could take them for you? If you want?" she said, almost like she wasn't sure I would take her up on her offer.

"I would love that, actually. Where do you live?"

"Uh, I think I’ll be at Steve’s party later. At the Harrington's. You know the place?" She shifted her books like they suddenly weighed too much. Her expression said she wasn't entirely looking forward to this.

Hearing Steve's name threw me slightly on edge. When you grow up with somebody and you fall out with them, you don't exactly forget things about them. I practically spent half my life at his house. I practically spent half my life with him. So, yes. I definitely knew the place.

"Y-yeah. I do"

"Great, I'll have it ready, then."

"Barb, you are literally an angel." I hurriedly gave her an impromptu hug and rushed outside to get to my car, where I saw Jonathan Byers handing out missing posters. His shoulders sagged under the weight of the stack in his hands and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. I can only imagine what he and Mrs Byers were going through.

I hesitated for a second before walking up to him. I knew Jonathan from Dustin hanging out with Will. We weren't close friends or anything, but someone had to say something. His hands trembled slightly as he stapled one of the posters onto the community board near the lot, his eyes darting nervously like he was waiting for Will to suddenly appear and tell him it was all a joke.

"Hey, Jonathan."

He flinched at my voice, turning to me with an exhausted half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Hey," he mumbled.

I nodded at the posters in his hands. "Any updates? Are the cops, like… actually doing anything?"

"They found his cycle a few minutes from Mirkwood. So that's... yeah. That's it, I guess?"

"What are they thinking?"

He hesitated, glancing down at the posters like he thought they might hold some kind of answer. "They think he might’ve run away, but that’s not Will. He wouldn’t just… leave."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I don’t buy that either. Will’s not the type to just take off. He’s… dependable, you know?"

Jonathan looked at me for a moment, his expression softening just a little. "Thanks."

I shrugged, kicking at a loose rock on the ground. "For what? Telling the truth?"

"For… caring, I guess," he said, turning back to his work.

I watched him for a second longer, the weight of the whole situation sinking in deeper. "Let me know if you need help. With the posters or anything else."

Jonathan nodded, his focus back on the board. "Thanks," he said again, so quiet I almost missed it.

I didn’t know what else to say, so I just turned and walked back to my car, leaving him to keep stapling the same plea for help over and over.

I drove back home and Dustin was practically at the edge of his seat, looking like he was at the verge of explosion.

"What the hell took you so long?"

"Jesus Christ, I'm right on time. Give me a break."

He continued to yell at me about how time is of the essence. I held up a hand to calm him down. "Relax, I’m here now, aren’t I? Anyway, listen. They found some stuff near Mirkwood."

That got his attention. His eyes widened, his mouth snapping shut mid-rant. "What kind of stuff?"

I sat down across from him, leaning forward so Mom couldn’t overhear from the kitchen. "They found his bike. Just abandoned on the side of the road. No tracks, no clues, nothing else. It’s like he just… vanished."

Dustin’s face fell, his usual confident bravado cracking under the weight of what I’d just told him. "His bike?" he echoed, voice smaller now.

"Yeah. Cops are calling it ‘strange circumstances.’ I’m calling it suspicious as hell."

He nodded, jaw tightening as his brain started working overtime. "Okay. Okay, so that means he didn’t run away. Someone- or something- took him."

I flinched a little at how easily he jumped to "something." This was Hawkins. Strange wasn’t on the table.

"Dustin, don’t get carried away. Let’s stick to facts. We know where his bike was, and that’s it. But you promised me you wouldn’t do anything stupid, remember?"

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. "Fine. But we need to check it out. Together."

I sighed, knowing there was no talking him out of it. "Together. No sneaking off without me, got it?"

"Got it," he said, though I could tell from his tone he was already planning something.

A couple hours later

"So that was fucking useless."

"Dustin, come on. Don't be like that."

"We found nothing, (Y/n)! He's out there, probably being tortured for all we know, and we found literally nothing."

"Don't jump to conclusions. Yes, we don't know anything now. But we are not the only people looking. Okay?"

"I'm telling you. We should look for him right around when he went missing."

"No way I'm letting you go out there at 10 pm unsupervised. Mom would gut me."

"I won't be unsupervised if you're with me."

"Dustin," I sighed, slightly annoyed at how he wouldn't level with me at all. "Whatever happened to Will could be bigger than us. If it's something we can't handle, I don't want us to go all in with literally no information."

"Oh, come on! but-"

"No buts. Sit this one out. I am begging you. At least until we know something."

Even though he begrudgingly agreed, his words stuck with me. I hated the idea of him sneaking off on his own, but I also couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right. If there were answers out there, they wouldn’t come to us- we had to go to them. And if I knew Dustin at all, I knew exactly what that meant. He’d go anyway.

The only way for me to deal with this was to either find something before he did or supervise, just in case. And both those options required me to be out in the woods in the dead of the night. Perfect. I remembered that I had to stop by to see Barb so it won't all be for nothing.

The glow of streetlights flickered against the windshield as I pulled up to the Harringtons' house. The faint hum of music and muffled laughter carried through the warm night air, the telltale signs of a Steve Harrington classic. For a moment, I hesitated, fingers gripping the steering wheel. It had been a while since I’d set foot here, and it felt strange- nostalgic in a way that made my chest tight. I didn't like it.

I stepped out of the car and walked around the side of the house, avoiding the main door. I wasn’t here for the party, and I definitely wasn’t in the mood to exchange awkward hellos with people who probably didn’t even remember my name. Also, I might punch Tommy and Carol just because.

The backyard was bathed in the eerie blue glow of the pool lights. It was quieter here, the party sounds muffled by the distance. Sitting by the pool, her legs dangling lazily in the water, was Barb. She was hunched over slightly, fiddling with the strap of her watch, looking as out of place as I felt.

"Hey," I called softly, not wanting to startle her.

She looked up, her face lighting up with a small, relieved smile. "Oh, hey! You made it."

"Yeah," I said, walking over and sitting beside her on the cool concrete. "Figured I’d pick up those notes before your night gets too crazy," I said before I noticed her poorly bandaged hand bloody hand.

"Holy shit, you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's... nothing. I'm okay."

"Partied too hard?"

Barb scoffed, glancing over her shoulder at the house. "Yeah, not exactly my scene. Nancy’s inside with Steve. I’m just... taking a break."

I nodded, leaning back on my palms and staring at the pool. Nancy's inside with Steve. That didn't bother me at all. "Can’t say I blame you. These things get out of hand quickly," I said, slightly regretting my hand pun.

She laughed at my poorly timed joke and reached into her bag to pull out a neatly folded piece of paper. "Here you go. Sorry if it’s a little messy. Mr. Treeger was really on one today."

I took the notes with a grateful smile. "You’re the best, Barb. Seriously."

She waved it off like it was no big deal. "It’s nothing. So, what are you up to?"

I reached into my bag and pulled out a worn paperback with a cracked spine and dog-eared pages. "Actually, I thought you might need this more than I do right now," I said, handing Barb my copy of The Shining.

Her eyes lit up as she took it, carefully running her fingers over the cover. "No way. I’ve been wanting to read this forever."

"Well, now you’ve got no excuse. It’s a classic. Just don’t read it alone at night unless you want to start hearing creepy voices in your house."

Barb laughed, flipping through the pages. "Thanks, (Y/n). This is awesome. I’ll take good care of it, promise." She looked up at me, her expression softening. "This one your favorite? "

"It's my comfort book, honestly"

"The Shining is your comfort book?".

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it. Besides, no matter how bad my day is going, everyone in that book is having a much worse, more horrible day."

She laughed and looked at me with a smile extending far beyond her eyes. "But seriously, why do you always have the best recommendations? Like, do you just spend all your time reading?"

"I wouldn’t say all my time," I joked, leaning back and shrugging. "But books don’t talk back or ditch you for better plans. So they’ve got that going for them."

Barb chuckled, but her smile faltered slightly, and she hesitated before asking, "Speaking of people ditching... can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to."

I glanced at her, curious. "Shoot."

"What happened with you and Steve? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking. You two seemed really close back then"

I froze for a moment, caught off guard by the question. It wasn’t exactly something I loved to think about, let alone talk about. Barb’s expression wasn’t nosy or judgmental- just genuinely curious. I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to say anything. But Barb was easy to talk to, and I felt like I could trust her.

"It’s... complicated," I said, exhaling sharply. "Before his, you know, 'coronation', King Steve and I were best friends. We practically grew up together. You stick with someone throughout middle school and still want to hang out? That's true friendship, right there."

She nodded like she related to what I was saying. "High School came and he changed. He wanted to hang out less, which was fine with me, you know? People change and everything," I paused for a second.

"It got bad only after Tommy and Carol started hanging out with him. He became this mean jerk, this person I could barely recognize. And I never got along with Tommy or Carol from the beginning, he knew that from the million times I have told him that I hate their guts. Hell, I've directly said it to Tommy and Carol. I just... I guess you could say we both grew up and became distant or whatever, but the fact is, he's just a colossal asshole now.

Barb frowned, clutching the book tighter. "That sucks. I’m sorry."

I shrugged, trying to play it off. "It’s whatever. We’re not kids anymore, and I guess we just outgrew each other. Besides, I’m not exactly missing out on this." I gestured toward the house, where someone let out an ear-piercing whoop, followed by the unmistakable sound of something breaking.

Barb laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, I don’t think either of us belong here."

"Hey, misery loves company, right?" I teased, bumping her shoulder lightly.

She smiled, a little more at ease now, and held up the book. "Thanks for this. I mean it."

"Don’t mention it," I said, standing up and brushing off my jeans. "Enjoy the book- and maybe steer clear of the creepy twins in the hallway."

Barb laughed again as I started to head back to my car.

"You sure you don't need a lift? Your house isn't too far, I don't mind."

"Really, it's ok, (Y/n). I'll just go whenever Nancy leaves."

"It's almost midnight, Barb, you sure?"

"I am. I really am."

[diazheartsbuckley]

Several Sentence Sunday 💗

So I worked a little bit on the insomnia fic yesterday for Tanis’ birthday and thought I’d share some of it with you guys 🩵

Small beads of sweat forms on Eddie’s forehead and he takes a few staggering steps to the nearest bench, dropping down with a heavy thud. He puts his head between his legs, almost feeling nauseous and he runs his hands through his hair. The bitter taste of bile forms in his mouth but he swallows it down as a family of five walks by, looking at him with concern. He sits up, leaning against the back of the bench and watches Buck with Chris, seeing how he holds him up above the crowd to make sure that he gets the best possible view of the elephants. They’re both laughing and Eddie feels a sense of peace as he keeps his eye on them, taking a few deep breaths to fill his lungs with air.

It burns like a fire deep down in his stomach, because if he can’t even go into a crowd of people anymore, how can he go into a building and do his job right? Maybe he should quit? Even the thought of it leaves a lasting impact on his mind and when Chris and Buck approach him, he gets up from his secure position on the bench and swoops Chris into his arms, giving him a firm hug. “You’re being weird” Chris chuckles and Eddie nods a little but doesn’t let him down - he just holds his son close for a moment and closes his eyes.

When Eddie puts Chris down, he smiles a little and fixes his glasses, seeing the mirror image of Shannon looking back at him with that worried, soft look on his face. “Dad, are you okay?” Chris asks and Eddie swallows harshly, dropping his eyes to the ground. He’s about to answer the question when he feels Buck’s firm hand on his shoulder and he lets out a gentle sigh, glancing back at Buck with a small smile.

“Yeah, uh… I was just feeling a little bit sick but I’m feeling better now” Eddie explains and he realizes that Buck’s hand never leaves his shoulder, instead he feels the warmth of his thumb tracing small circles.

Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie @tizniz @hippolotamus and @inell, thank you my loves 💗

Tagging

@watchyourbuck, @jeeyuns, @exhuastedpigeon, @spotsandsocks, @kitteneddiediaz, @bidisasterevankinard, @honestlydarkprincess, @princessfbi, @giddyupbuck, @theotherbuckley, @daffi-990, @thewolvesof1998, @wildlife4life, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @underwaterninja13, @bucks-daddy-issues, @bucksbignaturals, @wikiangela, @loveyouanyway, @rainbow-nerdss, @ronordmann, @elvensorceress, @bucksbirthmark, @eddiestummy, @extasiswings, @actualalligator, @maygrantgf, @pirrusstuff, @monsterrae1 @jesuisici33 💗 (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[spencer-reids-adventures]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Criminal Minds (US TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Diana Reid & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia & Spencer Reid Characters: Spencer Reid, Diana Reid, William Reid, Jason Gideon, Derek Morgan (Criminal Minds), Penelope Garcia Additional Tags: Abandonment, Loneliness, Letters, Family Issues, Mental Health Issues, Autistic Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Whump, Sad Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Financial Issues, Episode: s02e01 The Fisher King Part 2 (Criminal Minds), Self-Harm, Food Issues, implied/referenced eating disorder Summary:

Diana doesn’t forgive Spencer for having her institutionalized… at least, not right away.

 Written for @tobias-hankel’s Criminal Minds Pre-Whumptober Challenge!

Main Whump-ed Character: Spencer Reid Bad Thing: Abandonment/Loneliness Bad Person: Parent/Family Member One Line Prompt: "You know, I write her a letter every day... She has never written one back."

[polkadotsunshine]

how i pirate music

i'm seeing old posts hating on spotify circulating again, so i'll describe how i listen to music without paying for streaming

discovery through cracked spotify

i discover a lot of music through cracked versions of spotify. i'm in a number of circles that do music shares and i stream recommendations a few times before i decide to download anything

windows

i use the spot x modified client on my desktop: https://github.com/amd64fox/SpotX/. be sure to cancel your spotify subscription and remove your payment information before logging into any cracked version of spotify

android

these websites come and go, but you should be able to look up "spotify apk" and find a one button installation. you can get an up-to-date safe link by visiting the database in this reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/ApksApps/comments/pcy1io/apksapps_official_megathread_apksme/

mac

i don't want to put anything weird on my work computer, which uses mac os, but if i control the music through my phone, then select my mac as the audio output device via spotify, i can listen ad free. here's the feature if you've not used it before: https://support.spotify.com/us/article/spotify-connect/

downloading music

file share

i download almost everything with soulseek, a p2p file sharing program: http://www.soulseekqt.net/. first you'll make a directory of music that you already have (say, from bandcamp) and soulseek will broadcast that to the world. you can then search other people's files for music you want and download it there

torrenting

i use the torrent client deluge: https://deluge-torrent.org/ and get my links from https://www.1377x.to/. you should use a vpn when torrenting; i happen to use surfshark because it's cheap. it is not perfect and if you want to torrent stuff there's better guides out there explaining how to do it safely

paying, but sticking it to the man

i buy more music now than i ever did when paying for streaming. i personally just use bandcamp, but i know people who use/rip CDs and other physical media. it's nice to support small artists and to upload big artists onto soulseek so other people can find it

audio quality

downloaded music is likely going to be higher quality than streamed music. if you don't know anything about audio quality i'd recommend downloading 320kps mp3 files. you can add a minbitrate filter at the bottom of your soulseek window. you've probably heard of FLAC before, but if you want to see how deep it goes, look up DSD or SACD

listening to downloaded music

windows

i use foobar2000: https://www.foobar2000.org/. it's designed to be modular and customizable, so it takes a little fiddling to get running. to start using it, i recommend: making a playlist and adding a file location of all your music (which should be your soulseek up and down directories). you can later make playlists of specific albums and tracks. then, look online for components like a theme or last.fm scrobbles if you want that kind of thing. last.fm scrobbles can be a great way to discover new music

android

foobar2000 recently released a mobile version but i haven't tried that yet. i use vinyl music player for no reason in particular: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.poupa.vinylmusicplayer

final notes

this isn't about doing music better; i just happen to like doing things this way. i still hang out and listen to my friends' cytube on loop. i blast nightcore on youtube. the goal is to listen to music and have a good time so do whatever is best for you

[lesbian-disaster-tm]

Chat if this gets say idk 350(?) notes I'll make myself write and post 5 sapphic one shots (various fandoms)