#me thirty seconds late: never mind they are AMAZING

[egophiliac]

oh no, I love them

(super quick doodles done between other stuff, there will be better things later I promise :')

[chvoswxtch]

I have a request for you: I'm at the bar with friends but have been sneaking glances at Matt playing pool all night. Friends are like quit staring at his ass and go talk to him. But I'm like no, guys that hot aren't interested in shy, curvy girls. Then to my surprise, Matt comes over and starts flirting. Wouldn't mind it getting spicy. Fic if the muses are with you. She/her pronouns are fine. Thank you for your time.

hi darling!

i'm sorry for getting this to you so late, but I hope you enjoy it 🖤

generous.

warnings: swearing, drinking, allusions to spicyness, matt murdock's ass word count: 1.4k

“Oh come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Are you really asking me, a chronic overthinker, what’s the worst thing that could happen? Because I could give you ten worst case scenarios right now just off the top of my head.”

“So what, you’re just gonna sit here all night staring at his ass?”

“I wasn’t just staring at his ass. He’s got plenty of other nice things to stare at.”

For the last hour, you’d been staring at the mysterious brunette blind man lingering by one of the pool tables with his two friends. You hadn’t even wanted to come out tonight. It had been a hell of a week, and you would’ve rather gotten tipsy in the comfort of your own living room. But now you were thankful your best friend had dragged you out, and to whomever this gorgeous man’s tailor was. 

The white dress shirt he wore seemed to strain around his broad shoulders and biceps every time he lifted his beer bottle to his plump looking lips. His maroon tie hung loosely around his neck, the first two buttons undone, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows giving you a delectable view of his forearms. But the real star of the show were his pants. They clung to his thighs like a second skin, and every time he leaned over the pool table, you were presented with the sight of the most amazing ass you had ever seen. 

You didn’t know whether to be jealous that yours didn’t have the same curve and roundness or grateful that from your spot in the bar you had the perfect view of it. 

“Quit being insecure. It’s not like he can see you.”

“Oh wow, thanks.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You might as well be as blind as he is if you can look in the mirror and not see you’re a knockout.”

Rolling your eyes, you downed the rest of your dry martini, letting the bitter lukewarm gin settle warmly in your lower stomach. Setting down your empty glass on the table, you turned to her and cocked your head to the side, narrowing your eyes into lighthearted slits.

“Do you know how blind people ‘see’? With their hands.”

“What man doesn’t love a good handful of tits and ass?”

The laugh that abruptly escaped your mouth couldn’t be contained by your hand. It was so loud and infectious, it caught the attention of a few patrons around your table. Removing the twist of lemon from your empty glass, you tossed it in her direction with widened eyes, trying to speak through your laughter.

“Jesus, Jess.”

“What? All I’m saying is if I had your curves, I would never wear clothes. I’d walk around naked all the time. And I certainly wouldn’t be so shy about approaching men.”

“Okay one, you do that already. And two, you haven’t been shy a day in your life.”

Setting her glass of bourbon down, Jessica looked at you with a mischievous smirk on her lips and arched one of her dark brows.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you go talk to him.”

“You are not bribing me to go talk to him.”

“Well I shouldn’t have to with the way you’re drooling over him. Thirty bucks.”

“I am not drooling-”

“Forty bucks.”

“Jess I swear to-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a firm chest met your shoulder, and you felt a large hand suddenly pressing along your lower back. Glancing up, your eyes widened in shock as you were met with the sight of none other than the beautiful man that you had been thirsting over all night. His soft lips stretched into the brightest and most charming grin you had ever seen, adorned with a set of dimples indenting each of his scruffy cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, excuse me. I think I took a wrong turn on the way to the bar.”

That voice…God, that voice. It was deep and smooth and itched something in your brain you didn’t realize needed to be scratched. You’d definitely be fantasizing about it later reciting particular phrases with your hand between your legs. A light kick to your shin under the table brought you back to the present, and you turned your head to glare at Jessica, finding her staring back at you with an arched brow, motioning her head towards the handsome stranger. You quickly realized that you hadn’t said anything, just sat there gawking at him, and your cheeks flushed with heat as you stumbled over a response.

“Oh…um…don’t worry about it. I get lost on my way home from work all the time, and I only live two blocks from my office. At least you have an excuse.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, your eyes widened in horror, and you immediately started trying to do damage control.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. That’s not what I meant…I just…I didn’t-”

Your ramblings were cut off by the sound of his deep and hearty chuckle that was melodic and full of pure amusement. His large hand that was splayed on your back, causing your skin to feel scorched from the heat of his palm transferring through the thin material, slowly slid to your waist to give it a light reassuring squeeze, but he didn’t pull away.

“Two blocks away? If your sense of direction is that bad, you’re welcome to borrow my cane.”

There was a hint of a tease nestled within his words that you detected, and it settled the anxiety that had twisted your stomach into knots thinking you had offended him. Letting out a soft breath, a faint laugh left your lips.

“That’s…very generous of you.”

The man’s tongue darted out to wet his plump lips, and the sight was hypnotic. The edge of his mouth curved up into a devilish smirk, and he gave a light shrug of his shoulders.

“I’m Catholic.”

A soft snort escaped you at that, and your brows rose slightly up your forehead as you took a moment to enjoy the sight of this gorgeous man up close.

“Oh, so the generosity is mandated?”

“Highly encouraged. Speaking of generosity, would you mind showing me to the bar?”

That caught you off guard. Blinking a few times, your lips parted to speak, but you abruptly forgot every word in the English language. Jessica suddenly piped up from across the table.

“She’d love to. She needs a refill anyway.”

You were so caught up in being close enough to the handsome brunette stranger to smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne, you had almost forgotten she was there. Turning your head to look at Jessica with widened eyes, silently asking “what the fuck are you doing”, all she did was wink in response and bring her glass of bourbon to her curved lips.

“Well, in that case, I’d love to buy you a drink then. As a thank you.”

The man removed his hand from your waist, and you instantly found yourself missing the contact. He held his large hand out in your direction, that same charming smile plastered on his enticing mouth.

“I’m Matt, by the way.”

Matt. Your new favorite name. You’d definitely be reciting it later in bed while you indulged in erotic fantasies, wishing that your hand between your thighs was his own. 

Smiling shyly, you slipped your hand into his, your heart rate picking up at the way he curled his fingers around your palm in a firm but gentle grip. His hand was warm and a little rough but you wouldn’t mind letting him trace every inch of your skin to draw his own map of you in his mind. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N.”

The way he repeated your name, like he was tasting it on his lips, had heat burning in your lower belly more than the gin you’d consumed. He gave your hand a delicate tug in his direction, grinning when you followed his silent command and got down from the bar stool. He let go of your hand to slip his arm around your waist instead, bending down to speak lowly in your ear.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover  @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejloveb0t @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts @starsm00n @mentallyunstablebish @spiritofthewriter @merleisapartygod @powellssaturn @geeksareunique @urlocalgeek

[judysxnd]

Interrupted

Okay so I got my first request, thank you so much !! It got me so excited!! Also, I have no idea why I can’t tag you, I guess I’m still struggling to understand tumblr 😂 I hope you’ll like what I wrote.

Summary : y/n and Pedro are going out for dinner. As they walk out, a small group, apparently fans of y/n, recognize them. As they interact, it does not go as planned, which makes Pedro pretty jealous and uncomfortable.

——————————————————————————————

You and Pedro have been dating for over a year now. Being both actors, your schedules were always a little tight. So, from the beginning, you secured a moment for a date, and you both agreed on Thursday night. So every Thursday, you chose a restaurant and went. At the beginning you were very nervous about going out, as your relationship was yet to be official. So you were ordering, or went out of the city. After 10 months, it was official, so you decided not to hide anymore.

Fans were nice and respectful not to disturb you if they found you while having dinner, but before and after it was inevitable. And today was no exception. Today is Thursday, and you were about to leave. Pedro chose a nice Italian restaurant that you’ve both never went to.

“You look absolutely gorgeous mi amor” he said as he entered the bathroom. You were finishing getting ready, putting your earrings. You looked at him through the mirror as he settled himself next to you.

“You too look amazing mi cariño” he let out a little moan when he heard mi cariño. Oh how he loved when you spoke his native language.

“Okay we need to go before I change my mind” you laughed.

Thirty minutes later you were walking in the restaurant. It was not that much crowded. It made you less anxious. Less people meant less people looking at you. Yes, you were not a fan of the attention when you trying to enjoy your private life.

The dinner went great. The food was great, you and Pedro talked a lot, you joked, had serious conversations. It actually amazed the both of you how you could never run out of things to talk about, even if you live together and have been dating for a while. After finishing dessert and your glass of wine, you decided to leave. It was not too late, but you wanted to spend the rest of night alone with him.

After walking for two minutes hand in hand, you were interrupted by a group of two guys and one girl.

“Hi we’re so sorry to bother you, but we wondered if we could take a picture with you y/n?” The girl said.

“Oh yes, of course!” You said enthusiastically. You and Pedro parted. You took a few pictures with the girl. The two guys stayed on the side, eyeing and checking you, looking up and down at you, but you quickly avoided them and drove your full attention to the girl. But Pedro didn’t. It was making him jealous. How could they look at you like that? He was literally next to you.

“I really loved your last movie, it was amazing, I can’t wait for the second one!”

“Thank you so much, yeah I can’t wait either, I think you’ll like the second one better!”

“Have you finished filming it yet?”

“Almost actually”

“Are you going to be in that pool again?” One of the guy suddenly asked, smirking. You looked at him confused, not saying anything. Pedro was frowning.

“Oh- are you going to fight that dude again? It was pretty h-” the other guy said but was interrupted by Pedro before you got to say anything.

“Okay! I think that’s enough” he said coming closer to you. “As much we appreciate the attention, there’s more to the movie and y/n’s acting than that” he said, staring very intensely at the guys. They were shocked. “Did you actually watch the entire movie? Or just got to watch those parts for something else?”

“We- no, we did wa-” Pedro didn’t let them finish.

“I think you should apologize” he said. “And at least behave like your friend here and actually have some interests” he said pointed to the girl who was clearly embarrassed by her friends.

“We’re sorry”

“Yeah sorry..” they said.

“Thank you” you finally said barely looking at them. “And you to you, you were very nice, have a good night” you said to the girl. Pedro put his arm on your shoulder and you left.

“Thank you” you said to Pedro, holding him tight.

“I hate those kind of people, I don’t know at least pretend to give fuck in front of the person” he said a little aggressively. He was still upset.

“Calm down, it’s over now. Forget about them, let’s not let them ruin our night”

“I know you’re famous too and I’m used to people looking at you, but the way they were checking you out and how they talked about you, it just makes me so mad. They were looking at you like- I saw their eyes wondering on your body, hm hm, scanning you and all, nope I can’t” your right arm was around Pedro’s waist, and you put your left arm on his stomach.

“The entire world worships you, it’s like that every time we see your fans, you know how I feel now” you joked, he stared at you. “Too soon?”

“Too soon”

“Okay, I’ll try again in twenty minutes” you joked again. This time Pedro couldn’t help but smile. “There it is” you pointed to his mouth.

“Okay okay” he said laughing a little bit, putting your hand away. You were now at your car.

The drive home was silent, music playing in the background. It was not awkward nor anything. You could see that Pedro was more relaxed now. Everything was fine, and you were going to be able to enjoy the rest of the night together at home. This date night was not over.

[butchdiaz]

baby’s first 911 fic!!!!

i wish i said it better (poker fake dating spec 3 months late, 12k)

It’s 7am and Eddie needs to go home. The last 24 hours were non-stop. No big calls, but a million small ones, spread out just far enough to lull him into a false sense of relaxation, barely having time to lay his head on the pillow before the alarm blared through the station. He’s dead on his feet. He has to take a shower, maybe a power nap if he’s lucky, relieve Carla and take Chris to school in a little over an hour. Eddie needs to go home.

He parks outside Buck's loft shortly after 7:15, head reeling, replaying his conversation with Hen right before leaving the station on a loop.

“I'm just sick of it.” Eddie lets out a breath and bangs his head against the locker that he shares with Buck.

 Eddie has been on three dates this week, and it feels like enough for a lifetime. How do people do this for months? For years? He feels a little silly giving up after a week after making such a big deal of putting himself back out there, but maybe he's just not meant for this. The revolving door of women.

“Sick of what?” Hen asks gently.

“The – the small talk and the not knowing what they like and the uncertainty and the thinking twelve steps ahead because there’s no way I'm bringing anyone less than perfect into Chris's life so as soon as one thing is off I'm checked out and I have to smile and nod my way through the rest of the night and,” Eddie sighs, feeling suddenly much older than thirty one, “It's exhausting.”

“Haven't you only been on, like, three dates?” Hen raises an accusing eyebrow. It's a statement with a question mark on the end.

“Shut up.”

“I'm just saying, there are a lot of amazing women in LA. It seems kind of unfair to write off all of them after three dates.”

Eddie sighs, tries to imagine sitting across the dinner table from a woman and wanting to take her home. It’s a blank in his mind. A blurry supercut of perfect women and perfect conversation that never leads to anything more.

He can picture the alternative, though. Coming home to Chris and Buck playing video games on the couch, squeezing in beside them with a beer, listening to their fond banter – exactly like he’s done after cutting every date short this week.

It's easy. No small talk, no pretense, no body on high alert for red flags.

“I'm not writing off all women,” he grumbles, “I just need a break.”

“From dating? Or from women?” Hen asks, a thoughtful expression on her face. Eddie doesn't like that face. It means she knows something.

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, feeling suddenly like he's caught in a trap, “Aren't they the same thing?”

Hen shrugs, “They could be.”

Yeah, definitely a trap. Hen closes her locker, and swings her bag onto her shoulder, taking a second to choose her next words with care.

“Have you considered,” she says, “that it's not the dating that's the problem?”

“Um,” Eddie replies eloquently once more, feeling lost. Hen sighs, looking at him like he can't grasp basic math.

“Maybe it's the dating women, Eddie. Maybe that's the problem.”

And, oh. Hen thinks he should date–oh.

He just stands there, LAFD jacket hanging loosely off one shoulder, mouth slightly agape like a fish out of water. Hen turns to go, taking one last look back at Eddie from the doorway.

“Just something to think about,” she says, that damn twinkle in her eye, knowing that she’s caught him, hook, line and sinker, “if you never have.”

read more on ao3

tagging the homies <3

@911onabc @useramor @translasso @lucydonato @anxieteandbiscuits @danielsousa @ilostyou @jamietarts @anirudhpisharody @janesbennet @try-set-me-on-fire @carryingbears @saltedbutr @rivermp3 @diazly @goldenbcnes @roy-kents @poughkeepsies

[emlovslennon]

anotha one because holy fuck this man makes me feral.

era: 1968-early ‘69

-

John has been inside our bedroom for at least 2 hours, practicing the same song over and over again. The only song he actually cares about, that is. John has about completely given up on the band, but he at least there’s some energy. One thing to know about John, however, is that he HATES being interrupted. Even by his wife. But, you’ve been craving his touch for weeks, he’s hardly paid any mind, so why not take a risk?

Once you mustered up the courage, and by mustering up you put on a short, skimpy, night gown John had bought you for your second wedding anniversary and some black, see through tights. You slowly, but surely walked up to the door. It took you a good thirty seconds to actually open the door. John didn’t even look at you when you opened the door, to see you standing by the doorway barely covered.

“Johnny, please, it’s been forever. I want you.” You whimpered, too scared to be too loud.

“Y/n… What have I told you at least a thousand times? I’m working, not the time.” John warns, looking back at me. You could see on his face that a blush appeared, he bit his lip, staring you down his down like a predator finding it’s prey.

“But please, John. I promise just one time and you can go back to-“ you was quickly cut off by John nearly slamming his guitar to the ground and getting off of your shared bed to come up and grab you by the chin.

“You just don’t like listening, do you? Been a lot more bitchy lately cuz I haven’t been bedding you. Now you’re just gonna have to take whatever I fucking give you. Do you hear me, girl?” John reprimanded. You felt the heat between your legs beginning to drool and throb. This was gonna be rough, but it’s something.

John grabbed you and threw you onto the bed, you could hear the ruffling of clothes as John unbuckled his belt and undid his purple button up.

“Hands and knees. Now.” John growled, his voice was low and domineering. You actually felt, afraid in way. But it just turned you on. You never saw John like this, and you couldn’t help but like it. You instantly got up on your hands and knees, your head resting against the plush pillow underneath you. He ripped your tights down to your thighs, exposing your bottom half to him.

“You do not understand the amount of stress I’m under right now. The last thing I need is my ever so loving wife to act like a fucking dog in heat.” Johns voice got louder. Without warning, John smacked his belt against your lower half, causing you to cry out.

“John, please. ‘M wanna help you.” You murmured. John looked at you, amazed. You would really do anything for him if it means you got stuffed full of his cock, or if it made him feel better. He really won the jackpot by finding you.

“You wanna help me, baby? Well, I suppose you can. But I’m warning you now, I’m not going easy on ye. So if you need to smack me or tell to me to stop, please do.” He said, quite softly. The softness didn’t last long however, he brought he belt back to your ass again. Your cunt was glistening, wetness pooling down your thighs, aching for him.

“Holy fuck, you like this, y/n? You like how I’m marking your little ass? Huh? Your cunts crying for me.” John chuckled. You put this man in pure disbelief. You make it so hard for him to stay mad at you.

After about six more lashes from his belt, your ass was completely red and bruised. There was definitely gonna be a mark or two (or three) in the morning. Your thighs were shaking, you could feel tears wanting to escape your eyes, but you loved it. Honestly, this was so much better than just regular love making. John took his cock out of his boxers and teased you with it. You were so drenched that your wetness was pooling onto the bedsheets below. Johns mouth literally felt like watering. You were fighting the urge to grind back on him, trying to get him to go inside.

“Almost forgot, baby. Need to stretch ya out.” John mumbled under his breath. He put two fingers into your drooling cunt without warning. Your sighs turned into cries as he scissored you fast and quick. Your heart was pounding, you felt like you were on cloud nine. The pleasure was unbearable.

“Fuck, such a good little girl, you are. Taking everything I give you. My obedient little whore. I fucking love it.” John praised. The praises made you moan louder, the squelching noises from your cunt more than audible.

“John, fuck, please, please.” You begged. Your voice pathetically hoarse from your cries.

“Gonna need more convincing than that. That’s pathetic.” John said. You cried out again when his fingers continually hit your sweet spot.

“John please fuck me. I need you so badly, I’ll be so good please. ‘M so wet for you.” You begged. God, it was dirty, so pathetic. But oh my god. You loved it so much. John almost burst when he heard you beg. He swore it was the hottest thing he had ever heard in his life. John spent no time thrusting his whole length inside you. Giving you no time to adjust.

You screamed at the intrusion. John pounded you like it was last fuck on earth. All the stress from the rehearsals and the rocky friendship with Paul gone away. All he could think about was making his good girl cum. (And himself, duh). You were so, so good to him.

“Yeah, that feel good, sweet girl? Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. Lemme hear how good I fuck you.” John demanded. If you weren’t already screaming the house down, you sure as hell were now. Johns cock hit all the right places inside you. But, fuck. He was relentless.

“J-john, s-slow down!” You yelled out. John slapped your ass in response, causing you to cry out.

“You can take it, baby. I know you can. Come on, fucking take it.” John grunted. You turned to look at him. He looked fucking mesmerizing. Sweat was all down his chest and all over his face, his long hair stuck to his forehead and messy. He was biting his lip and he gotten rid of his glasses. He looked like a god.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer to your sweet release. John caught you staring and gave you a smirk and playful slap to your ass, causing you to gasp. You attempted to look away but John grabbed you once again and flipped you over, so you were underneath him. He pulled you down and pinned your arms above your head, and continued to pound into you. Your thighs and poor cunt started to get sore from the rough treatment, but you can’t say you were complaining in the slightest.

“J-john, I-I-“ you panted. You couldn’t even properly form words anymore. John was fucking you way too good, to the point of being brainless.

“Aw, can’t speak, baby? Is Johnny fucking you too good? Huh? Wanna cum? My angel wants to cum?” John cooed. His hand caressing your cheek as he kissed your forehead. Even if this started because he undeniably pissed, he still couldn’t help but fawn over his beautiful girl. All his.

All you could do was nod. John was thinking about teasing you a bit more and edging you, but you’ve done way too good for him. It just wouldn’t be fair.

“Come on, y/n. Cum for me. Fuck.” John moaned. The squelching sound from your cunt intensified, and you felt an even more overpowering feeling than just a “regular” orgasm. Your weak cries turned into screams as you squirted all onto Johns cock and bedsheets. John stopped his thrusting and watched. Not only was he shocked, he was internally proud of himself.

“What a good fucking girl. Look at that.” John whispered in awe. You were trembling and had tears running down your face, your mascara was staining your cheeks. It pulled at Johns heartstrings. He felt awful now.

“Y/n…Are you okay? Honey, I’m sorry. I’ll clean you up.” Before he could get up and grab a towel, you quickly grabbed his arm.

“No, need you to cum in me. Please. ‘M wanna make you feel good.” You begged weakly. John was taken aback, but smirked as he pinned back to the bed, his hand lightly grasping your neck as he began to pound himself inside you again. You ached as you felt so overstimulated, but you wanted him to get his release. He deserved one too.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum. Just wait a little longer baby.” He grunted. His grunts becoming louder and his pants increasing. He was fucking hot. John let out a strangled moan as he filled you up to the brim. He slowly let his weight fall on top of you. His hair fell to each side of your face.

“T-thank you.” You whisper to him. John looks up, smiling sweetly. He slowly pulls out of you and looks at his cum dripping from your abused cunt.

“Honey, really. If I hurt you, I’m sorry. You’re so precious to me. I hope you know that.” John said with genuine sympathy. You grasped his hand and nuzzled into his chest.

“No, please. Let’s do that more often.”

Needless to say, John took note of that.

-

Needless to say, i let out some steam and some sexual frustration in this so uhm enjoy HAHSHS.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

The Trouble With Love

Part One 🌸❤️

Based on an idea I had a couple of days ago ❤️🌸

Steve Harrington x Reader fic where he's married to Nancy but the fantasy he had in his head many years ago doesn't transpire and he's deeply unhappy as is she.

Both are too stubborn to admit anything is wrong. He's fine Dustin stop being a butthead okay?

Jonathan is around all the time and so are you... His next-door neighbour and his goddaughter's (Robin and Vickie's kid) preschool teacher who he can't stop running into, arguing with or thinking about.

Steve is 33, reader is in her 20's

Warnings; Angst, trouble in paradise, a bucket load of sexual tension.

Part one, possible series ☺️💕

Lmk if you want to be tagged x

I don't give anyone permission to copy, repost my work.

If you enjoyed this pls consider liking or reblogging.

💕

It was quiet this morning, too quiet, Steve didn't like when it got too quiet because the thoughts he so easily pushed aside came rushing to the surface.

Thoughts about Nancy and their marriage and the hopeless sense of despair he had been feeling for months maybe even longer now.

After a few years away from Hawkins with Nancy becoming a well-known journalist and Steve staying in Hawkins with Robin to help rebuild the town after its destruction by Vecna and The Upside Down's defeat, he and Nancy met again and took a second chance at dating.

This time things worked out at least for the first few years. Nancy's ambition grew bigger and bigger while Steve did his best to support her even though his dreams of discussing starting a family were out on hold again.

He had that fantasy, the perfect fantasy of him and Nancy with six lil nuggets in the summertime, on a road trip in a Winnebago.

He told Nancy that years ago and he was still hopeful that could happen. He was thirty-three and they had time to do it.

Well, maybe not six lil nuggets but even a few would be nice because Steve had always envisioned a big family for himself.

It's just he wished Nancy took his dreams seriously such as he did for her.

He grew up as an only child with a mother and father who thought throwing money his way for several years constituted as them being attentive.

The truth was he spent more time with nanny's and his grandmother than his parents and he knew that when he had kids he wanted to make sure they knew how loved and treasured they were.

He never wanted them to feel lonely as he did, in truth the only decent thing his father did for him now was get him a great job in his company, flex hours, benefits, amazing pay.

When a child did finally come along then he would be able to stay at home as much as he possibly could.

The thoughts of how he was going to broach the subject again to Nancy was fully in his mind once more but the phone ringing caught his attention.

It was Robin "Hey dingus, can you pick up Anna for me? Have to take Vickie to an emergency dentist appointment and she's fteaking out incase we're late to pick Anna up"

This brightens his mood considerably, he adored his goddaughter.

"Yeah, sure Rob, I'll pick her up" Robin briefs a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Steve, I owe you one" With a click she's gone and he heads to Hawkins Preschool to pick up Anna.

His good mood lasts until he sees you, Anna's teacher and his next-door neighbour who drove him crazy.

Anna adored you and called you Miss Smiley because you were always happy, smiling and saccharine sweet to everyone in Steve's opinion.

It irritated Steve to no end because you weren't sweet as pie to him, you called him out on his bullshit all the time, and he had never known anyone to get under his skin quite like you did.

He reaches the preschool with time to spare and finds you and Anna waiting outside, she's holding your hand and babbling excitedly to you, there's a big grin on your face as you listen to Anna indulgently.

"Good afternoon, Mr Harrington," you say sweetly and he scowls because being called Mr Harrington makes him feel like his dad or some shit.

"It's Steve" he reminds you for the umpteenth time and you look all innocent and sweet but he's sure you're doing it to annoy him.

"Uncle Steve" Anna beams giving him a toothy smile and hugging his legs, his heart melts and the ache for a child of his own grows even more.

"Hi, Anna Banana, how's my best girl?" she shows him the drawing he did. A picture of him, Robin and Robin.

"See Mama, mama, and you" She beams and he picks her up and hugs her close, all his stress melting away for a second due to the picture.

It's all squiggles mostly but there are two figures holding hands, Robin and Vickie and then there's Steve, he identifies himself through the vast amount of hair that Anna has drawn.

"I love it, sweetheart" he assures her and he catches your eye surprised to see you smiling at him, genuinely.

"She got a gold star today for that drawing, well all the kids did but Anna's was a personal favourite" he cocks his eyebrow curious.

"Oh yeah?" you nod and gesture to the picture.

"Captured your hair and pose perfectly" pose?

"Mama!" Anna squeals and he sees Robin coming out of her car. She beams at him gratefully and takes Anna from him.

"Vickie said to catch up with you and invite you to dinner tomorrow. It's pizza night" That goes down well with Anna who claps excitedly.

"Yay! Pizza" He nods confirming this with Robin then turns back to you annoyed.

"What pose? I don't pose" you chuckle and Robin watches the both of you amused as Vickie comes to get Anna to take her to the car.

"Oh you know it's kinda like a scolding dad, hands-on-hips, I'm so over this shit look" His eyes widen and he hears Robin stifle her laughter.

"I do not... He realises he's doing the very same pose she was talking about and rolls his eyes. Great.

Robin realising that the two of them could argue for hours wisely decides to head to the car and go home.

She will hear all about it from Steve later, she always does.

Can you believe that yn said this? She's such a brat? Do you all believe this Miss Smiley shit? I can't stand her.

Lather rinse repeat. Blah blah blah. For someone he couldn't stand, he talked about you enough.

It did take his mind off him and Nancy though and while Nancy was her friend Steve was her platonic soulmate and she knew that his and Nancy's marriage wasn't as perfect as they tried to portray.

There were too stubborn to admit any problems and it didn't help that Jonathan was back in Hawkins again.

Dustin had tried to get through to Steve as well but Steve would insist nothing was wrong.

"I'm fine Dustin don't be a butthead" is all he would say, she wishes she could help but until Steve admitted there was a problem what could she do?

💕

"You need to relax a little you know Mr Harrington, stress isn't good for you, plus the kids pick up on it" you tell him.

He looks at you like you've grown two heads and counts to three to tame his irritation but it doesn't work.

"I am relaxed. It's you that drives me crazy, just cut the shithead antics yeah?" You're quiet and he turns away then you speak again.

"Yes, sir" It's a little taunt, teasing and he freezes at the sir. Freezes because the sir goes straight to his cock and he feels a wave of guilt wash over him.

What was this? You were irritating and nosey and he couldn't stand you and he had Nancy! He storms away from you and vows to stay far away from your annoying sweet smile.

💕💕

Nancy is back once he gets in from work, also Jonathan Byers's car is parked in their driveway and he puts a smile on his face not wanting to fight.

Jonathan is showing Nancy some of his photos of his various trips around America, and the two of them are laughing and drinking wine.

Jonathan gets up and picks up his jacket giving him a small smile.

"I better go, I'll see you later" Nancy nods and see him out, when she comes back inside she gives him a quick kiss.

"I've got some papers to write. Do you want takeout for dinner?" he nods and pulls off his jacket.

"Just spent some time with Anna, she drew the cutest picture, Nance" Nancy smiles at this and he feels his heart thump nervously as he broaches the subject of kids.

It's been a long time since they talked about it.

"Hey, Nance? It would be nice if we could think about having a little nugget huh?" she sighs and runs her hand through her hair.

"Not now Steve, I'm getting really far with this new story and I don't have any time to take off for maternity or even think about the amount of childcare we would need to think of" his heart sinks because it's the same thing she said almost a year ago.

"Right okay" He nods and she rolls her eyes.

"Don't do that okay, don't make me feel bad about it okay? I don't need you pressuring me" he gapes.

"Pressure you? We talked about it last year Nance! I barely bring it up because you get like this. You know having kids is a big dream of mine, you've always known that.

"I support every dream of yours 110% but mine? You just dismiss them." she shakes her head.

"You know what? This is bullshit. You're bullshit and I don't have time for this" she picks up her jacket and storms out.

"Nance wait!" she's gone before he can apologise or say anything to stop her.

💕

He heads into the garden just to take a minute, the argument with Nancy firmly in his mind.

The pain he's feeling is intense and he's so tired of the arguments, he massages his head feeling sick to his stomach.

"Are you okay?" he looks up and finds you standing near his fence. Your eyes are full of concern and he nods.

"I'm fine" He pinches the bridge of his nose to stop the tears from coming, a minute or so later he hears his gate open.

When he looks up you're beside him, and the alarm is written all over your face, you gently place an arm on his shoulder.

"Steve" your voice is kind and he's startled that you've called his name and not Mr Harrington.

"It's uh, just Nance and I have been arguing a lot, it's nothing" but that wasn't true when they were getting to the point that they argued frequently, that something was breaking between them.

"I'm sorry, really I am," you tell him sincerely and he is grateful. It's nice to have someone with him, it's nice not to feel this crushing heartache alone.

It feels like his whole life is falling apart and he doesn't know what to do. He would never ask Nancy to give up her dreams but would she want him to give up his?

Why couldn't they find some compromise?

"I want kids and Nancy is really focused on work which is amazing, I'm so proud of her it's just... She knows how I feel about having a family and yet when I bring it up she shuts down like there's no hope of a compromise or anything"

You don't say anything you just stay with him and after a minute or so passes you gently tug on his shirt.

"You look like you could use a hug and I've been known to give good ones" you suggest and Steve thinks that sounds pretty great, he could use a friend right now.

Your arms wrap around him and he finds comfort in your embrace for a moment, there's a weird tension in the air though and it makes him nervous and he pulls away giving you a soft smile.

"Thanks" He squeezes your shoulder and he heads back inside confusion racing through his mind.

💕💕

When you head inside your house your heartbeat is just returning to normal.

This couldn't happen you couldn't focus on these feelings for Steve. It was so stupid and reckless and for goodness sake, he was married!!

Nothing could happen between the two of you, you really needed to get over this stupid crush.

It wasn't like he liked you anyway. Even if he wasn't married he found you annoying, he said so himself.

Why did you have to be attracted to someone who was completely unavailable? It made you feel like an idiot and just very low.

It was imperative that you needed to get over this crush before you ended up very hurt.

💕💕

[mcflymemes]

KINGSMAN: THE GOLDEN CIRCLE PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the 2017 film

now go off and save the world.

this is not the end.

i made you these.

you have thirty seconds before they reach your position.

it's all right. don't panic.

that's all i'm gonna tell you, because that's all you need to know.

give me the code!

you've got three seconds to tell the truth.

why are you still wearing that?

i could say the same thing about you!

how the fuck is screwing someone gonna save the world?

how important is that dinner?

you've got to be fucking kidding.

i need you.

how do you do? have we met before?

would you like to hold him?

then you're no use to me.

you are the person i wanna spend the rest of my life with.

i hate to seem rude, but i need to finish packing and get some sleep.

i was looking forward to finishing him off.

i think there must be some mistake.

i hope you're hungry.

i'm gonna get the blame now.

when i was shot, can you guess what the last thing was that flashed through my mind?

it's a bit complicated, but trust me, i would not be doing it if i didn't have to.

if you really love me, just one little kiss.

been waiting all night for you to at least kiss me.

i just thought maybe we could practice? for tonight.

let me teach you a lesson.

why are you telling me about your shoes?

come snuggle with me. i like you.

are you quite mad?

i want to be with you.

don't move. you move, we die.

you're so smart. you should work for me.

you really expect me to take that seriously?

police are right behind you.

loosen up. we saved the world.

it is quite the opposite.

you're really not as i expected.

i'm sure you can last longer than that.

are we going to stand around here all day?

don't mention it.

this is very delicious.

i don't think i can.

yes, how could i forget?

what the hell happened?

what's your name?

what? what's the problem?

that's the first decent shit i've had in three weeks.

or we could just... fuck.

i know you didn't mean to make me feel like a dumbass.

shut up and sit down.

i beg your pardon!

i had a girlfriend.

i'll let you make it up to me by letting me buy you a drink.

you're late.

it's beautiful, isn't it?

take a look in the glove box.

shoot you? well, i will shoot you.

just know that having something to lose is what makes life worth living.

go away, old man.

well, actually, we had an invitation.

i do agree with the part where you go fuck yourself.

we're under attack.

i had no ties. no bittersweet memories.

get down on your knees and tell me who you really work for.

what do you see?

just thought i'd bring you a little leaving present.

this is where we split up.

you were really gonna do it?

wow. this is amazing.

is this a rescue attempt?

i don't like easy. i like proof.

you signal when we're in position.

you all right? what was that phone call you got?

how do i look?

who the fuck are you?

thought everything was supposed to be bigger in america.

it's been an honor.

never experienced companionship, never been in love.

let me translate that for you.

if you save the world, you know what that means.

it seemed silly not to take advantage of the confusion.

how about a martini for old time's sake?

you mind if i share your cab?

what the fuck have you done?

do as you're told.

get out of my room! get out!

it's a lasso.

it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.

what's wrong with me?

is that any way to welcome a visitor from out of town?

isn't that supposed to be saturday?

you're lying. look at your hands.

that is true love right there.

i owe you everything.

there's no time for emotion.

you ready?

i have an antidote.

what have you done to me, you fucking bitch?

are you sure i don't look like a dick?

it'll take time to get your coordination back.

it's proof that my plan is going to work.

i thought you fixed me.

remember your training or we all die.

look in the mirror.

there's got to be another way.

suck my southern dick, bitch.

you'll be back to normal soon.

don't worry, i can fix it.

not a doubt in my mind.

our journey began with a mistake i made.

here's a couple of welcome back gifts.

i don't think that'll be necessary.

it doesn't have to be this way.

well, what are you ladies waiting for?

do you know what that means?

you two need to get going.

you're right. mission comes first.

i'm gonna go get changed.

[girlreviews]

Review #7: Rumours, Fleetwood Mac

I might have met a person who hasn’t listened to Rumours, but I’ve never met a person who has listened to it and was like “no thanks”. Never. If anyone hates this record get in touch, I just want to talk.

So interesting that such an incredible piece of work that holds up decade after decade, represents a band that during its creation was a damn hot mess. It’s not just a breakup record. It’s a double breakup record. Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham had called it quits, and John and Christine McVie were circling the drain, divorcing while they toured Rumours. Hoo-boy can you feel it all. Never has such an overall cheery and upbeat record been so deeply filled with resentment, anger, heartbreak, defeat and getting the fuck over it. You’re just trying to keep up with which song is a fuck you from which band member to the other. Except you can’t, because you end up just getting lost in the music.

Never mind that before all of that, the drummer had an affair with Mick Fleetwood’s wife and all hell broke loose. Line up changes and whatnot. They started as a blues band, y’know? Yet, here we are, with this gorgeous thirty nine minutes of music and a group of people that arguably should seek therapy, rehab, and probably never see each other again. If David Attenborough is a Fleetwood Mac fan — and let’s assume that he is — he would say, “life… finds a way”.

As is often the case I had actually heard covers of a few of the songs as a young’un before ever hearing the originals or ever hearing the full album. Eva Cassidy covered Songbird. It was my childhood friend’s favorite song, and makes me think of her every time I hear it. The Corrs, Irish sibling band, covered Dreams in the late 90s. Their whole thing was a little weird. Jack Dee used to have a bit about the “odd” Corr brother that wasn’t invited to be in the band, Pat Corr. It was pretty funny. That old boss of mine used to say disparaging things about Andrea Corr as if she’d ever have given him the time of day. It makes me want to punch things, even now. I realize in hindsight he used to tear down any Irish woman musician that saw more success than him (see also: Sinéad O’Connor, Delores O’Riordan). They all did see more success, and they all deserved it, with two of them leaving legendary musical legacies even after death. He never made it past a breakfast show that had two knockoff muppets as presenters. I’m not joking.

Let’s talk about Second Hand News, what a charming and odd way to open an album. Buckingham wrote this and he’s generally acknowledged to be a real piece of work (allegedly, John McVie threw a glass of vodka in his face during the making of the record), even now. He insists he “ain’t gonna miss” Nicks when she goes, and that he’s been “tossed around enough”, but it’s pretty clear he ain’t over it. Boohoo, Lindsey. Such light acoustic riffs, luscious harmonies and hefty rhythm throughout with some outro guitar solo just to really make its point.

Dreams is a Stevie Nicks led classic. Let’s talk about Stevie. She’s been my hair inspiration for most of my life. She put out solo shit that was every bit as good as this record. Her voice sounds like that of a woman who has lived a thousand lives. An old, witchy, wise, woman, living in a young, exuberant, beautiful woman’s body. Like smoke on water. She warns Buckingham of his inevitable loneliness… “when the rain washes you clean, you’ll know”. Oof. For as tough and witchy as she is, there’s a real tenderness to her. I’ve always admired her ability to show the world all of her sides, the badass and the vulnerable. Pretty recently she showed us that vulnerable side when we lost Christine McVie. Stevie let her deep grief be known to the world. Whatever had gone on with that band, that was her best friend, and they’ll never sing together again.

This really is one of those where all of the tracks are amazing, but they’re all really different. Some are like standing in an open field of sunflowers, while some are like that part on a rollercoaster where you’re climbing slowly up the incline just waiting for the chaos. The Chain, I think, has to be my favorite for that reason. What I find so interesting is that they’re all credited as writers on this one, so it was an actual team effort, it would seem. First and foremost, the four (five?!) part harmonies in this are so incredible. It’s no softy squishy Simon and Garfunkel shit. These people are pissed, in different keys. It’s POWERFUL. But each instrument also has a voice of its own, the bass line, the guitar solo, the simple drum beat that evolves into a sprint. Whoever was on the tambourine even was going really fucking hard. It takes you on a damn journey. That rollercoaster was wild, let’s go again. And again. And again.

I used to have this record on vinyl and it sadly was one that got lost along the way between the UK and the US. I’ll say, it sounds mighty fine in that format. For a while in and after college, I lived in a shitty house in East London (it’s definitely fancy now but it was a rathole when I called it home). The kitchen ceiling literally caved in once. Anyway, it was me, my then boyfriend, my best girlfriend, and four other dudes. Sometimes we had just one rotating roommate. The point being it was some chaos, not unlike Fleetwood Mac in the making of Rumours. We were all a damn mess. But we were united any time I stuck this record on my turntable, or any time I was doing the dishes and one of the singles came on my absolutely adorable digital radio that looked like a teeny tiny Marshall Amp (add to list of things I wish I still had). I think of the good times in those kinda bad times when I hear Rumours, which is sort of the point of the album, as pointed out by Stevie in 2002:

“If you took out all the bad stuff in the band, the songs wouldn’t have happened. There simply wouldn’t have been a Rumours if everything had been fabulous.”

I’ll take her at her word, anyone with bangs that effortless can really do no wrong.

[everyl1ttleth1ng]

For reasons I will blame on a tweet that said “I just saw someone refer to TS and TK as ‘The English teacher and PE teacher getting it on’ AND I LOST MY MIND” and one of Taylor’s many amazing new songs on TTPD, “So High School,” it appears that I have joined the ranks of the psychos writing fanfiction about real people. We do AUs pretty well here on tumblr so, in this alternative universe of mine, the names, appearances and some elements of what is publicly known about these real people have been borrowed from actual reality and used to populate an entirely fictional story about teachers in a cross-discipline romance. Obvs I do not know any of my “actors” in real life and obvs this is not meant, in any way, to speculate about any of the named people’s actual lives. Also, some of my “actors” are just identified by their first names here but they are all played by real people in my head and you’ll probably pick ‘em if you’re even vaguely aware of actors, musicians and prominent figures across and around the NFL. And it’s set in the high school that Devi Vishwakumar goes to because, why not?

…

“She’s back,” announced Dalton, slumping into his chair and dropping his head dramatically onto his desk amid a tangle of whistles.

Pat chuckled. “Sorry dude, I was going to warn you but I never thought she’d agree to sub so soon after getting back into the country. Tammy must be desperate to cover classes. The poor girl’s probably still jet-lagged.”

“She doesn’t look jet-lagged,” muttered Dalton without lifting his head. “She looks like her perfect Disney Princess self, just more tanned from a year under the Spanish sun.”

“Dude,” said Pat, shaking his head. “Sometimes I wonder if PE is the right spot for you. You’re still young, it’s probably not too late to switch to something more dramatic.”

Travis looked from one colleague to the other. “What am I missing here?”

“Dalton has a crush,” said Pat. “It’s kind of endearing. She’s only a full decade older than he is and completely out of his league.”

“Shut up,” groaned Dalton.

“Knock, knock!” called a voice from the staff room doorway. “Paging Mr Travis Kelce.”

“English teachers?” said Travis, getting to his feet, his tone incredulous. “Are my eyes playing tricks on me or is that a pair of lost English teachers at our door? What are you two doing slumming it over on our side of the school?”

Dalton looked up in wide-eyed horror which quickly turned to relief when he saw which of the English teachers it was, or rather, wasn’t.

“Hey, Trav,” said Jack, accepting the embrace the bigger man offered with a grin and thumping him warmly on the back. “Em and I are worried we might have developed some kind of Stockholm Syndrome since our shared week on Grade Seven Camp. We really miss you, buddy.”

“Jack and all his pretentious poet friends are used to looking down on jocks. Now that he’s embroiled in a bromance with one, he’s finding it all very confusing.” Emma waited until Travis had released her from her hug before she added, “And we’re here to use you for your access to sports equipment.”

“Hurtful,” said Travis. “But it’s nice to have you guys visiting me in my staff room for a change. I kind of stick out like a sore thumb in yours.”

Jack snorted. “You know those old ladies love you.”

“They’ve started bringing in packets of those chocolate cookies you like just in case you pop by,” said Emma. “Better not leave them hanging, Trav.”

“Cookies, huh? Ok, I’ll be round tomorrow recess.”

“Nah, that won’t work,” said Emma. “Taylor swans in for thirty seconds this morning in a sleep-deprived haze-”

In the background Dalton surreptitiously lifted his head off the desk, the faint imprint of a whistle on his cheek.

“- mentions she watched Dead Poets Society on the plane ride home from Spain and suddenly they're all selecting extracts of poetry, dusting off an old gramophone and sending us over here to you lot to borrow some soccer balls.”

Travis looked from Jack to Emma with a bemused expression on his face. “Am I the idiot here if I have absolutely no idea what you two are talking about?”

“I know!” piped up Dalton. “Are you guys gonna recreate that scene with Robin Williams on the oval?” He nodded knowingly. “Iconic. I should tell Taylor I’m a fan too.”

Pat laughed. “Yeah, Dalton, you should. And maybe Taylor could come over while you watch the movie with your girlfriend. Remember her?”

Dalton glared at him then resignedly dropped his head back to the surface of his desk.

“Who’s Taylor?” asked Travis. “Is she another one of the old ladies with the cookies?”

Dalton scoffed dramatically, muffled though it was.

Pat cackled. “You okay there, Kinkaid?”

Emma pushed on Travis’ arm to get him moving. “C’mon, we’ve all gotta get to our homerooms eventually. We’ll explain while you take us to the soccer balls.”

…

“You are a lifesaver, my girl,” said Tammy, patting Taylor fondly on the arm. “I cannot thank you enough for coming in today.”

Taylor pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes and blinked sleepily. “What if I fall asleep on them? You don’t understand. I think it’s a real danger!”

Tammy laughed. “Hard to fall asleep in PE. Besides, you’re just there for the supervision ratio given that this is all of Grade 8 combined. Travis will have it all under control.”

“Travis?” asked Taylor. “Am I so tired that I’ve forgotten the name of a guy I’ve worked with for six years or is this someone new?”

Tammy looked up from her laptop in surprise. “Oooh, no, you wouldn’t have met Travis yet. He’s an old friend of Pat’s from college. Apparently they used to play football together. When Bill retired at the end of last year, Pat put in a call to his buddy and this place has not been the same since.”

Taylor nodded. “Ok, yes, this is sounding familiar. Britt did mention that some old friend of Pat’s had started at Sherman Oaks and that he was always at their place. I’m a bit worried he might have muscled into my spot at Friday Night Wine.”

Tammy considered her a moment. “So did you meet anyone in Spain? On your big single girl adventure?”

“I mean, I did.” Taylor shrugged. “He was nice, I guess, but nothing really came of it. We went our separate ways after a month or so. If I’d found the one, I might not have come home.” Taylor narrowed her eyes. “Hang on, why do you ask? What does this have to do with PE?”

Tammy patted her hand and handed her the class attendance papers. “You’ll see. Let’s go introduce you to Travis.”

“Okaaay,” said Taylor warily, as she followed Tammy dutifully out of her office. “You’re the boss, Mrs Reid. I’ll just grab a coffee and meet you there.”

…

The local school district’s baseball competition had half the PE staff out at a neighbouring school for most of the school day and long into the afternoon but Travis wasn’t worried, even in the face of all the Grade 8 PE classes combined. Tammy would find him a spare adult or two to stand around the edge of the gym and take care of supervision and he would get to teach more of his favourite unit - Grade 8 Dance. Last combined lesson they’d learned the Electric Slide and totally nailed it. Today he was gonna make the kids partner up and learn the Cha Cha. 

He plugged his phone into the sound system and cued up his playlist of Latin beats, cranking the volume as high as it would go, then headed over to unlock the gym doors and usher in the waiting students.

“Mr Kelce?” a familiar voice called from the gym entrance once the students had all shuffled in.

Travis turned to see the wife of his former football coach, now one of the Sherman Oaks deputy principals, waving to him. “Mrs Reid!” he boomed back, dancing his way over to her. “Come and cha cha with me. Let’s show these kids how it’s done.”

The older woman laughed and said, “Why not?” momentarily placing her ever-present sheaf of paperwork on a table near the door and giving him her hand.

The kids whooped and cheered as they watched Travis demonstrate how to be the perfect dance partner. He had particularly high hopes for these Grade 8 boys. They sorely needed a good example of how to treat other people, especially girls, and he hoped he could fill that role for them. The song playing came to an end and he spun Tammy out into the middle of the floor so they could both bow extravagantly, hamming it up for the student reaction.

“Let’s thank my extraordinary partner one more time,” Travis called. “Give it up for Mrs Reid!”

Tammy waved and curtsied then grinned at Travis and made her way toward her pile of papers and the door. 

“Ok, get yourself into the grid we learnt last week,” Travis instructed as he walked over to the sound system to cue up Shania Twain’s Man, I Feel Like a Woman. “We’re gonna warm up with a few rounds of the Electric Slide and I know that you guys are awesome at this so make sure to give it your own flair!”

He cued up a few songs to follow, mainly chosen to give the students a laugh. He chuckled to himself as he selected Vanilla Ice’s Ice Ice Baby and Kool and the Gang’s Get Down On It. 

Raising his eyes from his phone and looking over the heads of the line dancing students, he saw a statuesque blonde woman walk through the gym doors, a huge smile on her face as she took in their enthusiastic movement.

“Ms Swift?” cried out one of the girls. “You’re back!”

“Hi, Sophie!” she replied, waving as she made her way around the outside of the grid towards Travis. “Keep dancing! We’ll catch up later!”

Travis suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. He barely stopped himself from shoving his phone into the pocket of his shorts and disconnecting the cable to the sound system.

“Hi,” she said as she drew near, smiling broadly and holding out a hand to him. “I’m Taylor.”

“Travis,” he replied, taking her slender hand in his. “Nice to meet you.”

…

“Hey Trav,” said Jack, wearily looking up from the pile of papers he was grading. “Em’s around here somewhere if you’ve come to get the soccer balls back. Thanks for that by the way.”

Travis waved a hand. “No rush. Was it a success? Should I be worried I’m gonna lose half my football team to poetry or whatever?”

Emma’s head appeared over the top of the partition dividing their desks. “Not if their essays are anything to go by,” she said dryly, yanking off her massive headphones.

“Oh, hey, Em. Didn’t see you there.”

She gestured with the headphones. “That was kind of the idea. I was laying low. But then I remembered how much I hate marking and how much more fun it is talking to you.”

Travis grinned. “So, it seems you two left out a crucial piece of information when you were talking up your pal, Taylor, this morning.”

Both sets of tired eyes lit up.

“You’ve met her already?” asked Jack excitedly. “What did we leave out?”

Travis rubbed at the back of his neck, smiling shyly. “Neither of you told me she was gorgeous.”

Emma whooped. “I’m gonna get some of those cookies.”

Jack grinned, shoving his pile of papers aside and leaning back in his desk chair. “Tell us everything,” he said.

[atarathegreat]

Shota Aizawa- He's Gone

Sleep had been elusive the last month, and as a pro hero I couldn't afford to be even the slightest bit tired. Fatigue meant that I wasn't on top of my game and could be taken down. Easily.

Yet, still I sat in my living room at two in the morning, halfway through my third book. It was a hardback a friend had given me years ago, I'd probably read it a thousand times at that point. It kept me enthralled every time I picked it up, as any good book would.

"You can't sleep either?" Aizawa stepped through my window, his dark hair falling over his eyes, "Reading some more? Do you ever put the books down?"

I waved the book sarcastically in his direction, "Just staring at the cover, actually. I love the flat green and the singular flower."

He chuckled, sitting in front of my chair so he could put his head in my lap. I let my fingers tug at his hair while I read, using his head to hold the book while I turned pages. I enjoyed his company on those late nights where boredom was likely to kill you faster than villains.

For the last couple years we'd climbed through each other's windows if we couldn't sleep, more him than me. Neighbors had become nosy about him coming in through the front door and I was tired of them asking about my love life. Aizawa didn't seem to mind going through the window, though he also didn't mind the front door, as long as he was able to come in and see me.

Aizawa moved to readjust and wedged his hands between my back and the chair, tugging himself closer to my stomach. I began to tell him about the book, bored of the silence. He listened as I spoke, humming when I asked an open ended question. Normally I asked before telling him about the books, but he seemed tired and I kinda hoped that my droning on would put him to sleep.

"Can I ask you a question, Y/n?" His dark eyes searching deep in mine, "Why do we continue to act like this and not move forward?"

I knew what he meant, but I didn't want to have this conversation yet again, "I already told you, we can share my bed. We don't have to sleep out here."

He rolled his eyes, "We love each other, at least I hope we do. Why don't we do anything about it? We get so close to each other and yet we stay so far away."

"Does he still have such a grip on you?" Aizawa moved so our noses were nearly touching and his breath fanned over my face, "It's been over twenty years, Y/n."

I slammed the book down on the end table as I stood, shoving Aizawa to the side. He followed me, telling me it had been years, that Oboro was dead and I was allowed to move on. My body tensed with each and every word he said.

"I know!" My quirk cracked the kitchen countertops as soon as I touched them, "I know I can move on, Shota, but how am I supposed to let go of the guilt?"

"How am I supposed to! I was there! I could've saved him but I didn't, Y/n!" Aizawa shouted, making me flinch away from the volume and anger, "You and him would probably be happy right now if I had just moved a little faster!"

My heart sunk at his words, "So you love me out of guilt? You think I'd be happy with Oboro if he wasn't dead, so you love me through that guilt?"

In mere seconds my head was shoved into his chest, his hand holding me firmly, "Not out of guilt, never. I love you because your amazing."

The hug was crushing the oxygen out of my lungs, but somehow I still found the air to cry. Aizawa released the back of my head to hold around my back, his own silent cries making him sniffle. My hands tightened around the fabric of his shirt, my breathes coming out in huge gasps.

Of course I loved Aizawa, he was there when no one else was. Oboro being dead changed none of that. It had never changed anything for me, not my love nor my sadness.

But me being with Oboro when he died was what was holding me back. Twenty years had come and gone, Oboro was forever a teenager and I was in my thirties. The relationship I'd once had was long gone, and I was pushing away the only one I wanted.

The realization calmed my crying, but I still couldn't talk. I loved Shota, I needed him and I was the reason I didn't have him. I gripped tighter to Shota and stared into the dimly lit living room, the book shining from under the lamp.

Oboro was gone, resting peacefully, and I was holding onto the old memories of me and him. I had kept myself in that state of mind just so I didn't have to let go of him.

I pulled away and kissed Aizawa's cheek, letting my cries settle before I spoke, "Let's do it. Me and you. A couple."

Before going to bed that night I grabbed the book Oboro had gifted me years ago. A good story can keep you hooked no matter how many times you read it, and Oboro always knew how to pick the perfect ones. I rested it in its spot on my shelf, running my finger down the spine. My final silent goodbye.

Aizawa stood beside me, looking at the book as he said his own goodbye. We were great friends with Oboro and saying goodbye was the hardest thing we'd ever done. Knowing it was the final goodbye did not make it easier, for me it almost seemed more painful. Was it harder for Shota as well?

"Y'know, he'd probably kick our asses if he knew we were still mourning him." Shota chuckled, his arm finding its place around my back.

I nodded, wiping at some stray tears, "He'd definitely kick our asses for not sleeping. Come on, the sun is rising and it's my only day off."

[lovebillyhargrove]

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 17/? "Flammable"

***

"This fucking February is gonna stay for-fucking-ever and fucking everything's gonna be buried under this fucking snow," - Billy's muttering to himself, grunting with effort as he heaves another full shovel. He's done so much shoveling in the last few days, he thinks it can actually be his new life calling. If he ever gets tired of California's perpetual sunshine, he might move to Alaska and shovel snow there till the end of time.

Billy's made a couple of extra bucks this way, too - their neighbor to the right, old Mrs. Deville pays him to clean her walkway daily. Billy's kinda okay with her, she seems like a sweet old lady. He remembers, back in August, when their family first arrived in Hawkins, her garden was still full of blossoming rose bushes, and the smell they gave off was amazing.

What ?? He kinda liked the roses' scent, flooding the street. Is that a crime?

Hargrove has no idea who lives in the house to the left, it looks rundown and abandoned.

Winter and especially February in assfuck Indiana continue to constantly surprise him. Apart from usual snow, total absence of sunshine, sleet, slush, normal ice on the roads, hailstorms, freezing rains and horrible biting winds, resulting in black fucking ice - which still remains Billy's most vivid impression he'll keep in his memory for a loooong time -

Did he mention it getting dark at five fucking thirty?

Fucking icicles ?? - Billy never even knew words like that before, they weren't part of his fucking vocabulary!

It being slippery everywhere?

Frostbites? Irritating sniffles?

You name it. And what is more,

Snow starts falling every.

goddamn.

day now.

Billy was unaware of what snow shoveling even was before they moved here. He then was introduced to this exciting activity in December last year. Not that he minded it much, doing it only once in a while. But these days - when did he sign up for this shit - he has to shovel the driveway and other surfaces around the house much more often than he used to. He has to do it every day at home and during his shifts at Mr. Dailey's repair shop. Plus the nice Mrs. Deville's walkway. Billy has a feeling he's shoveling 24/fucking 7 now.

On the bright side, it can be considered as a workout, it's not that bad. Billy can swear, the muscles in his arms and torso, in fact, in his whole body, are becoming more and more defined with every passing day. Who needs barbells when nature's giving you the perfect exercise.

He looks fine as hell.

It's just that, apparently, he has also started talking to himself, like an old grumpy dude. Shoveling is monotonous as fuck.

He belongs in the loony bin.

Oh, one day Billy gets in a snow blizzard on the way home from the repair shop he works at. That's something else entirely.

There's a huge one raging in the north of the state, Hawkins is going to get only its faint echoes.

They turn out to be enough to disrupt the life of the entire town.

His boss insists that they close the shop early, before the snowstorm is supposed to hit, although Billy doesn't quite grasp what the big fucking deal is at first.

"Kid, go home. You and your car won't do shit in what's about to come."

Do I have to? I don't wanna

"Tomorrow you don't have a shift, right? I'm pretty sure we're gonna be closed."

When Billy's approaching Cherry Lane, the snowstorm overtakes him. It's only the beginning but

That's some truly devilish shit.

The wind is already very strong and is picking up its speed by the second. When Billy climbs out of the camaro, holding the door so it doesn't fly the fuck away, he can't even open his eyes properly because snow is getting blown into his face, not letting him see anything.

He has to literally fight his way to the entrance.

Later on the wind turns to be more severe, and the storm is even more intense. The whole house is shaking.

Fucking weather.

Max is excited, the shitbird. She peeks into Billy's room late in the evening with a frightened expression on her face, like she's in awe of what's happening outside.

"School's gonna be closed tomorrow."

"Says who?"

"It was in the news. They are expecting more than 6 inches of snow, and they won't be able to clean all the roads in time."

"Great. Now shut the damn door."

Max is lingering in the doorway

"Aren't you scared?"

"It's just snow and wind."

"Do you think it can blow our house away?"

Billy snorts

Would've been interesting

"No, Max. It's not that strong."

How old is she, for fuck's sake. What is this "Wizard of Oz" bullshit.

Max is still standing there.

"Go sleep. It's gonna be fine in the morning."

***

Max was right. Billy's munching on cornflakes and listening to the morning news. No school. There's at least eight inches of snow covering the roads.

Billy was right, too. The weather's good in the morning. The blizzard died down during the night, and Billy has three options now: to clean his room, do homework for next week or grab a fucking shovel.

Neil leaves him no options.

Chop chop, son. You know what to do.

When Billy steps out of the house

First, it's like his eyes get slashed.

It's too bright.

Second, when his eyesight more or less adjusts to all the light, Billy loses his breath for a second.

It's unbelievable.

Everything is covered with a white glistening blanket. The sky is the bluest blue, it's clear and cloudless and

The sun. After weeks of hiding behind the clouds

The sun is finally out.

The sharp pain in his eyes fades away, but he's squinting cause the sparkling snow, the radiant sun, the cerulean sky - it's too much, it still blurs his vision. There is no wind, it's quiet and peaceful. As if the nature has let all its rage out and has calmed itself down.

Wow.

It's .. magical.

Like, really.

The news people weren't kidding. It looks like all fucking eight inches. The temperature is around 29 F, and the snow hasn't started melting yet, but with this sunshine, it's gonna get warmer soon, which means the snow will get heavier.

There is no camaro standing in the driveway. There's a full-ass-size mockup model of his camaro made of snow. It looks cool. Means more work for Billy, but who cares. Neil parked his Buick in the garage yesterday. Of course.

Billy puts his face up to the sun. It feels warm, like he's seeing an old friend.

He gets a sudden idea - he can actually call his buddy in California right the fuck now, tell him about the snow. He tried calling him once a couple of weeks ago, but no-one answered. Billy has some change in the pockets, it won't buy him a long conversation, but he wants to hear his friend's voice, even if for a minute. He sticks the shovel in the snow heap and walks to the payphone. There is one a couple of blocks down.

Billy doesn't simply walk. He makes holes in the snow with his boots, every step it's like falling down a little, but the solid ground has got him, it doesn't let him fall any further.

Hargrove opens the phone booth door with difficulty cause of all the snow blocking it, picks the receiver up. He knows Nick's number by heart. The line beeps and his friend - Billy recognizes the voice in an instant - picks up

"Hello?"

"Hey, Nick."

"Hey .. oh my god. Holy shit, Billy ??"

"Yeah."

Billy has missed his past life so much, he's smiling and wants to cry and wants to be there, where his friend's voice is.

"Billy, it that you? You've disappeared off the face of the earth, why didn't you call?"

And before Hargrove can answer the question

"When are you coming back?"

"I was uh .. thinking, July?"

"But you wanted to hit the dust the moment you get your diploma?"

"Yeah I just .."

"Wait, did you find someone there?"

"No, fuck off! No, that's .."

That's an impossible notion

"Tell me the name!"

"Nick, it's not .. you know me, I'm not uh .. looking for anything like that. I just wanna save enough money before heading back, you know .. for my own place and shit."

"But you're crashing with me for the first couple of weeks, right? Till you're all settled?"

"That still on?"

"Of course."

Billy wants to cry even more.

"How are you and Kelly doing?"

"We've been great. Going to prom together."

Ah, yes. The prom. Being in a relationship means you get excited about stuff like that. Thank god it's not Billy's case.

"Good."

To be honest, he'd die to go to prom with his friends in San Diego. Get stinking drunk, get soaring high? Do something outrageously stupid?

"Kel's been asking about you, why you never call."

"Yeah it's like uhm .. new place and .. busy. You can't even imagine how much snow I've shoveled in the last few days. Like .. it's fucking everywhere. They cancelled school today because of it, can you believe it?"

Nick is laughing, bright and happy, and Billy wants to run, run, run there. Away from here.

"The fuck is this, man! Hey uh .." Nick's voice is getting more serious. "How are things with you and your dad?"

"It's fine. Yeah .. it's okay."

"Okay."

"Why are you at home? Aren't you supposed to be at school yourself?"

"Yeah .. Jack got sick, parents are at work, I'm babysitting. Fuck, I just need to make it till graduation, man."

Jack is Nick's little brother. He's three or something.

Nick isn't exactly doing good at school. Doesn't make him a lesser friend.

"Graduation is just around the corner. You'll make it, come on."

"Yeah."

"Hey I think we're gonna be disconnected. Was nice hearing your voice, man. I'll call again soon. Say hi to everyone from me."

"Just don't disappear completely, like maybe you can leave your phone number where I ca .."

Beep beep beep

Billy puts the receiver back and walks out of the phone booth. He's not in a hurry. He's walking slowly, eyes half closed from all the dazzle, the brilliance.

Billy's still keeping his face up, gentle winter sunrays caressing his skin.

He's smiling.

Summer's on the way.

***

Saturday night is Valentine's Day party at Andy's house. There's this special buzz in the air that's sending out a warning - it's gonna be wild and everyone is gonna get hammered tonight. Kids haven't had a party for ages, they've been staying at home with parents and siblings for two days straight cause of the blizzard, and tomorrow is still the weekend. It was a close call, with Andy's parents considering delaying their trip to visit friends due to the storm but thank heavens, gods have been merciful to the Hawkins youth. They let them have their fun, Andy's mom and dad leaving on Saturday early in the morning. Major roads have been cleaned by then, parents have a beast of a truck, and it's good that they are going south where there's less snow.

Billy arrives late.

After the shift he does some - yaay. - shoveling, he has shoveled the whole goddamn Cherry fucking Lane already, and then he takes his time in the shower and in front of the mirror. Billy decides on wearing dark grey jeans with a couple of rips on the thighs and a navy blue button down, just a teeny bit tight, it's a slim fit, hugging his biceps, waist and chest just right. Even though it's winter Hargrove leaves three buttons undone.

Fuck, does he look great. Like candy. As always, though. Billy's puffing his lips a bit, ogling his own reflection. He'd kiss himself on the sexy mouth if he could. He'd definitely totally fuck himself if he had an opportunity.

Billy is afraid Neil's gonna give him crap about something but, luckily, his dad's watching a baseball game and drinking beer, Susan is sitting close to him on the couch, flipping through cookery magazines - domestic fucking bliss - and Billy doesn't exactly notify anyone that he's leaving.

Maybe, once in a lifetime, Neil's pleased with all Billy's fucking shoveling. Maybe he just doesn't give a shit about his son tonight.

Either way, Billy gets dressed, goes out of his room, grabs the jacket, opens the front door quietly and is out of the house. He's walking towards his car that he has wisely parked down the street.

Like hell he is not going to that party.

He wants to see Harrington.

Remember?

A party means there's is a chance we are alone in a room, pretty boy. Just you and me.

When he gets to Andy's house, the night is already in full swing.

As soon as he opens the door,

Like a virgin

Comes blasting

Touched for the very first time

Like a virgin

When your heart beats next to mine

Billy also hears Roy's voice bellowing somewhere close "Pure fire! Whoo!"

He's drunkenly stumbling out of the kitchen in front of Billy

"Hey man, you got any vodka on you? I'm trying to carry out an experiment."

That guy is definitely a virgin.

"Nah." Billy moves past the funny dude. What has he got on his mind tonight.

It's Valentine's. Love is in the air. There are red heart shaped balloons floating around.

Everyone's drunk. Kissing couples are everywhere. Music's incredibly loud and setting the right mood.

You’re So Fine

And You’re Mine

Make Me Strong

Yeah You Make Me Bold

"Billyyy !! Finally, where have you beeeen?"

Jennifer's bright red lips are aiming for his mouth

but he turns his face away, getting kissed on the cheek instead.

God, she's plastered already.

For some reason Billy's not psyched about kissing her tonight.

He's got someone else on his mind. Billy's scanning the dancing crowd. There's a bubbling sensation in his belly and a weird feeling as if his lungs are drawn tight, not letting him take a breath with a full chest

His eyes

Searching searching searching

Where is he?

Harrington is in the living room, playing beer pong with the guys. He and Tommy are teamed up against Andy and Danny. The two teams are neck and neck, and whoever scores a victory, they're gonna win by a nose.

Steve's wearing dark blue jeans and a toffee brown light sweater. His hair is styled to perfection. He looks like expensive caramel that you wanna take in your mouth and suck on. Roll around with your tongue, listening to its gentle clickety-click on the teeth.

The pretty boy is busy. Alright.

There's a group of teens - mostly juniors and seniors whose hearts aren't taken by anyone in particular - playing "Cupid's Arrow" that's just like a Valentine's version of Spin the bottle. Billy's too old for that.

Besides, Jennifer is hanging on his arm.

"Babyyy, let's go dance!"

Hargrove grabs a can of beer, shotguns it cause he needs alcohol in his system, fast, and they get in the middle of the chaotically moving mish-mash.

***

After some dancing, drinking the second can of beer and getting handsy with his Valentine, Hargrove notices that King Steve has decided to join the rhythm-crazed crowd. He's not alone, of course, the red haired chick's following him everywhere. Are they like, official boyfriend and girlfriend now? Has Billy missed some gossip?

I don't know what you've got but it plays with my emotions

I want you so much

Darling I want to hold you near

Want to whisper sweet and tender in your ear

Well, it is Valentine's, so the music's all sentimental cheesy trash

Can't stand the thought of you with somebody else

Got to have your love got to have it all to myself

I say yeah yeah yeah yeah

Billy is smiling at Jennifer. It's not like he's already drunk, but the rush and the excitement are getting into his bloodstream. Also things got a bit more thrilling with Harrington dancing just a couple of feet away. Billy can't help it, it's like he's radio tuned onto him, his head starts whirring as soon as the asshole gets close

Want to be your lover lover

Want to be your lover lover lover boy

All of a sudden Billy feels someone's back fucking .. rubbing on his. It's like .. okay, the living room is packed and sometimes you touch a body, and a body touches you, but this .. this was done intentionally

Billy's turning his head slightly to see who's so cocky here, crossing the border, invading his space

He sees Harrington's caramel sweater right behind him. It looks like the dude's just dancing, all innocent and focused on his date.

It is crowded.

Too far gone it's hard to stop

Baby you're my dream in motion and I won't give up

Teasing me with your fire

The moment Hargrove thinks it's all in his mind, Steve's getting closer again and his shoulder blades are lined up with Billy's

He feels Harrington's heat

Which spreads all over Billy's body like wildfire

Fuck fuck FUCK

The fuck he's doing

Your're the one I desire

Got to have your tenderness all to myself

Hargrove remembers those couple of seconds when Steve was on the gym floor, and Billy was hovering over the guy, clutching his hand - that moment when he was twitching from head to toe as though he was being tasered

Is Harrington feeling it now too? Or is it only Billy?

The heat is gone, and then it's back again

Hargrove's between heaven and hell.

Want to be your lover lover lover boy

They keep dancing like that, backs touching occasionally. There's nothing weird about that, no-one's gonna pay any attention, the floor is a tight space.

I want to be your love

Gotta have your love

And I can't stand it

Who the fuck is responsible for the music tonight.

Oh no the dumb song's finishing, but the one that's coming up seems to be even worse

It's a ballad, so it means that they're gonna do a slow dance. Ugh, shit goddamnit. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to come to this party after all.

It's not fun, it's fucking torture. Billy is pulling Jennifer closer - guess it's walk the walk and talk the talk - and she's wrapping her arms around his neck, her tits pressed tight against his chest.

I gotta take a little time

A little time to think things over

Do they have to romantically look into each other's eyes for the whole damn dance? Bleh, Billy never liked the slow ones. Get drunk, let the energy out on the dance floor, suck face, get a release, done. Go home, sleep like a baby.

Through the clouds I see love shine

It keeps me warm as life grows colder

Thank god Jennifer is resting her head on Billy's shoulder now, he doesn't have to stare at her face anymore. He quickly looks around and

Sees Harrington and his new girl kissing.

Passionately.

There's another kind of fire whipping through Hargrove. It doesn't just burn, it turns everything black and toxic

Just like that, with a snap of the fingers, Billy's mood is ruined.

The song's getting worse.

I want to know what love is

I want you to show me

The crowd of wasted teenagers are chanting along

Christ al-fucking-mighty, when is it gonna finish

I wanna feel what love is

I know you can show me

Jennifer's hands are sliding over Billy's shoulders, down his back. All over his ass.

Okay, uh .. he needs a break. His dick is hard but it's not because he's getting felt up by the girl in his arms. He needs a breath of fresh air.

I've got nowhere left to hide

It looks like love has finally found me

"Honey, I'll be back in a second."

Bathroom break. Or something.

I wanna feel what love is, no, you just cannot hide

The words of the stupid song are chasing Billy as he's hurrying up the stairs.

***

He's in the bathroom, behind the closed door, looking at himself in the mirror.

What did you expect, huh? What exactly did you expect, fool? That you're gonna come to the party, and the moment you cross your eyes with his majesty, you're gonna go upstairs together and jump into bed?

Billy's scoffing at his naivety. He opens cold water, washes his face.

Life seldom gives you what you really want.

It's pointless. Him having any kind of expectations for this stupid party is ridiculous.

On his way out of the bathroom, Billy decides to sneak into a quiet room and have a smoke. Alone. A couple of rooms are locked, probably already occupied by horny couples, and there's one at the end of the hallway, that turns out to be open, dark, and empty. Perfect. It's Mr. Goldman's study, obviously. Billy's not gonna make a mess. He just wants to have some quiet time. He opens the window, finds an ashtray on the mahogany desk and lights up a cigarette.

He can still hear the music booming downstairs. The night is dark and the air, flowing through the open window, is nippy and sobering.

What does Billy want? To kiss King Steve again? What for? How many kissing sessions will be enough? Does he want to do something more with him? Is Harrington even up for it? He seems happy with his new girlfriend.

What more does Billy want? To touch Steve's dick? To suck his dick? How far is he willing to go? Billy's not even sure himself.

It all started with the itch, with the contempt, with the hostility. It transformed into this vague want, the want for what ?

It's not worth the trouble. Billy has nothing in this suburban town that he's having a remotely strong feeling about. No strings attached. Nothing to miss when he's gonna be driving away from here.

Let it stay this way.

Hargrove's finishing the cigarette. He needed this clarity.

He opens the door and bumps into Harrington who's loitering in the hallway. The hell he's doing here? Waiting in line for the bathroom? Waiting in line for a free room to get his hands up that girl's skirt?

Without any warning, Steve's grabbing Billy's hand, and dragging him back into the study, where it's still dark and empty and .. cold. Sobering. Harrington clicks the lock and Hargrove is suddenly pressed against the wall.

Lyrics of a song from downstairs are reverberating through the room. You can actually make out the words up here, Billy just zoned out completely when he was alone thinking

It wouldn’t hurt her if she didn’t know, cause

When it gets too much

I need to feel your touch

"Why didn't you call?"

The fuck Harrington wants?

Steve is looking at him like a lunatic

I'm gonna run to you

Billy's holding the frenzied gaze. One more second, and he's gonna push Harrington's away, put an end to whatever this is

"Didn't feel like it."

Steve's not saying anything anymore, he straight up tries kissing Billy's lips

He's wasted. The way he just goes for it, is unhinged

He smells like alcohol and lust

I’m gonna run to you

I’m gonna run to you

Cause when the feelin’s right I’m gonna run all night

Billy's dodging the kisses. Steve's hands are sliding up and down his abs

"Stop being a priss, Hargrove. Don't you wanna have a little fun?"

Harrington's voice is hoarse and so sexy

But you’re the one that always turns me on

You keep me comin' round

"Thanks, I don't want leftovers." Billy's standing like a rock, King Steve can't honeycomb or sweet talk him into anything tonight.

"What?" Harrington's whispering on an exhale

And a second later, almost mockingly, with a smirk

"Are you jealous ?"

Eyebrows raised high.

Billy's glaring at Harrington. He has just talked some sense into himself to keep all his unclear urges in check, why is this motherfucker making all his efforts go to waste?

What the fuck !??

Billy digs his fingers in that soft caramel sweater that wraps Harrington's slender figure so elegantly

Takes full fists of it

I’m gonna run to you

I’m gonna run to you

In a flash, it's Harrington whose back hits the wall, hard

He's wincing from the unexpected pain

"Listen, fuckhead. I don't know what your game is, but I don't like it. Stay the fuck away from me, I've had enough."

Hargrove articulates every word clearly, hoping that all of them will sink in King Steve's carefree brain.

Billy slams him against the wall again, just to get the message across, once and for all, then lets him go, unlocks the door and leaves Steve alone in the dark room

Run to you?

More like run from you.

***

The party is still raging but Billy's not in the mood for dancing anymore. He makes himself comfortable on the couch downstairs and lights another Marlboro. There are people around, and a minute later Jennifer finds him, sits close and asks for a cigarette.

Hargrove's throwing his head back and takes his time inhaling and exhaling the bitter smoke, watching it go up. It calms him down.

A couple of minutes later Harrington drops on the armchair standing near the couch, the red-haired girl sitting on his lap. They are making out, tongue and all, giggling stupid

Steve's kissing Nicole, hands gliding over her legs, but has his eyes fixed on Billy. The king is so drunk, he's not even subtle about it.

Billy's dick stirs in his jeans, and Jennifer's hand explicitly touches his thigh

"Let's go upstairs?"

Billy's suddenly tired. Physically. Of fucking everything. Maybe it's all the shoveling, taking its toll on him. He's exhausted and he wants out of here. It's time to go.

"I'll go get a beer."

Jennifer keeps Hargrove under surveillance as he's walking in the direction of the kitchen.

There, in the kitchen, a special kind of entertainment is about to unfold. A fire show, apparently. Roy is trying to ignite fucking punch. Like, literally. He's been calling it "fire" the whole evening, so at some point he decided it's okay to try to light it up. Tina is shouting

"Someone, get a fire extinguisher! He's gonna burn the house down!"

Some people are laughing, some are waiting for the whole bowl to go up in flames

Roy is sticking a torch lighter in the punch bowl, but nothing burns. He then opens a bottle of vodka and is pouring it into the mixture

"For the sake of science!"

"Stop freaking spiking it, Roy!" Someone's shouting and the guy stops, tries setting it on fire again.

The experiment fails. Of course. What a stupid ass.

Billy can't watch this clown.

"Dunston, you dumbass, it won't work. The drink will catch fire if it's minimum 40 per cent alcohol in volume. Pure vodka will burn, as will rum, absinthe or tequila. Or whiskey."

Billy grabs the half full bottle of vodka, finds two clean shot glasses and fills them up

"Hit the lights. Usually vodka burns a clear blue flame, but it's not too bright."

There's still enough light coming from the living room for everyone to see what's happening. Billy takes out his usual lighter, sets one shot on fire, then the second. He's right, the fire's not very strong, but there are two beautiful light blue rings on the kitchen table.

"Alright. On the count of three, cover the glass with your hand to extinguish the fire, and as soon as it's out, drink up, you got it?"

Roy's nodding.

"Won't it burn?"

"A little. I'm doing it with you, man."

"One, two, three, go!"

Hargrove puts his hand over the shot and then downs it in a flash. The vodka is hot, it goes down like molten glass

Roy's still standing there with his unsure hand over the second shot.

Fucking pussy.

"Seriously, Dunston?"

"I tried, dude, I almost did it, but it fucking burnt my palm!"

"Hold the glass."

Billy's putting his own hand over the flame

"Now drink!"

Roy's gulping it like a champ but then comes

"Owww !! I burnt my tongue! Fuck! It's hot! Or my throat! I don't know! It hurts !!"

Jesus fucking christ

What a town of pussies.

"Ow ow ow! Someone, call 911!"

"Are you out of your mind, Roy ?? We're all drunk here!" That's Tina again

No need to call 911.

Hargrove is taking Dunston by the shoulder

"Come one, man. I'm driving you to the hospital."

Roy's looking at him in disbelief.

"You would?"

Perfect excuse

For Billy to leave the party early.

They are passing Jennifer

"You know how you're getting home?"

"Yeah." She looks disappointed. Not Billy's problem.

They get outside, Roy's holding a hand over his mouth

"Oh my god, dude! Am I gonna get a third degree burn? Am I gonna get a tissue transplant?"

"Yeah, definitely. Shut up, Dunston. Get in the fucking car."

What a wuss, jesus. Hargrove starts the camaro and they get going.

"Where's the hospital?"

"Uh .. on Main Street? Like .. ten minutes from here. Ow."

Billy turns the cassette player on. "Seek and destroy" by Metallica starts playing.

He just wants to get home.

After about five minutes Roy looks at Billy like a puppy and says faint-heartedly

"Uhm .. Hargrove? I'm actually uh .. feeling much better, bro."

What the fuck?

"Don't fucking bro me."

"Huh?"

Billy's considering stopping the car and kicking Roy's ass out, leaving him on the side of the road

"Can we just drive back to Andy's?"

"Are you fucking kidding me, Dunston?"

Billy's taking a deep breath.

Sure. I'll drive you back. Only because it works out for me, buddy.

It's actually great. Much better than going all the way to the fucking hospital. He'll get home quicker and he'll still bail the party.

Billy's turning the camaro around, the back of the car drifts into a huge pile of snow. Roy's face turns sour

"Hey, asshat. Don't even think about puking in my car."

Roy is throwing a fearful glance at Billy

"Dude. I'm not an animal."

Billy drops Roy off and heads home. Jennifer must be pissed at him. Of course she is. He ditched the party, he didn't deliver, didn't bring her home.

Whatever.

***

Billy is stopping in Cherry Lane, but at a distance to their house. He's taking out a cigarette. The lighter clicks, and there's this distinct sound of tobacco crackling when the drag is especially deep and delicious. It's quiet, and he's not turning the music back on.

Is that disappointment? Hargrove was waiting for this party to get his hands on Harrington once again, and he had the chance, why the fuck did he say no?

He saw them kissing and, somehow, that was tonight's game changer.

Billy's fucking

Jealous ?

Steve asked him if he was. Mockingly. It was what, funny to him?

Is that what it is?

Billy's not jealous. It's not jealousy, it's just that .. it irks him, to see Harrington's arm coiled around some girl's waist, his tongue sliding in and out of her mouth. It's ..

FUCK !! He hits the steering wheel, once, twice, three times, grabs it so tight, his knuckles hurt

What the fuck is happening? He doesn't want any of that. God, why .. the moment Billy thinks he's in control, something reminds him that's he is, in fact, not.

What a bunch of bullshit.

***

***

Looks like while all senior students of Hawkins high were having fun on Valentine's Day, Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers had something else going on.

It's Barb's funeral on Wednesday.

On Monday Steve gets up and gets down for breakfast to find his mom listening to the morning news.

" .. Ms. Holland's almost decomposed body was found in the woods more than half a year after her vanishing. The police haven't closed the case yet, but despite the major breakthrough, there is, unfortunately, no accurate information about what happened in June 1984.Theories have emerged among Hawkins citizens that this gruesome death could be connected with a leak of toxic substances from Hawkins laboratory, but the laboratory management and city authorities call such rumours unfounded and causing unreasonable panic. The police are leaning towards the version of a wild animal attack, however, the circumstances still remain unclear. Barbara Holland's funeral will take place on Wednesday, February 19th."

Thank god his mom is at home right now. Steve feels an unpleasant chill running down his back and fear beginning to stir inside him.

"Honey, are you going to go?"

"Yes, mom. I think I should."

At school Steve finds his ex-girlfriend who he hasn't talked to in ages.

"Hey uh .. Barb's funeral?"

"Are you going to come?"

"Yeah .. yeah of course."

He didn't know the girl well, just .. really, just her name. But he's connected to the whole story, he feels like he needs to do it.

Steve also has the right to know what went down. Since he's actually in on the supernatural stuff going on in Hawkins.

"Do you want to tell me more about it?"

"I can. But not right here. Meet me and Jonathan after school?"

"Yeah."

Tommy sees them talking and looks at him strange.

Hagan wants to catch up after classes, dish about the party and this and that, but Steve tells him he needs to take some notes from Nancy, so no. Steve suspects Tommy is feeling a lie in his words but there won't be any open confrontation this time.

"I'll drop by your place later, alright?"

Tommy's fine with that.

"Sure."

Nicole isn't talking to him cause, as far as Steve remembers, she's pissed at him for flirting with Tammy Thompson at the party. He may be guilty as charged. By the end of it, he got drunk to the point of unconsciousness and passed out on Andy's couch.

Bummer.

***

Steve later learns that Nancy and Jonathan - with Hopper's and Mrs. Byers' help, apparently, - found Barb's body in the Upside Down.

What's Upside Down?

Lucky you, if you don't know. Cause Steve does now, and the knowledge doesn't make him any happier.

Nancy seems more at peace. Like she's finally found closure.

"I've uh .. actually wanted to ask .. Who else knows about this thing? This whole thing? The other dimension and the monsters?"

"Just us and .. some kids, but that's it."

Us, okay.

"Wait, you said, kids ??"

"Yes, Steve."

It's a highly confidential matter, and some frigging kids know about it?

It all started with Will, Jonathan's brother because he was kept in the Upside Down for a week. Mike, Nancy's brother, knows it cause he's Will's best friend. A couple of more of their friends as well, because they are very tight, it's like their gang or something, and they all helped free Mike from the Demogorgon.

"Demogorgon, that monster ..? Are there others?"

No-one knows, they hope not, but they aren't sure. Can never be sure with supernatural stuff like that.

Steve gets it. Later during the day he visits Tommy, they stay in his room talking and Harrington feels a bit normal again.

On Wednesday, a quiet grey day, he attends the funeral. There aren't many people.

A couple of girls from school that used to be Barb's friends. Inconsolable parents. Chief Hopper and Joyce Byers. Nancy and Jonathan. Mrs. Wheeler and some Hawkins moms that are friends of family. The priest, Mr. Jones.

Steve's been at funerals before, when his grandparents passed away. He was little at that time, and didn't understand much.

He's never been at a funeral of a person his age.

It feels wrong.

Abnormal. Like something went very wrong in the way the world is supposed to work.

There are some unpleasant looking people Steve has never seen before. They are all dressed in black, and they all look like they don't have a heart. These ones are definitely from the government. Steve hopes he'll never see them again.

He's been doing so good lately, but of course, all of this is having its impact on him.

They are all prey.

Life and death, they walk hand in hand. You never know what's waiting for you around the corner. It's terrifying.

***

It's Friday evening. The week has been a lot. Having looked into death's ugly face, Steve wants to feel alive.

Steve could call Nicole, but she's angry at him. He doesn't want to apologize for nothing and listen to her mindless chatter.

He could meet up with Tommy but he can't share with his best friend the stuff he wants to. He can't talk with anyone about what happened, except for the people who are already in on the whole secret. Half of these people are, apparently, kids whose existence Steve has a very vague idea of, his ex-girlfriend, who has a new boyfriend, and Harrington doesn't have any desire to see either of them.

Hopper and Mrs. Byers are adults.

He knows who might make him feel good again, give him that special thrill. Like a jolt of electricity. Like a pull, to bring him back to the surface.

Seeing Hargrove doesn't require a conversation. They've only exchanged not more than a hundred phrases in total in what .. half a year? For the most part, they were insults and names. The closest the boys were to having a usual talk was at Christmas, and it was super brief anyway.

Steve doesn't need to talk with him.

What he wants is to be close to him, for a moment.

Some inexplicable strength and .. integrity emanate from Hargrove. When Steve's in his vicinity, it flows over him, like a tide. His broad shoulders, wide palms, the strong bull-like neck. Steve wants to bury his face in his neck and just breathe. Breathe in his scent. Feed on his energy.

They don’t need to talk for this and, if you come to think of it, there’s nothing for them to have a conversation about, really. Hargrove is not his friend. He's just a passerby, stopping in Steve's town for a year and then probably leaving in an unknown direction.

***

It's already late, and most likely, Mr. Dailey's garage is gonna be closing soon. Steve can ask about uhm .. Hargrove's shifts. Old man won't get suspicious or anything, Steve will just say that uh .. he was impressed with Billy's work and wanted to bring his friend's car for a check. Something like that.

Harrington goes to the repair shop. As he's driving closer, he spots Hargrove's Camaro, parked outside. Steve's not nervous, not at all. Just didn't expect Billy to actually be there. Maybe that's luck. Steve reaches for the glove compartment and takes something from there.

He gets out of his car, walks up to the open door. His heart is beating faster than usual.

"Hello? Mr. Dailey?"

Hargrove is crouching near the wheel of an old dodge pick-up. There's also a ford escort standing nearby. Steve leans on it.

Billy's standing up slowly.

"I'm closing up. Mr. Dailey went home."

"Oh. Hey. He trusts you that much?"

"You wanted to talk to him?"

"No. I mean, yes."

Billy's getting hot under Harrington's stare.

"What do you want?"

"I was thinking .. my car needs an oil change."

Harrington probably doesn't know anything about cars beyond having its oil changed regularly. However, it seems he has no idea how often if should be done.

He's such a dumbass, he's so pretty, it's infuriating.

Standing there in his unzipped jacket, hands in pockets, hair all slicked back in waves. Looking too clean, too neat, a fucking rich pampered baby. Billy's wearing his coveralls, he smells like machine oil, a grease monkey

"You don't need a change. I did it like two weeks ago."

"I know."

Billy looks Steve straight in the eye, and Harrington stops blinking.

"So what do you want, Harrington?"

Steve's gaze rakes over Billy's face and stops at his lips

"You know what I want."

Fucking hell. Billy's blood runs cold. And then, a second later, it runs fucking hot, like fiery lava.

Those lips drawing him in

Like a vortex

Harrington took him by surprise, Billy wasn't prepared to see him here

He's taken off guard. That's why

He fucking hopelessly wants to kiss the lips.

Why is he so weak for this bitch?

He's also absolutely not ready for this. Like this. Out in the open, he's not drunk, he's not initiating it. Harrington's taking the reigns, and Billy's knees wobble.

He came all the way down here for this.

Drove across town for this.

Billy turns around, wiping his hands on a piece of cloth, goes to his jacket, hanging on a peg, and takes out a joint.

"Wanna split?"

"Sure."

"Can't smoke in here."

"My car? I forgot to turn the engine off, it's uh .. warm in there?"

You forgot to turn the engine off, who does that.

They get in the backseat of Steve's beamer. It feels weird. Billy's fingers are shaking when he's lighting the joint.

Like a virgin

Touched for the very first time

He passes it to Harrington and their fingers brush lightly

His whole body jerks.

"I told you to stay away from me."

"When?" Steve throws his head back a little, taking a drag, holding the blunt with his long delicate fingers

Billy's watching his Adam's apple go up and down. He wants to know how it'll move under his lips, under his tongue

"Valentine's?"

"I uh .. I think I drank too much that night. Couldn't remember much in the morning."

That kinda explains his visit.

"Why should I stay away from you?"

There's a faint smile on Harrington's lips

Billy doesn't answer.

He's at a crossroads. He's inhaling the bittersweet smoke.

Hargrove can once again tell Steve to fuck off. Bust his nose if he's gonna be dense about it.

Or he can see how far he, Billy, is willing to go.

Their fingers keep grazing when they pass each other the joint, and Billy's heart keeps on pumping blood into his dick. His abdomen aches.

It's almost finished, Billy takes the last drag, and then one more, burning his finger pads, cracks the door open to throw what's left of it on the ground and the moment he's closing the door and turning to Harrington

Steve throws himself at Billy

Their teeth clash

And they don't kiss first

They bite.

It's becoming gentler, both of them close their eyes, the kisses are deeper, the hands are braver

How far is Billy willing to go?

Harrington's hands are all over his body

Feeling, squeezing

Steve lets out the most pathetic whine

And Billy's putting his palm on Harrington's crotch

He is so fucking hard.

He needs him under.

Hargrove grabs Steve by the shoulders and now it's Billy who's pressing him into the seat. Of course, it's cramped, of course, it's uncomfortable, but neither of them gives a fuck because both

Are burning.

Billy unbuckles the belt and unbuttons Steve's pants - just like in his dream, just like he's been imagining it. He slides the zipper down and Harrington is bucking his thighs up, trying to bring his pants down a bit

Hargrove's impatient. He gets his hand into Steve's underwear

Like he wanted to

Into the heat

Oh my god

Into the slightly sweaty hairy heat

Billy's feeling dizzy, he has no control whatsoever - what fucking control, he has none

He's spinning on ice

The last coherent thought that's flashing through his mind is

He's making a mistake. That's for sure.

Yet the chemical reaction has been set in motion and Billy's about to catch blaze.

He suddenly stops but Steve looks at him with those pools of darkness, whispers

"Come on .."

And Billy .. he gives in, completely.

He is slowly, gently, taking the other boy's hard dick in his hand, making the sensation register in his mind

Then grips it tight, and gentle caress yields to confident roughness

He's holding Steve's dick

Like his own when he's jerking off.

It's fucking cramped, but it's also so hot, in the backseat of King Steve's car

Billy's moving his hand up and down, relentless and quick, and his lips find Steve's again

They are kissing, kissing so wild, sucking on each other's tongues,

A mix of their smells. Perfumes, machine oil, cigarettes, weed, mint gum, sweat ..

Billy wants to crush him under his weight

And Harrington doesn't seem to mind, oh no, the guy is a needy bitch, because he's pulling, pulling him down, on top of himself, like he wants Hargrove to cover him whole

The warmth of Steve's dick, the wetness, the absolutely deranging tenderness of skin

It's all ..

Oh god

Billy's trying to give himself some friction with his right hand

And, really, they both don't need a lot of time

He could count the minutes by the fingers of one hand only. Or even seconds. He's not sure

He feels Harrington's body twitch and shudder, his moans getting stuck in his throat

He stops kissing Billy, throws his head back and Hargrove gets to stare at the dancing Adam's apple again

Billy's palm is covered in Harrington's hot cum, and that sensation pushes him down the cliff

His own body jerks uncontrollably

And it's .. it's quick and

It's over, and Hargrove's backing up, wiping his hand on the coveralls, opening the door because he needs air

He sees a pack of Parliament on the front passenger's seat and he's reaching for it, taking a cigarette out, he needs to give his fingers sometimes to do, they are back to shaking

And Billy fucking hates it,

Since when did he become such a trembling pile of jello?

"Give me one."

Billy's not sure how to look at Steve's face again.

Like a virgin

He does, look. He's not a coward. He gives him a cigarette and even clicks the lighter for him, regretting it immediately because Steve looks

Fucking royal. Like Billy's just serviced the King.

Reclining in the seat, so relaxed, so .. so fucking pretty, with the puffy bruised lips

With hair a mess and zipper still down, and black underwear on display

FUUUUCK

"Hey, do you still have my number?"

Billy's shrugging his wide shoulders like he can't really remember, like it's not important

"No, I don't think so."

They smoke in silence.

They get out of the car, first Billy, then Steve.

Harrington is zipping up and closing the belt. Billy slams the door of the beamer

"What did you do with the note?"

"I put it in my fucking secret journal where I write poems and keep wilted flowers and shit, Harrington. How the fuck should I know? I don't keep trash. Probably threw it away."

Harrington purses his lips. Looks a bit offended.

It's fucking awkward.

Billy heads inside the garage. He's not gonna say bye or any stupid shit like that. In the garage he gets down on one knee, the front of his underwear wet and sticky, starts putting the tools away. He hopes Steve's gonna go now, and he's relieved to hear the sound of the beamer taking off.

***

Billy needs to change his clothes, close the place up, check the lights and stuff. He's not gonna think of anything now. He's not gonna think of anything ever. He's still fucking blushing, cheeks running feverish

Like a virgin

He still thinks it was a mistake. A delicious, much wanted mistake.

Billy goes into the back room, undresses, takes off the underwear and wipes his belly and pubes with it. Puts his usual clothes on, jeans feeling cold on his naked ass and balls. Grabs the dirty boxer briefs, turns the lights in the room off.

Heads for the door, takes the jacket off the peg, stuffs the underwear in its pocket. Looks around to check if everything's okay, hits the light switch, locks the place up. Normally his boss is the last one to leave but tonight his wife called him home earlier, some family stuff, Billy didn't pry.

***

When Billy's back home, he takes the jacket to his room. He closes the door, digs into the jacket pocket, pulls out the underwear and together with it, a piece of paper falls out. Billy tosses the briefs on his bedside table and picks up

A note.

Déjà vu.

A phone number in black ink

And

FUCKING CALL ME

In capital letters now.

Billy's scoff is full of contempt

He's sitting down on his bed, holding the paper

Again? Steve has done the same move with the note, again ??

What a stupid dork. Lame game, amigo

When did he even find time to slide it into Billy's jacket?

Fucking sneaky asshole

If it's so lame, why is it working?

Cause look at Billy smiling.

The second time this week, no less.

Stupid Harrington. The motherfucker is even kinda .. cute. Sometimes.

Oh my fucking god.

A spoiled rich boy who's sexy, mean, pretty and .. fucking cute now. And never leaving Billy's mind. Despite all his attempts to keep a clear mind about it.

Harrington shows up and leaves a mess.

It's a problem.

What's worse, it looks like the problem isn't going away, isn't resolving itself. It's taking even deeper roots.

So many things in goddamnforsaken Hawkins that Billy's never had the experience of dealing with.

Like jerking off King Steve in the backseat of his beamer.

He's not gonna think about ramifications of his actions.

Shower and sleep.

Hargrove cums again in the shower recalling tonight's sensations. It wasn't enough, he doesn't feel satisfied. In fact, he's feeling hornier than ever.

[everythingeverywheresblog]

Stars and Migraines - Chapter two

Chapter two

“Question for Daniel; How are you feeling with the car this year? The two first practice sessions seemed promising enough, do you think you could bring home more than one win this season?” Everyone erupts into a synchronized laughter, Daniel as well, even though he’d rather rip his eyes off his face and throw them at their heads.

“Ehm, yeah. Car’s feeling great. The guys back home have worked really hard to get the car into a competitive league and I believe she is cooperating rather nicely this year.” Chuckles and low hums at his answer and the journalist seems to be content with what he said. Daniel would much prefer to tell him to fuck off and mind his business, but that wouldn’t help much.

Ever since he got in that car he’s been on edge.

Everything felt great, amazing even. Too amazing. Daniel felt warry, fidgeting with his fingers, creasing his forehead and barely acknowledging the people around him who were there to help him, guide him or simply, support him.

“The Ferraris are looking quite strong too. Even the Red Bulls. Quite the competition, right?” Daniel could sense that this wasn’t what the journalist wanted to ask and he expected that this was not end of this line of questioning.

So he didn’t say anything. He gave them a soft laugh a nod and a shy “Yeah.”

“But I guess, no one’s more dangerous than your own teammate. How do plan on tackling that competition?”

Nothing is heard now, at least not in Daniel’s head. He’d never been scared of a teammate or a question regarding that. But this year…this year’s everything is different. This year the car is good, too good. The team’s prepared, everyone’s expecting big things. All is lined up waiting for the wins, the podiums, the triumph. And Daniel, he’s not getting any younger. He knows it’s now or never and that scares him. The team has told him he’s their priority this year, but you never know. What if Lando’s quicker? What if Daniel crumbs under the pressure?

He gives them his signature smile that always earns him a second or two, thinking up of an answer that doesn’t come off as arrogant, nor threatening to his teammate, nor showing that he’ll back down from a fight.

“Heh… there will be no tackling, I assure you. We’re here to drive and try to bring home as many points as possible. I’m confident this year that I can do great things and that’s where I’ll focus right now.”

Good enough.

- - - -     

Sydney’s POV

“Good enough.” I talk myself up, looking at my reflection on the mirror. The papaya orange shirt suiting me just lovely, bringing warmth into my chest and a bright smile on my face. Nothing could ruin this moment for me.

I hear someone calling my name from the other side of the door so I quickly grab my pass, phone and tablet from the desk and rush out of the room, the smile still visible from a mile away. Gary, the person who was hired to pretty much guide me through my transition from Williams to McLaren, is standing outside my office with a less-than-impressed face, glancing at the thousand-dollar watch hugging his wrist and theatrically tapping his shoe’s sole on the floor.

“Finally, Sydney. We’re irreparably late.”

I scrunch my eyebrows and throw a quick look at my phone screen all the while Gary nearly drags me through the working staff to the meeting room. “The meeting’s not set for another fifteen minutes, Gary.”

“Being on time means getting there thirty minutes early.” I roll my eyes but keep my walking speed high, not wanting to disappoint the bosses on my first day here.  

We arrive at the empty room in lightning speed thanks to Gary's shoving of people and yelling. I try to keep my head low and apologize to anyone that got in the way of the crazy man I was following.

In the room, I see my full name written on a laminated piece of paper, stuck on the back of a chair so, naturally, I walk towards it. As I sit down I notice Gary has taken his seat on my left and slowly, some other people start to walk in; always with a warm smile and a nod for a greeting.

"Ah! Good morning Miss Zacks." The man who walks in greets me and I instantly stand up, my fingers intertwining with each other as my heart pounds in my chest.

"Good morning Mr. Brown."

He takes a seat at the head of the table and I take that as my cue to return to mine. As my head is already on the right direction, I take the chance to glance at the name tag on the chair next to me on my right.

Daniel Ricciardo.

And as if I read it out loud, the driver himself enters the room and suddenly, I'm frozen in place.

Sure, I have been working in this environment for years, walking around and coming in contact with many Formula One drivers. I've even developed close friendships with a couple of them; George, of course, for whom I'd been working for ages, and Daniel's very own teammate Lando who George introduced me to some years ago and who I am meant to work for this year.

But Daniel...

Never talked to him, never brushed through him, never even made eye-contact. Simply because I actively tried to avoid him, fearing that my fan behavior would break down my professionalism and I'd make a fool of myself.

My whole family, especially my dad, is practically in love with this man, glorifying him as if he's the one with the multiple championships and uncountable wins. His ties with McLaren significantly help, to be honest, since we all almost follow that team religiously, thanks to my dad who's been a fan since his younger years.

So my heart is pounding furiously in my chest, almost cutting my breaths short when Daniel takes his seat next to mine.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't even acknowledge me, too deep into his own thoughts, I assume. I can't help but feel the disappointment that washes over me way too intently than I would have wanted to, considering I know I'm here for one thing; work. It's not the time to fangirl over someone who works with me.

Well, he doesn't actually work with me but...in the same environment.

"Sydney!" A familiar British voice wakes me up and now every seat round the table is filled and low conversations have driven away the awkward silence. "Got tired of little George over there?"

Daniel's head pops up at the sound of his teammate and he slowly drags his eyes over to me, finally realizing there's a whole person next to him. The surprise is clearly drawn on his face, even from the corner of my eyes.

"Yeah, couldn't stand him." I say in a distinct sarcastic tone and Lando's face lights up at the chance to tease another driver.

"Well, his loss is our gain."

"Sure, I'm certain he'll be miserable over at Mercedes." We both share a good laugh before Lando asks Gary if he could change seats with him. With a sour face, Gary gets up from the chair and moves to the other side of the table.

"So, are you excited about this year?" Lando asks me and even though I can still sense that Daniel is keeping his eyes and ears on us, I move my body towards his teammate, blocking him with my back.

"Shouldn't I be asking that question?" Lando raises his eyes eyebrows expectantly, waiting for me to answer. "Yeah, yes. I am...terrified?" He laughs and I join him with a soft chuckle. "I mean, it's everything I ever wanted. I just, I guess I'm just scared I'll screw it up."

"You're going to be fine, Syd. Besides, you're in good hands."

"Yes, I'm sure we'll have a blast this season." I try to lighten the mood but Lando's brows furrow, as if he didn't quite understand what I just said. But before he can get a word in, Zack Brown starts speaking.

"Good morning everyone. There's a bunch of little things we need to settle, but first I'd like to welcome the newest member of the team. Sydney, we are delighted you'd decided to join us and we hope Daniel doesn't give you much of a hard time." Every person in the room responds with a generous laugh, and Zack continues on with announcing the matters of this meeting.

But I don't hear a word.

My brain's stuck at his welcoming words.

...we hope Daniel doesn't give you much of a hard time...

What the fuck?

[blaazeeedbabe]

My grandfather is in the process of dying. He was recently put on hospice and he is continuously just going down the drain. He’s constantly suffering and I am so ready, as is he, for that to end. This hits me so hard because my grandparents raised me and they’re like my parents. All I can keep thinking in the back of my mind is I just want him proud of me before he passes. I know he is, but I want him to feel like I got it all figured out, that I won’t let my grandmother suffer when he is gone. I was and partially still am a financial fuck up. I am doing everything in my power to straighten that out for when he is gone so I can help my grandmother.

I guess this ramble is because I just want to not only make him proud, but make myself proud. I need to do this once and for all or I’m never going to get out of this rut. I need to spend more time working on myself instead of pouring my all into everyone else.

I am so tired of feeling like a shitbag. I am so tired of second guessing if I am a good person, if my “friends” truly like me or not, and if I’m worthy of friends. Being bipolar is hard. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, said a lot of things I regretted later on, and have had a lot of lashing out on people closest to me. I have a hard time keeping my opinion to myself and sometimes I think I know the best course of action for someone when I absolutely do not. Sometimes my bipolar sends my ego so high that I really truly think my advice will help and is wanted. It’s not, and it’s taken me so many years to finally understand that.

I’m ready to turn inward. I’m ready to give up the connections I so desperately wanted to cling onto with my everything. I am so ready as hard as it’s going to be to start to do the work to love myself. I have an amazing partner who loves me more than life so I never need to worry about him. I have amazing family that I will never need to worry about them loving me or not. However, if I feel the way I do about myself and about some aspects of my life how am I supposed to expect people to like me? it’s truly time to do the inner work and to start looking at life on the positive side instead of the negative side. I will be 30 in four years and my goal by time I turn 30 is to have all of these bad situations I’m in be over and to hopefully get myself ahead.

Getting a late bipolar diagnosis really deterred me trying to get my life together in my early 20’s. Now, I am ready to get this together and to love myself by my thirties.

[ahiddenpath]

Life Update

It me, yuh gurl.

Long personal post about...  Dealing with...  *Waves hands*  Everything.

Hey my boops, how ya doin?

I’m feeling sort of...  Hm, what’s the word?  Pensive?  Ruminative?  These days.  I guess I’m wondering: is my life where I want it to be?  If not, what do I want?  Stuff like that.  It’s a normal and common thing, I’m sure.

My life has been kind of wild since...  Actually, since I broke my foot in three places and nearly tore my ankle tendons in late 2017.  I spent about three months nonmobile, then another six in physical therapy to regain motion in my ankle/foot.  My grandmother passed in 2018 (while I was still in PT), and my family fractured after that (basically squabbling over her possessions, which weren’t valuable, but old grievances were involved, too).  I started therapy after that, and I spent over two years really focused on that- which I think is some of the hardest/most difficult work you can do, at least by choice.  The pandemic started while I was still in therapy, and I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the loss of over two years of my life???  Which is still ongoing????

So, uh, yeah, actually...  My sense of being displaced in time and my own life is making more sense, now that I wrote that out.

One of the big things on my mind recently is work.  I’m a researcher at a biotech, annnnnd our current capital will run out in Q4, based on our financial reports.  So, uh, under five months, and of course, they would have to close shop well before they hit $0 to take care of expenses (paying out vacation days to employees and paying any business debts, for example).  

Biotechs are volatile, they start and close all the time, and layoffs are common when big projects are dropped.  Our company projected income for the year from collaborations, and literally none of those deals have panned out.  It’s looking bad- but I’ve never been between jobs or unemployed since I was 16, so, um, a break would be amazing?  So I’m torn between applying to get ahead of it and taking it easy and letting the chips fall. 

I’ve always been focused on planning for my future, like...  For as long as I can remember.  My family is...  Well, I knew I’d have to support myself and be independent ASAP since I was a child.  I can’t go to my family for emotional support, advice, or a basic understanding and acknowledgement of who I am as a person.  I certainly can’t go to them for financial support; it just isn’t there.  My mom expected me to financially support her, in fact, and when she first saw the house I bought two years ago, she spent the whole visit insulting me because I told her she would not be moving in.  (My therapy session after that was a whole thing, lemme tell ya what).  It’s sad how much of my life has pointed directly towards achieving financial security, knowing that I have no place to land.  Every decision, every plan.  And, like, it worked, or at least it has so far, which is undeniably a good thing!  

But I need to figure out how to shift from “everything I do is strategized to promote economic security” to “uh hey babe, darling, sweetie pie, being happy and appreciating the moment is kind of what life is made of.”  And yet, here I am feeling hypocritical as heckin heck, because of course you need economic security to appreciate the moment!  You can’t be enjoying a croissant and a hot cocoa on your day off if you are stretching to afford a pound of spaghetti noodles for like $1.60, or whatever that costs with recent inflation- or if you’re working your second or third job on your day off.

I think I’ve been mourning things that are difficult to articulate these days, too.  I...  Don’t know if I’ll have children, that’s the big thing.  Listen, no shade to people who choose to reproduce- in fact, I admire hope in the face of adversity- but I don’t know if there will be a tenable planet for my theoretical kiddo within thirty years- or sooner.  I’m a biopharma research scientist, not a climate scientist, but I can interpret data, and my formal summary: that shit be scary.  And my country, the USA, is catapulting backwards in terms of rights and dignities.  Plus, you know, late stage capitalism hellscape, etc.  

And what about the loss of time since 2020?  I planned to spend my early 30s travelling- I am sadly an untravelled person- and now it’s heckin hard to even plan a domestic trip (fuel prices, pilot shortages, etc).  Like many people, I’ve spent the time since 2020 terrified of being sick and losing loved ones, stuck inside far more, and trying to navigate how to behave in the face of deadly unknowns- and incredibly frustrated by my country’s response.  It actually kind of reminds me of the Thanos snap.  Obviously, we didn’t, like, dematerialize, but as of this writing, there have been over a million recorded covid deaths in the states.  Lives came to a halt, and so many people lost so much- high schoolers missing out on activities and postponing college or opting for remote, babies and toddler missing periods of socialization, on and on and on.  And then, after a few weeks, we pushed on as normal, even though nothing was normal???

 So, yeah.  I feel like I’m passing my hands over my body and feeling holes that aren’t physically there.  They are there, but they can’t be seen or easily explained.  And I bet most people feel this way.  Global trauma, my guys.

I have exactly zero advice, except to be gentle with ourselves and each other.  I hope I’ll have the courage to focus on being happy, and not on how messed up the world is and wondering if the holes are expanding.  In the face of uncertainty, working harder and hoarding what we have and forgoing fun things in the name of security is...  The exact instinct of someone with an anxiety disorder who has focused on security all her life.  And I’m willing to bet you don’t need a mood disorder or a past of security-based insecurities to feel this way.

So...  Here I am, struggling to absorb everything that has been, everything that is, and a future that is more unsure than ever.  That’s it, really, even after that honkin’ wall of text.  I hope you’re hanging in there, and that you have fun things going on, even if they’re small- maybe especially if they’re small.  Much love to you, my dears.

[theghostpinesmusic]

So, like my post about 12/29's "Oblivion," I'm going to start this write-up with a small gripe, which is that this take on "Life Saving Gun" is great, but is maybe the...fifth (?) most compelling improvisatory moment of this show for me. My favorite is probably the massive "Fuego" -> "Train Song" combo from earlier in the first set, but also the entire second set after a straightforward take on "The Well" is amazing: "Tweezer" -> "Twist" > "Piper" -> "Golden Age" -> "2001" > "Sigma Oasis" > "David Bowie."

I came into this show expecting it to be a letdown compared to the previous two nights based on online reviews but that, as usual, turned out to be a mistake. At this point, it's basically de rigeur for any Phish show without at least one 20+ minute jam in the second set to get voted down by "fans," but the fact is there are a lot of ways to improvise, and often length matters less than how you use it. For my money, this second set never lets up, is consistently creative and imaginative, and, among other things, has the most interesting "Bowie" since the early 2000s (though that's sort of damning with faint praise).

But none of that matters because Phish uploaded video for "Life Saving Gun," SO WE'RE TALKING ABOUT "LIFE SAVING GUN" NOW.

This song comes originally from Page and Trey's probably-underappreciated-by-me-thus-far 2023 album "January," and thus, like "Oblivion," it's a "new" Phish song. The version on the album is a weird, synth-heavy experiment, and I dig it, but this more Phish-y arrangement is a great addition to the band's repertoire and engages in a trope the band has indulged their entire careers: writing new Beatles songs the Beatles never got around to writing themselves.

I don't mean that in a derogatory way by any means: the Beatles are great, and they have obviously been a huge influence on all the members of Phish (to the point of their famously covering The White Album in its entirety in 1994). I just hear that influence really strongly on this song, and feel compelled to mention it because it's fun. Your mileage may vary.

I'm partial to the song in part, too, I think, because it...actually sort of rocks? Like, inasmuch as a bunch of sixty-year-olds can rock compared to Trey ripping through a "Chalkdust" solo thirty years ago at least. It heartens me that not only are these guys still producing tons of new material, but also putting out songs like this and "I Never Needed You Like This Before" that are legitimately great rock songs.

This particular great rock song is pretty short, but ends with a rare moment of Fishman going apeshit on the drums at 2:35, which leads right into the jam proper kicking off at 2:48. The band rides the groove of the song for a bit at first, with Trey taking a solo (and reprising the song's vocal melody a few times in a neat way). Page's super chorus-y organ chords deserve a mention here, too, as they add a 70s-type vibe to the proceedings in a cool way.

At 4:08 everyone in the band does that thing they do where they read each other's minds (?) and collectively turn on a dime, this time into a funkier space. I appreciate how the feel of the jam changes here without losing any of its momentum. Page's synth contributions here are just wonderful. For the next few minutes, these guys are just all doing the things they do really well and while it's not something as weird or as unique as, say, parts of 12/29's "Oblivion" jam, there's something equally satisfying about them just ripping through this groove. The lights are great here, too.

Starting at 6:07, Trey holds/loops a note(ish) for about thirty seconds. It used to kind of bother me when he would do this (he does it fairly frequently) because it felt like he was "dropping out" or "being lazy," but lately it's occurred to me (maybe as I've gotten better at guitar myself) that he's doing it to drop back into the mix and add texture so others can step up, and I feel like that's what happens here. By the time he comes back in, Page is leading the way on the clavinet and Mike's gotten his drill out (yes, he's playing his bass with a drill here).

The band returns to the groove after this brief break, but Trey starts to take a more authoritative approach to soloing, and Fishman starts accentuating his playing with cymbal crashes at 7:35 or so.

I'll be honest here: as much as I love this groove they've locked onto, by now it's been about four straight minutes of it and I'm more than good, and maybe getting a little bored. But then Trey, as if reading my mind, plays this wild ascending scale starting at 8:15 that, in peaking, seems to teleport him back to the 90s briefly and he commences to freak out. I love that you can hear the crowd roar on the video right here. I've never seen a show at MSG, but I've got to imagine a sold-out crowd losing it at a jam peak is probably a pretty great experience to be a part of.

Fortunately, we aren't even close to done with the fireworks yet.

The intensity keeps building over the next minute, with Fishman and the lights both peaking around 9:30. I should say that I haven't experienced their newest light rig in person yet, but it's wild enough seeing things like whatever's going on at 9:50 over the internet. God help everyone in that building who was tripping balls when this happened.

Right around here is where Trey starts building a bunch of guitar loops on top of each other (and there's a crowd shot with a guy wearing a Book It! shirt!) and we enter the stage of the jam where Phish Fries Our Adrenal Glands.

The solo Trey starts playing at 10:18 could have come straight from a CD-R of some 90s-era show that I wore out playing in my car while driving around the Appalachians in 2002. Needless to say, I'm a fan.

Things start to really take off at 11:15, and the lights...well, presumably if were at the show in person and on drugs, you are now dead. Rest in peace.

Trey starts adding loops on top of loops at 12:00 as if things aren't already intense enough, and at 12:40 we finally reach the top of the mountain. From there, it's a short wind-down to the end of the jam and the tune. Whew!

I've got one more post to make from this run, but it's going to be an unfocused rave about how good the 12/31 show was rather than a detailed breakdown of a particular jam.

After that...I haven't actually watched anything else lately (been writing a bunch for work), so I'm not sure? Orebolo is livestreaming next weekend, but they don't really lend themselves to long-form jam posts. In all likelihood, next I'll either be diving into a) old Goose shows that I attended in person and want to revisit, or b) another Phish run from this past year, possibly the spring tour.

Either way, I'll be back sooner rather than later! Thanks for reading!

[dgcatanisiri]

I do sometimes feel a mighty urge to preemptively gather up all the fic I can for the fandoms on my list to get involved in that I just haven't yet (y'know, like the unwatched DVDs sitting there, waiting to be watched). Especially because I have noticed that occasionally, even with the option of orphaning works, some people on AO3 still take their work down entirely, so this would mean that I don't miss out completely.

Not to mention there's the simple fact that, really, I'm never getting through my to-read list as it is at this point unless late stage capitalism either collapses or gets really cool about a lot of things really fast (not that this will stop me, mind you...).

I think my big stumbling block for this concept is just the simple 'I don't know what my NOTPs will be yet," and I don't want to collect like a thousand new fic just to discard like 950 of them.

Like to use an example of what I know, sure, if I were just getting in to Teen Wolf, I'd have a twenty-course meal with appetizers and dessert and the chef willing to make more. BUT I have been over aplenty why Stiles and Derek do not work for me, despite fandom's obsession, and on top of THAT, the second most popular pairing there is PETER and Stiles, which is even MORE of a "NO." from me, which is kinda amazing. So if I had collected fic blindly, then sure, I'd have, bare minimum, like thirty thousand to add to my listing, BUT they'd also be thirty thousand I'd delete without even reading because they're a clear case of 'this is not my scene.'

Seriously, though, I would like it if the 'gets really cool' thing happened, cuz that would make A LOT of things so much easier.