#oddly finals period is kind of my favorite time of the school year.

[katierosefun]

does anyone else have a whole moment of "god life is evil and brutal" and then it all dissipates the second you talk to your loved ones or whatever. realest feeling ever. no longer want to be evil, just want to be loved. etc

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl

A/N I start my second year of college tomorrow and i wanted to write something for the movie series that got me through moving out on my own for the first time!!

Fandom: (original) Scream

Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 

Final Girl Masterlist  (updated chapters 1-10 and extras, asks/extras involving the final girl fic verse are under the tag ‘final girl fic’)

----

Like usual, the bell that signifies the end of homeroom rings while I’m in the middle of a sentence. Mrs. Ramirez may be strict about tardies, but she always wraps up her announcements early, which means most of homeroom is filled by basic high school chatter. 

On the first day, that made me incredibly nervous. I didn’t think I’d have to start over at a new school almost two months into my junior year of high school, but now that I’ve been in Woodsboro nearly a month, the space in between instructions doesn’t bother me. The people here have been a lot more welcoming than I thought they’d be. And one of those surprisingly welcoming people is Casey, who’s patiently standing by her desk as I pick up my backpack. 

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” The question surprises me a little more than it should. I’ve been invited to a lot of things since I first moved here, and even when nothing’s going on I normally run into one or two of my friends on the weekends. Usually Stu and or Billy. 

I swing my backpack over my shoulder, “Uh--besides studying for that unit test in math, nothing much.” 

She smiles, “Okay, good.” Casey walks out of the door and into the hall with me. “I was going to rent a movie to watch with my boyfriend, but I’m thinking of blowing him off. You want to have a sleepover at my house? We can watch something scary and freak ourselves out and get no sleep.” 

I grin. “Sure, sounds fun. I’ll bring the Jiffy Pop.” 

“Great, I’ll write my address out for you tomorrow.” She turns her head slightly, taking note of the students crowding the hall, “I’ve gotta get to class. See ya.” 

“See ya.” 

A second after I’ve waved her off, a voice comes from right behind me, “New friend?” 

The words are so unexpected and strangely harsh in their lowness that I nearly jump out of my skin. I turn, posture straightening instinctively as I do so. Oh. Okay--not a threat at all. “Oh, it’s just you,” I exhale, “You scared me, Stu.” 

I offer him a partial smile in greeting, which is a gesture he normally returns with a genuine grin. Today, though, he just kind of looks at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his eyes look so dark, especially not while he’s looking at me. “Sorry.” He watches me blink at him. “I was just waiting to walk you to your first period like a good friend, but you seemed busy.” 

Oh, is that what his weird attitude’s about? “You mean Casey?” He doesn’t say anything. “She’s nice.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend myself or maybe even apologize, but I do. I don’t want him looking at me like that anymore. I want Stu to throw his arm around my shoulders with no warning after making an inappropriate joke that I pretend to get mad over. “We talk in homeroom, she’s a friend.” He doesn’t ease. “Are you jealous?” The joke doesn’t land. “Ease up, you know you’re my favorite.” 

At that, Stu’s oddly serious expression shifts into something softer, maybe even a little amused. “Your favorite?” 

He finally smiles, making the inky undertones of his expression disappear. “Mhm,” I continue, “My favorite out of everyone, but don’t tell Tatum or Sid because I don’t want to hurt their feelings.” 

“Fine,” Stu relents, casually throwing an arm around my shoulders, “I’ll just tell Billy.” 

I gape at him for a long second. After almost two weeks of eating lunch with their friend group every day, Billy offered me his drink after someone bumped into me and spilled mine. I had been sitting next to Stu, who had made some joke earlier that involved grabbing my hand and he had yet to let go. I released him to cross the table and thank Billy. Stu frowned and pretended to be seriously hurt until Tatum told him to leave me alone before he scared her new friend off. Since then, the two have a running joke (well, it’s Stu’s joke that Billy kind of just sort of allows) that revolves around me picking a favorite. 

“You’re in a drama starting mood today.” 

Stu hums once absentmindedly, rubbing his hand up and down my arm in a comfortable display of affection. ”What can I say? I want you all to myself.” 

Heat rises to my face for no good reason. Stu’s touchy, I learned that about him pretty quickly. “Haha,” I mumble dryly, hoping humor manages to come across in my voice. “We should get to class before you erupt into a jealous rage.” 

----

Temporarily discarding the cardboard lid of the Jiffy Pop container, I let my gaze linger on the few polaroids Casey took a little earlier in the night. Just a thing I’m trying out, she had explained before snapping a few awkward shots of me smiling before joining me behind the camera. The one where she’s cross eyed and I’m sticking my tongue out is kind of cute, but most of the ones of me are a little rough. 

Casey announces her return to the kitchen with, “Okay, I wasn’t sure what kind of movies you liked so I brought some variety.” She sets her stack of tapes on the counter next to me. “I was thinking Nightmare on Elm Street or Pet Sementary.” 

Leaning down, I turn on the stovetop before placing the pan on a burner. “Mmm, both are good but I’m more of a Nightmare on Elm Street kinda person. Can’t resist a story with a final girl in it.”  

“Alright,” she says just as the first kernel pops, “I’ll keep that in mind for future movie nights.” 

I turn my attention back to the stove in hopes of concealing a smile. Casey caught my attention that first day in homeroom because she’s just so effortlessly cool in a way that normally I find off putting. All morning, I tortured myself over everything that could go wrong. “Yeah, just--” 

A loud pop from the Jiffy Pop pan nearly makes me jump. Casey’s lips turn upwards like she’s going to make a joke about how easily startled I am, but a ringing sound spares me. “Hold on a second.” Casey pushes herself away from the counter she was leaning against. “Landline.” 

She casually picks up the receiver and I give the stove my full attention in an attempt to offer her some sort of privacy. Her words are low and easy to miss as butter begins to sizzle and more kernels start to explode. My gaze shifts and her slightly bothered expression makes me wonder if she’s on the phone with her boyfriend. I’ve never met him, but the few stories she told me earlier make me think I’m not going to like him. 

Casey hangs up with a sigh. “Wrong number.” She straightens, stepping away from the counter before grabbing a tape from her pile. “I’m going to go work on the movie, my mom was just complaining about the VCR. Careful with the popcorn, our stove’s a little iffy.” 

“Please,” I hum, “I know Jiffy Pop, I feel Jiffy Pop, I basically am Jiffy Pop. I’ve never burnt a single kernel.” 

She raises an eyebrow at my only slightly exaggerated claim before turning to leave the room. “You better hope you’re not all talk or you’re never living this down. 

I move the Jiffy Pop around the burner with a level of skill that’s worthy of someone of my expertise. About a minute later, Casey’s home landline starts ringing again. “Casey!”

“On it!”  

The ringing ends with the sound of a quick click. She must be on the living room extension. Her voice keeps getting louder, but I’m not hearing enough to understand who she’s talking to. She does sound like she’s getting a little annoyed, which makes me really think she’s on the phone with her boyfriend. Preconceived notions about people kind of suck, but Steve sounds like a total asshole. 

Casey returns to the kitchen with a playful, albeit softly irritated eye roll. “How do you feel about prank phone calls?” 

My eyes narrow in mock consideration. “Like making them?” 

“Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘P’ sound. “Dealing with them.” 

She waves the phone in front of me like it’s some kind of offer. “That’s kinda an ominous question,” I decide, arm extending to take the phone from her, “I’m in.” Without thinking twice, I raise the phone to my ear. Static hums from the other end of the line. “Hi.” The only response to my greeting is the consistent crack of static. “Are random phone calls your big Saturday night plans?” 

The static is starting to feel a lot eerier than it did before. That, paired with the continual popping of kernels is starting to unsettle me. Snap out of it, it’s just a prank call. I begin to move around the pan again. I can’t afford to burn anything after all that big talk about my Jiffy Pop skills. 

Just as I’m settling the pan at a new angle, the sound of shifting fabric interrupts the steady stream of white noise. “Did your friend scare so easily?” 

I blink. Whoever’s on the other line is probably a total weirdo, but his voice is kinda attractive. “It’s not personal, she’s just busy messing with the VCR.” 

An unsettlingly deep laugh comes from the other line of the phone. Okay--his attractive voice is no longer enough of a redeeming quality for me to not see him as a total creep or perv. Actually, he’s probably both. “What’s your name?” 

The confident authoritativeness of the question rubs me the wrong way. I release the handle of the pan in favor of instinctually placing a hand on my hip. “I don’t share things with strangers.” 

A beat of silence is followed by the rustling of fabric. “But I already know something about you.” 

“Mhm,” I muse dryly, beginning to work on the popcorn again, “And what is it that you know?” 

“Your friend is setting up the VCR, you’re going to watch a movie, aren’t you?” 

I roll my eyes, understanding why Casey was so quick to leave them without hanging up. Weird people like this are normally more persistent when they’re ignored. “Wow, your detective skills have truly shocked and amazed me, Nancy Drew. Congratulations, now if that’s all--”

I’m not sure if its my sarcasm or my attempt at stern dismissal that amuses them, but a deep chuckle comes from the other end of the line. “What movie are you going to watch?” 

“Why? Are you looking for a recommendation?” My reply comes out too fast and too bitter and I regret it instantly. People like this can’t know that they’re getting to you. “Nightmare on Elm Street.” 

Static turns into the sound of more ruffling. “That’s scary.” 

“I think I can handle it,” I breathe. 

“Do you like scary movies?” 

I nod, “Yep, I even have a golden rule for them.” 

“Golden rule?” 

Rolling my eyes, I stare at the pan. The popping is starting to slow down. Soon enough, I’ll have an excuse to hang up and get back to my sleepover. “Yeah, it’s silly, but I think all the great scary movies have a final girl.” 

Another dark laugh. “I agree.” 

“Your approval fuels me,” I mumble. 

The stranger is quick to ask, “Is Nightmare on Elm Street your favorite scary movie?” 

I shake my head, turning the pan so that it’s more on its side than before. “It’s good, but it’s not my all time favorite.” 

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

I sigh, a part of me wishing that Casey would come back. “I already told you that I’m not telling you anything.” 

“So I shouldn’t ask for your name again?” 

“You can ask, but you’re not getting an answer.” Rolling my eyes, I move my hand away from the pan and towards the switch that controls the stove. “Why do you want know so bad, anyway?” 

“It’s rude to not ask a pretty girl for her name.”

Wow--what a line. “That line doesn’t work in person and works even less over the phone when I know you can’t see me.” 

Silence stretches between us so long I start to think that he might have gotten up or something. “What makes you so sure I can’t see you?”

 It’s the kind of vague threat that normally I’d laugh off. But something about the stranger’s assured tone cuts right through all of my security. Irrational dread pulses in my stomach. “Yeah, I’m not interested in being in a scary movie. Bye.” 

“Wait--” There’s the slightest hint of panic in their voice. 

“I am so sick of creepy men trying to ruin everything just because they can.” 

“Don’t even think ab--!” = 

“Porn exists for a reason, perv!” And with a single beep, the man’s voice disappears. 

Ugh, men. Even though his threat was the kind of meaningless joke that creepy, horny men tell because they get off on scaring girls, I can’t stop feeling a lot less alone in Casey’s kitchen. 

I let myself shudder as I pace away from the kitchen and towards Casey’s living room.

“Y/n?” Casey’s voice is completely casual as she questions me. That means that weird phone guy didn’t scare her. 

Be more normal. “Hey--I just..” 

She turns her head, blonde bob falling to the side as I trail off. “Did something scare you?” 

There are a lot of things I could say, but nothing feels good enough. Denial crawls up my throat and just sits there as my thoughts beg me to tell her. To maybe even warn her. Warn her of what, though? That some weird guy has her phone number and the junior girl she took a chance on is this easily freaked? 

Before I can make up my mind, the living room phone rings. Dread roots itself in my stomach and tangles itself in my throat. Casey sits up a bit more on her couch as she reaches for the phone. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

Casey raises an eyebrow as she picks up the receiver. “Forget that guy, he’s probably already forgotten us and is harassing someone else. She then raises the phone to her ear and listens for a long second, “Is this some kind of joke, because it’s not funny.”

I stare at her with wide eyes as she stands, quickly pacing away from the couch and towards the center of the living room, as far from any window as possible. The noise from the phone is muffled, but something about the tone feels a lot more aggressive than it was earlier. Maybe aggressively calling him a pervert and hanging up on him wasn’t the smartest thing I could have done. 

Casey’s face is void of any color as she slowly pulls the phone away from her ear. “He wants to talk to you.” 

My eyes widen as I play back the last words I said to him. An instinctual no crawls up my throat. With shaky hands, I take the phone. “Hi,” I curse myself for sounding so nervous, “Again. Hi again.” A nervous giggle crawls up my throat and I have to my tongue to keep it down. “Listen, you win. You scared us. Now I’m going to hang up and you’re gonna let me.” 

“Really?” The laugh, or maybe even growl, that follows comes out in the form of low grumble that turns my blood into slush. “And if I don’t?” 

Great. Of course phone freak is trying to verify my threat. I don’t exactly have an arsenal of intimidation tactics. “My mom’s dating a cop, and I’ll get him to arrest your ass.”

It’s not the most honest thing I’ve said to him, but it’s not a lie either. My mom’s boyfriend being hired as Woodsboro’s police chief is one of the main reasons we moved, but I’m not sure he’d particularly care about someone scaring me over the phone. I’ve known Wells for a few months now and the only thing I’ve seen him express interest in is my mom and beer. And occasionally, he shows a little too much interest in the length of my skirt. 

Silence. Okay--maybe he took that seriously. My finger moves towards the button that can end this call, but before I can convince myself that nothing bad will happen if I press it, the voice returns with a vengeful chuckle. “What’s Chief Wells Hoffman going to do for you?” 

I feel each drop of blood drain from me. My hands shake as my grip on the phone tightens. With a wavering voice I ask, “How did--how--” 

In an act of a sadistic sort of mercy, the man cuts me off, “Oh, doll face,” he breathes the nickname like he’s taking pity on me. Like I’m a child that needs to be comforted. “I’m going to play nice with you.” He’s waits a beat, “But your good friend Casey Becker’s not going to be so lucky.” 

At the threat of someone that’s standing right next to me, something in me becomes strangled. “How do you know her name?” I shake my head, forcing down the wave of dread trying to force me into panic. “Leave her alone, or-or you’re gonna regret it.” 

“You look too sweet in those cherry pajamas to be making threats.” 

My lips part but I can’t bring myself to ask the question because I already feel the answer in my chest. “How do you know what I’m wearing?” 

“Why don’t you look behind you?”

I pull the phone away from my ear slowly, my eyes snapping upwards in search of Casey’s. But she’s not looking at me. She’s staring at something that’s just over my shoulder, her hand covering her mouth in horror. I pull the phone away from my ear. 

My body does not feel like my own as I force myself to turn towards Casey’s sliding glass door. Despite the glare of the living room light against the reflection of glass, it only takes my eyes a second to adjust enough to see that Casey’s backyard is not empty. 

A figure that’s clothed in all black except for their contrasting, stark white mask that depicts a face frozen in a permanent, cartoonish scream is standing there. Now that he has my attention, he raises his hand, miming the action of answering a phone.

I take a deep breath in an attempt to settle myself, but all it does is make it harder to not scream or cry or laugh hysterically. I raise the phone to my ear again. “Hello, Y/n.” 

“Hi,” I squeak back before pressing the phone into the side of my thigh in a pathetic attempt to muffle my words. “Casey,” I whisper, raising my hand in greeting in an attempt to appease the figure on the other side of the glass, “R--” 

Before the single syllable can slip past my lips, the glass bursts. I turn in on myself, lifting an arm in a feeble attempt to protect myself from the explosion of glass shards. It only takes me a moment to look up in horror at the masked man that’s now in the house. If throwing his entire weight against gas sliding glass door with enough force to shatter it hurt him, he shows no sign of his pain as he begins to run. 

An instinctual scream escapes me as I blindly hurl the phone in the man’s general direction. I grasp Casey’s hand pulling her forward with all my strength as I start running. I urge her forward, ignoring the pain in my forearm and feet from the glass. We’re about to make it to the front door when I feel a firm grasp on my arm. 

I yelp, thrashing blindly as I’m yanked away from Casey. My body twists, but the leather clad hand holding me is unrelenting. There’s a strange strain in the way they pull me back, but I don’t care about his promise to play nice. In a move that likely surprises both of us, I kick behind me with all of my force. Their hold loosens for a fraction of a second, but they regain control before I can even take a full step forward. The man pulls on me harder than before, throwing me back and into the Becker’s entryway table. A scream that I only vaguely register as not mine is so terrible and high pitched my lip quivers at the sound of it. The vase on the table gets knocked over and shatters as I fall. 

My head slams into the wall with enough force to leave me disorientated for a second. Our attacker must not be completely aware of his own strength because for a brief moment, they just look at me as my body lays against shards of glass. With a shaky breath, I push myself to stand even though the movement forces large pieces of glass to cut into my palm. The man recovers before I’m fully up. He grabs me by my shoulder and forces me down on the other side of the hall. I push against him with the support of all the adrenaline in my body as he moves to pin my wrists above my head. The man reaches for something hidden among layers of black. All I can hope for is that my death might have given Casey a chance to escape. 

Instead of pulling out a gun or a blade, he reveals a small, white towel. The confusion makes my stomach twist in a different way as I fight against him even more now. He places the rag over my nose and mouth, forcing me to breath through it. Is this a form of suffocation? I blink twice, my limbs growing impossibly heavy the more I try to breathe. Eventually, that’s all there is. Just the weight of my body and the polluted air in my lungs until even that is replaced by darkness. 

----

NARRATOR’S POV

The one thing about meticulously planning is that it takes so little for plans to go off the rail. One can prepare for every possible outcome and life can still throw twists at them because the rest of the world can never seem to listen to the fucking plan. 

That’s how Billy felt when he saw you standing in Casey Becker’s kitchen, casually prepping Jiffy Pop like you’ve been best friends with her your entire life. Not only did a dangerous sort of aggravation pulse through him at the realization that his perfect plan needed to be adjusted, he also found himself dealing with the kind of anger that’s a result of betrayal. All the time Stu and him spend with you and you couldn’t tell them that you were planning on spending the night at Casey Becker’s? 

When you mumbled some vague excuse about why you couldn’t hang out with Tatum and Sidney Saturday evening during yesterday’s lunch period, Billy felt skeptical. He thought that that’d be something to figure out later. And then he saw you there, grinning and having the time of your life without a single thought about them.

For the briefest moment, Billy wondered if this was some kind of sign. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him to screw it, to let you get what you deserve for keeping secrets. But then he realized that if anything, this signified that he was right about you. After all, what were the odds that you’d be in the perfect place to make your debut as the one thing their movie was missing--a final girl? It only took a few minutes of watching you for Billy to be glad that he thought to bring some chloroform in case anything got complicated. 

The new and improved plan went off without a hitch. Steve was an easy kill and Casey’s death was even more satisfying than he thought possible. Nothing bad happened, so why the hell is Stu taking so long? 

Approaching the house’s entryway, Billy sighs when he sees that Stu isn’t wearing his mask. “What is taking so--” He cuts himself off as something he doesn’t quite get settles in his chest. There’s a hole about the size of his fist in the wall, blue and white ceramic fragments scattered around a small, knocked over table, and most unsettling of all, your unconscious, still bleeding form lying parallel to it all.

“I didn’t mean to,” Stu says, voice uncharacteristically shaky, “I--I--fuck, I didn’t mean to. I was just gonna put her to sleep, but she kept trying to get away--and the chase was exciting,” he scoffs the last word pathetically. “I didn’t think she’d fight back.” 

Billy lets out a breath, crouching down to get a better look at your face. There’s a shallow gash on your forehead that’s still dripping blood into a puddle that your cheek is resting in. If it wasn’t for that, Billy might have been able to imagine that you were sleeping. “What the fuck did you do?” 

When Billy’s hard gaze meets Stu’s, Stu blurts out the only thing he can think to say, “She’s still breathing! She’s not--she’s not dead.” He stares at your crumpled form, desperately studying the slow but even rise and fall of your chest. “I didn’t mean to.” 

Billy’s fingers brush against the side of your face. “I know.” Stu doesn’t ask him to specify which part of his defense he’s referencing. “She’ll be okay, someone will find this, they’ll take her to the hospital. She’s not that hurt.” 

“She fell into the glass,” Stu admits, “And--and her head hit the wall so hard. What if she has a concussion? Shit, aren’t you supposed to stay awake if you have a concussion?” He lets out an uneasy sigh that doesn’t seem to fit him. It’s the kind of breathy, uneasy sound that’s the precursor for a tantrum a child throws after realizing that they just broke their favorite toy. “What if she has some kinda brain damage? She has--she has the SAT next week and she’s been studying for it since before she moved here.” After a moment, Stu snorts, but the sound comes out more desperate than humorous. “She’s gonna be so mad.” 

The corner of Billy’s lips turn upwards. “For like a week, and then she’ll be trying to spin this into some kind of college essay.” 

Another uneven laugh escapes Stu. “You’re right.” He then looks down, something weirdly close to what some might call guilt cramming itself into his head with too much force. It’s all too much. All he wants is for you to open your eyes and smile at him. “Fuck, we need to call an ambulance.” 

“You know we can’t.” 

“She could be bleeding in her skull. Isn’t that a thing?”

Billy bites his tongue. So many versions of a reply are circling in his mind and not a single one of them feels right. He should tell his best friend, his partner in everything, that that’s just something he’s going to have to life with. Billy should tell Stu that what happens to you is on him. Instead, Billy just looks at you, at the cuts in your soft skin. Some dominant part of him is thrilled at your vulnerable state. All bloody and broken and still somehow so soft and warm. He could have you now, he thinks, and he wouldn’t have to pretend the way he does when you’re awake. But something else in him, maybe the part of him that knows the way he’s supposed to act, knows that to leave you like this, to waste any more time, could lead to something permanent.  

The updated plan is already in motion. After this, there’s no way you won’t need them. He likes the thought of you needing him more than anything else, and he knows that it’d be so easy to push you into a state of dependency. You’re going to be so scared that any reservations you feel towards them because they’re dating your friends will disappear. And how could Sidney and Tatum have a problem with Stu and him being supportive after everything you’ve been through? 

Besides, a part of him wants to see how your role plays out. After all, you said it yourself. All the great scary movies have a final girl. 

He cups your face, studying each of your features as if to commit them to memory. “We’ll call 911 from the house phone and not say anything. They’ll have to send someone over, but we need to get out of here quick.”

[collecting-stories]

Two-Headed Calf - Eddie Munson

Summary: You and Eddie are soulmates, but neither of you knows how to tell the other.

A/N: I got the idea for this when I was writing my Steve Harrington AU drabble. I love love this poem and I was thinking of Eddie and it made me think of this poem and I had to write this. Also I am EXTREMELY nervous because this is my first Eddie fic so handle me with kid gloves. My feelings are fragile.

Stranger Things Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Tomorrow when the farm boys find this 

freak of nature, they will wrap his body 

in newspaper and carry him to the museum. 

-February 1982- 

Some people waited decades to meet their soulmates. You had waited a mere six hours, if even that. You’d woken up on the morning of your 16th birthday to a warmth on your arm, the kind that made you rush to the bathroom and look in the mirror.

And there it was, your soulmate tattoo, exactly at the time you had been born, sixteen years prior. A two headed calf with a moon and stars that looked oddly soft and gentle for being a tattoo. You recognized the meaning because it was your favorite poem and the thought alone made your entire heart feel like it was swelling. Maybe it was silly and wistful but you thought the whole notion was romantic and you’d read what felt like thousands of accounts of people finding their soulmates. So you knew, when you saw the tattoo, that it was something different, something you’d only heard about happenings handful of times, something extremely rare, that whoever your soulmate was, you had the same tattoo.  

It was common knowledge that each person’s tattoo was unique, a symbol that was meant to encapsulate something important about their soulmate. But when a tattoo said as much about you as it did about the person you were bound to, that was something deeper. Whatever was more binding than a soulmate, as if you’d been truly cut from the same cloth.  

When you saw the two-headed calf you were excited, bewildered, nervous, happy. It was a rush of emotions coursing through you that didn’t fade away until you were in first period math, sitting in the same seat that you always did, staring at the chalkboard in the front of the room as other students filed in. Getting your tattoo didn’t mean that you were going to find your soulmate right away.  

Your mom had never even met hers. Your dad had, ten years into their marriage, and now he lived in Denver, Colorado with a new wife and family. Your aunt and uncle finally met five years after college. You didn’t know anyone who had met their soulmate right away but then Eddie Munson came in, looking tired and maybe a little burnout for eight in the morning on a Wednesday. He dropped into the seat next to you, like he did every day of the week, and you noticed (for the first time maybe) a familiar tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of his shirt.  

Eddie Munson had turned 16 three days before you. You knew because you were the only February birthdays in Mrs. Prescott’s third grade class and your mom had brought in double the cupcakes on your birthday and Eddie had handed them out with you. When you’d walked down to the office and specials classrooms he’d gone with you and the two of you had giggled about getting to skip math that day.  

“Did you get the invitation to my birthday party?” You had asked as you made your way back through the halls. Music was next and you didn’t want to miss it, even if your teacher was weird. “I’m gonna have a bowling party.”  

“My uncle’s not sure if he works that day.” Eddie had gotten it, the crisp white envelope sitting in his backpack at the end of the school day. Mrs. Prescott had been teaching cursive since January and you had written out Eddie’s name in neat, looping letters. It was the first birthday he’d been invited to that school year.  

“My mom could pick you up.” You suggested, pausing in the hallway. “Oh! We could have two cakes!”  

“Two cakes?” Eddie looked completely bewildered by the suggestion, “what for?” 

“Me and you.” You bumped your hip against his and smiled when icing from his cupcake smeared on his nose, “we can have a joint birthday!” 

There was an extra cupcake in your locker right now, waiting for you to work up the nerve that you’d sworn you would every February since sixth grade and give it to Eddie during lunch. He subconsciously pushed up the ¾ sleeve and itched his arm over the tattoo, giving you a better look at what you knew was there…a soul mark to match your own.  

“Did you get it?” Your best friend dropped into the seat in front of you and turned to look at you eagerly. Lizzie’d gotten hers at the beginning of January, the first of your friends to get a soul mark. She’d gotten a bumblebee on her wrist, much smaller and more delicate than yours. More immediately noticeable as well, though you weren’t sure you really wanted yours to be on display. Eddie wasn’t paying attention, or if he was he did a good job of looking disinterested.  

“Yeah, I’ll show you after class.” You promised.  

You weren’t entirely sure that you’d spoken to Eddie since third grade. You always wanted to talk to him, thought about it after the talent show in middle school when Corroded Coffin preformed a Black Sabbath song you’d never heard of. Your mom was on the PTL that year and went to bat for Eddie (after you’d insisted that he was your friend)  with the other moms who thought the music was satanic and disgusting. It wasn’t a stretch to say you had a crush on him. It wasn’t like you were popular by any means, if anything you were skating just below the surface, invisible to most people and happy with that status. Eddie liked the attention, you thought sometimes, he liked everybody looking at him, even if it was because he was a social pariah.  

But Eddie was...Eddie and you just weren’t sure you stacked up. You didn’t have a cool taste in music, you didn’t dress edgy, you’d never played Dungeons & Dragons (though you knew how, in case the moment ever presented itself and you had the chance to talk to Eddie again). You weren’t interesting enough for him, you’d decided that long before you knew he was your soulmate, when it was still just a meaningless crush that you harbored.  

“Where is it?” Lizzie was still pressing for a sneak peek but there was no way you were going to pull your sleeve up and show her when your soulmate in question was sitting right beside you.  

“I’ll show you after class,” you repeated, stealing a glance at Eddie as he rubbed at his arm again. You could feel the slight tingling across the inside of your elbow and forearm, as if goosebumps had erupted across your skin. As hard as it was to concentrate on math, you tried desperately to ignore the feeling on your arm, too afraid to itch your freshly visible tattoo for fear that Eddie might notice.  

After class felt like it would never happen, your knee bobbing nervously under the desk as the minutes ticked on. You weren’t sure how long you had zoned out for but one minute you were listening to the teacher talking over linear equations and the next you were envisioning what it might be like if Eddie knew that you were sitting there beside him with the same tattoo.  

Would he kiss you? You were pretty sure you’d give just about anything to kiss him. You’d spent plenty of time thinking about the soft fullness of his lips and how pretty he looked when he smiled and how much you wanted to run your fingers through his hair and sit on his lap and make out with him until you were short of breath.  

“You okay?” 

You turned to the side, looking at Eddie like a deer caught in headlights. The bell for the end of class had rung and you had jumped practically out of your seat when the sound jostled you out of your daydream. Eddie was looking at you with all the concern in the world while Lizzie tapped your desk with her knuckles. 

“Lets go,” either she hadn’t seen your jump scare moment or she was so used to you fazing out in class that she wasn’t bothered in the slightest, more so, she was eager to see this tattoo and wouldn’t stop bugging you until you showed her.  

“Uh, yeah, okay,” you still felt dazed as you stood up, Eddie standing up at the same time, retrieving your backpack off the floor and holding it out for you. “Thanks, I’m okay.” You promised, taking the bag, your fingers brushing against his.  

A soft jolt, like the after effect of an electric shock, ran up your arm. A warm sensation surged through you and you pulled your hand back quickly, avoiding eye contact as you heard Eddie call your name. If you turned around and looked at him you were liable to tell him your secret, that he was your soulmate.  

You couldn’t though. You couldn’t do that to him. People like Eddie moved to New York City and played gigs at CBGB’s and had gorgeous groupies hanging all over them. They didn’t stay in Hawkins, saddled to some starry-eyed kid who shared a birthday month and a tattoo with them.  

Lizzie pulled you down the hallway and into the bathroom, pushing the stall doors open to make sure no one else was in there with you. While she made a final inspection you dropped your bag to the floor and pushed off your jacket so you could take your shirt off for her to see the tattoo.  

The two headed calf looked back at you from the dingy mirror on the wall, half obscured by Lizzie’s head as she inspected the tattoo. “Weird.” She mused, “I don’t get it.” 

“Who knows, it’s just a cow.” As much as you loved Lizzie and as close as you were, there were things you’d never share with her. Like favorite poems about conjoined cows.  

“With two heads. Figures you’d get some weirdo as your soulmate.”  

“You don’t know that,” you sounded more offended than someone who’d just gotten their soul mark that morning and had little to no way of knowing who it belonged to.  

Lizzie didn’t seem to notice though, “I thought it’d be something cool.”  

You rolled your eyes. Who was she to comment on the ‘coolness’ of your tattoo? A bumblebee was hardly ‘cool’. It was just a bumblebee. There wasn’t even any originality in it. You shrugged your shoulders before you could say anything you regretted and grabbed your backpack. Lizzie had cut into your time to grab books and you really didn’t want to be late to class. Nor did you want to continue any conversation with her that would include making fun of the tattoo you were so fond of.  

- 

The bell for lunch sent your stomach back into a spiral. You’d gone through Spanish and Science without Eddie being physically beside you, though he’d taken up plenty of space in your mind. It was in the middle of biology that you decided you were going to finally, actually, go through with the plan that you came up with every year on your birthday. You were going to get the confetti cake cupcake from your locker and you were going to broach the Hellfire table and you were going to give him the cupcake. It was a little late for his birthday but you didn’t think he’d care either way.  

But now you were staring at the tupperware container with the cupcake in it and feeling self conscious about giving it to him. What if he thought it was stupid? What if he made fun of you? That one seemed unlikely. You’d known him since kindergarten technically and you’d never known him to be mean.  

Deep breath in, you reminded yourself, you could do this. Even if he didn’t know it yet, you were technically destined to be together, in all the universe no one would ever love you as much or understand you as deeply as Eddie Munson, so surely he’d accept a cupcake. Even if he didn’t know yet, he had felt the same jolt as you. You knew he did because when you looked back into the math class he was staring at his hand like it’d caught fire.  

“Happy birthday,” you announced, stopping beside his seat and holding the Tupperware out to him. He was in the middle of a heated music debate with one of the other guys you recognized from the talent show. Eddie’s head whipped around so fast you half expected it to turn all the way like an owl. It was his turn to look like a deer in headlights, spooked and confused all at once.  

“What?” His mouth was slightly agape as he stared up at you, eyes practically sparkling as he put two and two together. “A present? For me?” The boyish wit and charm returned in full force like a sucker punch to your heart as he placed his hands over yours and pulled the Tupperware toward him, “why, I am just beside myself,” his voice was high-pitched, his accent a caricature of a southern belle. Still, that familiar gleam in his eye couldn’t be missed as he opened the lid and looked down into the container, a cupcake (the top a little mashed in) with rainbow jimmies.  

“My mom made them for my birthday,” you explained, “I figured, since it was just your birthday too...” As you spoke you crossed your arms in front of yourself, tucking your hand against your forearm and itching at the tattoo as inconspicuously as possible.  

The playfulness that had been in Eddie’s eyes a moment ago flickered away, another emotion, something like surprise mixed with happiness, took its place. The boy you’d known to always have something to say, said nothing. He just stared at the cupcake, almost transfixed, tongue darting out to wet his lips.  

“It’s confetti...well it’s vanilla but you know, with jimmies baked in.” You further explained, unsure what to do with an Eddie that wasn’t loud and goofy and theatrical.  

Finally Eddie looked back up at you, “thank you, I uh...thank you.” 

“Yeah, hope you like it. I uh,” you looked back toward your usual table, Lizzie already sitting down with her lunch, “I have to go eat.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” 

You turned around and walked back to your table as quickly as possible, trying to breath in and out to stop the warm throbbing in your side. You’d read once that ignoring the tattoo, if you were near the person that was your soulmate, could lead to eventual pain in the area of your soul mark. You almost wondered if it was starting already. A quick glance back to the table and Eddie was eating the cupcake, some icing smudged in the corner of his mouth. When he put the tupperware down for a second and itched at his arm you thought for a split second about walking right back over and kissing him and seeing what would happen.  

But then Lizzie called your name and you were pulled back into reality. 

-

-June 1983-

It was the end of the school year when Eddie found his soulmate. The two-headed calf tattoo on the inside of his forearm and elbow was one he’d spent hours staring at since it first showed up in February. He’d read the poem for the first time in seventh grade, leaning over the back of your chair in the library with his head on your shoulder and his cheek pressed against yours.  

He remembered the afternoon perfectly, as if he had a television in his brain and he was watching a rerun of an episode of his life. Or at least the highlight reel.  

You were waiting for your mom (who was always nice but also always late) working on your english homework, when Eddie came in. He’d been on the run from the same basketball playing future sociopaths that still tormented him now, at the end of junior year. The library doors looked like the gateway heaven, or at least that’s what he told you later on when he recounted what had brought him into your personal space (literally, you were convinced that Eddie lacked spacial awareness along with a few other things that probably should have made him less endearing).  

But the library doors, like a gateway to heaven glowing at the top of the ramp to the second floor. He booked it, his old converse squeaking in protest, and entered the room with a flourish only Eddie Munson could harness.  

“Holy shit!” He’d been laid up against the door trying to catch his breath when he saw you. It wasn’t the first time he had talked to you since third grade but every time left butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He pushed off the wooden door, heading straight for your chair. He pressed his hands down on the back rung and crouched down, leaning over you and placing his chin on your shoulder.  

You’d seen him come in, heard him call your name when he saw you, so you didn’t jump when you felt him practically draping himself over you. By seventh grade you were more than used to Eddie and his antics.  

“What’re you doing?”  

“Homework.” You replied, not turning your head for fear that you’d be in a predicament that you both wanted to be in and wanted to avoid. You imagined all those trashy romance novels you smuggled from your mom’s room; the main characters catching each other off guard so one could kiss the other.  

Eddie groaned, stumbling away from you as if you’d shoved him, practically tripping over the table as he threw himself into the chair beside you. His elbow collided with the tabletop and he rested his head against his palm, “boring!” He exclaimed, drawing out the word.  

“It’s not boring Eddie,” you insisted as he took the poetry book from you. The English assignment had been fairly cut and dry, discussing the meaning of a favorite poem.  

“What poem is this?” He asked, reading the one that you highlighted. There were notes in the margins, you annotated what you could and Eddie got that stupid little grin on his face as he read your handwriting. It had gotten smaller since third grade, neater too.  

“The two-headed calf.”  

On your sixteenth birthday Eddie had sat beside you in class, hopefully when Lizzie mentioned the tattoo but you wouldn’t say anything about it. He wanted to demand that you show him, wherever it was, because he’d been thinking of you for the last three days and he desperately wanted to know if it was you. It had to be you, didn’t it? But did you even remember?  

It was June and it was hotter than usual and Lizzie, who lived a few trailers away from his humble abode, had invited you over to sun bath. (“I need to be tan for summer.” She had insisted) You had walked passed his place and he was outside smoking and you stopped.  

Eddie knew it wasn’t unusual that you did, you’d always been nice to him. You’d always been nice to everyone but that didn’t stop the thudding in his heart every time you looked his way, it was like winning the lottery when he hadn’t even entered. Normal people didn’t get so lucky.  

“Hey, Eddie.” You say his name like you’re always happy to see him and for the briefest second Eddie imagines that it’s him you’re coming to see and not Lizzie. That you’d sit on the stoop with him, kiss his cheek so gently it’d turn up to his ears, and maybe finish the joint he’s smoking. You’d listen to him talk about D&D and when you talked about the books you liked he’d understand every word.  

“Ah,” he smiled, “tell me fair maiden, what brings you to this hobbit hole?”  

“Aren’t hobbit holes meant to be clean?” You teased, kicking an empty can of beer that had fallen out of the trash cans on the edge of Eddie’s sorry excuse of a lawn.  

He felt his heart swell at the comment and suddenly he wished he could usher you inside and spend the whole rest of the afternoon talking about Tolkien with you. “You know your hobbits then.” 

You opened the tote bag hanging off your shoulder and pulled the slightly worn copy of The Hobbit up far enough that Eddie could see it, pressing your lips together as if you were fighting off a smile but smiling anyway. “I was uh,” you dropped the book back into your bag and nervously shifted your weight as you stood there a few feet from him, wondering if he would think you were stupid if you told him, “I was thinking about you the other day.”  

Eddie tried to keep whatever composure he was still clinging too, “well, I can’t blame you, there’s a lot to think about.”  

You laughed and nodded as if you agreed with him, “I was wondering how many times you’ve read the hobbit and trying to decide if I was anywhere near as close.”  

“At least ten,” he admitted, “I’ve lost count.”  

You didn’t mention that you imagined him sitting there with you in your room, the two of you reading together. That you thought about how he’s jump up on the bed and perform every song that Tolkien had penned, shouting out the goblin song so loud he no doubt disturbed all the neighbors. “I have the movie…I mean, when I’m done rereading I’m gonna watch the movie again. We should-“ 

“Oh my god!” Lizzie shouted, “of course you’re over here!”  

Eddie perked up at the comment, his mind racing at what she could’ve meant. Of course, the words replayed in his mind, you’re over here. When he looked up at you, you were looking at Lizzie and for the first time he realized he could see your soul mark, the grayish-black drawing etched on your skin on full display for him as you stood there apologizing for stopping to talk, it was the same as his and he realized then that he’d been holding a hand over his arm this whole time. The dull ache in his arm felt warm, like a soft fire had spread from his fingers all the way up his shoulder and down to his heart.  

He should’ve told you right then, as you turned back to him and adjusted the strap of your bag. He should’ve grabbed you and told you that you were his soulmate and wasn’t that perfect because he was so in love with you anyway, but he just smiled awkwardly as you apologized for Lizzie.  

“I was saying,” you were saying something and Eddie had to force himself to pay attention to anything other than the itch, “we should watch the hobbit together. You could come over and we could have pizza and stuff. Are you still reigning champion of Oreo stacks?”  

Eddie was pretty sure he was going to explode. Or that lightening was going to come down from the sky and strike him where he stood. “No one’s taken the crown yet.” He replied.  

Lizzie called your name again, having walked away and suddenly realized you weren’t beside her. You bit your bottom lip, looking apologetic and incredibly beautiful all at once. Blow off Lizzie and her dumb obsession with being tan, Eddie wanted to say, come inside and we’ll watch the hobbit now. He would watch whatever you wanted, name it and he’d get it.  

“I’ll see you later Eddie,” you waved, his name like honey dripping from your lips. When you reached Lizzie she said something, looking back over her shoulder at him and he heard you giggle. It had his cheeks flushing to his ears and he quickly swatted at them, as if he could tamper down the feeling in his chest.  

You’d been so close, just feet from him, just lingering there and he could see your tattoo. He knew, he’d known since the morning the two headed calf appeared on his arm that it was you. There was no one else it could be and how convenient because he’d been in love with you since you made him a cookies and cream birthday cake in third grade and made everyone at your party include him when they sang ‘Happy Birthday’. He swallowed the lump in his throat, thinking about it. If he told you, that you were his soulmate, that out of everyone in the entire universe you’d been saddled with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, would you be pissed? Would be fake nice about it? Tell him that was good and you didn’t mind while you just about died inside at the news? No, you couldn’t know. He wouldn’t tell you.  

-

-December 1984-

You took another deep breath as you stood outside the door of Eddie Munson’s trailer. You hadn’t seen him since graduation in June but you’d spent more time with him on your mind than not. New York had never been your first choice for college but when you’d been accepted to NYU it was like all you could think about was some parallel world where you and Eddie graduated and moved to a shitty loft and he played gigs in the city with his band and you blew off classes to sleep in with him.  

But you were alone in New York and Eddie was repeating senior year at Hawkins and you thought about him every day and collected a million stories that you hoped would impress him. And right now, two weeks before Christmas, you were standing outside his trailer because you had gained enough perspective to decide that (if you could get your brain to cooperate long enough) you were going to tell Eddie that you were his soulmate.  

You still weren’t cool enough for him but he’d have to get used to that bit cause not seeing him every day made you feel like you were going to go insane.  

He’d called out that he was coming five minutes ago when you first knocked on the door and it’d been followed with a series of loud curses and what sounded like furniture falling over. You thought about knocking again when the door swung open, cheap wood slamming against the wall of the trail and Eddie was staring at you looking very much like he’d just woken up. 

“Hey, sorry I didn’t like...call first or something. I uh, I wasn’t sure if you’d want to but I brought snacks and I figured we never watched The Hobbit like we said we would.” You rattled off your reason for being at his house as quickly as possible as he started at you with wide eyes. You weren’t even sure he remembered that conversation.  

“Come in,” He unlatched the screen door and pushed it open, letting you in passed him. He looked a little bewildered by your presence but didn’t question it. Afterall, who was he to argue when you willing were choosing to spend time with him.  

Eddie’s tattoo was on full display in his short sleeve Black Sabbath shirt and you knew that when you took your jacket off, he would see yours too. But you had come over here with a plan and you were (somewhat) determined to see it through. You set down your tote bag on the coffee table, taking out the package of oreos, two jiffypops, The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings.  

“Sorry to like, force you to hang out with me.” You apologized, turning back to look at Eddie as his hand dropped to his arm so he could itch at the tattoo.  

A deep frown, something more akin to a comical pout, crossed Eddie’s face as he shook his head. “You could probably force me to do anything.” He said and then his eyes went wide, “I mean...uh, it’s fine. No problem.” 

“I was thinking about you-” 

“You were?” 

“I uh...yeah,” you nodded, “I didn’t say anything before graduation but...” You felt like you were moving in slow motion, like maybe you should’ve played some kind of music you were taking so long to unzip your jacket. Eddie was still looking confused, licking his lips nervously and rubbing at his cheek as your coat came off. “Ta-da!” you held your arm out awkwardly so he could see the matching tattoo on your arm.  

A slow smile spread across his face, cheeks turning red up to his ears as he stared down at the tattoo and then, suddenly, he jumped. You stumbled backward a little, startled. Eddie grabbed your arm though it was gentle, “I knew it!” He exclaimed, “I fucking knew it! I said to myself, Eddie, it’s gotta be them. The minute I saw it I knew.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Why didn’t I say anything? Why didn’t you say anything?” He replied.  

You bit down on your bottom lip to stop from smiling at him, “I kinda thought you’d be disappointed...” you admitted. “I mean, you’re really fucking cool-” 

He pressed his free hand to his heart, “ugh, flattery. The way to my heart.” 

“I’m being serious Eddie. I knew it was you and I wanted to tell you so many times I just...I chickened out, I don’t know. I mean, I...tattoo or not, I love you. I really really love you and I went all the way to New York and the whole time I was there I just kept thinking, I wish Eddie was here. I wish we could share this. And I should’ve said something sooner I just...I thought you wouldn’t want to find out that it was me.” You replied.  

“Are you kidding?” He asked, “like seriously, are you joking right now?” Eddie felt like he was being forced through a round of mental gymnastics, trying to decipher how anyone at all, let alone you, could think that he was the catch, all while figuring out what exactly it meant that you were so nervous. It wasn’t bad, he had already determined that there was nothing about this situation (the being soulmates, that was) that you seemed disappointed or upset about. “God!” He let go of you finally as he spun away, hands going to his hair as if he was trying to pull it out. “Oh my god! It’s just...I’ve just...god!” 

“You said that.” You pointed out, tucking your arms in to cross infront of you. The moment you did, Eddie was back to grabbing your arm, his touch warm, the way it had been the morning of your sixteenth birthday. It almost felt like you had some kind of weight holding you down.  

“Can I just...can I kiss you?” He asked, desperation evident in his voice. His heart was beating erratically, or at least he felt like it had to be. He was sure that his brain wasn’t processing any of this and half expected to wake up in some dream-state where Wayne told him that he was still that loser who hasn’t graduated.  

The kiss was...every moment of anticipation since the day of your bowling party in third grade. It was every smile that you gave him in the hallway, the time in fifth grade when you stuck your tongue out at him after the teacher told you to be quiet in line, the day he found you in the library in seventh grade. It was cupcakes in lockers on birthdays and that anonymous Valentine's card that he was sure was just a malicious joke but that he kept in his nightstand just in case it was real. It was the time in sixth grade when you told him his taste in music was cool. It was every wave in the hallway or the lunch room, it was a hall pass to the bathroom just so he could see you in art class as he passed by.  

The kiss felt like warmth spreading throughout your entire body. The kind of warmth that consumed you after you’d bundled up for a cold winter morning walk to school only to have Eddie slow his van to a halt and offer you a ride. The kind of warmth that settled on your cheeks when he told you he liked the poetry you read or that he’d used his allowance money to buy that book by Laura Gilpin. It was the kind of warmth you got from alcohol when your dormmate took you to CBGB’s for the first time and you pretended all night that it was Corroded Coffin on the stage.  

His held your face in his hands, fingers calloused from the guitar brushing against your jaw and neck. You wanted to pull him closer but you weren’t sure that was physically possible. He was pressed against you already and your hands were twisting wrinkles into his Black Sabbath shirt. You’d never kissed anyone before and you weren’t entirely sure you were doing a great job but he wasn’t complaining.  

When you finally felt yourself running out of air, you pulled away. It felt like a chore to detach yourself, even for a moment. “How’d you know?” You asked, Eddie’s comment from earlier popping into your head. He said he had known and he said it with such assuredness you hardly doubted him.  

“It’s your favorite poem,” he replied, “how could I not know?” 

-

But tonight he is alive and in the north 

Field with his mother. It is a perfect 

Summer evening: the moon rising over 

The orchard, the wind in the grass. And  

As he stares into the sky, there are  

Twice as many stars as usual.  

-

Taglist: @teelagurl558 @truewdw1 @kenzi-woycehoski @bookfrog242 @milkiane

[miyagihawk]

Hi love! Could i request something with Miguel where it’s your birthday and it seems as though everyone has forgotten and Miguel hasn’t wished you and hasn’t talked to you all day, so you get pretty pissed and give everyone the silent treatment but in reality he’s been planning things the whole day to make your birthday special!?

so cute, thank you for the request!

surprise! | miguel diaz x reader

warnings: swearing, fluff

summary: your best friend miguel and all of your friends forgot your birthday. or did they?

word count: 1,474

You wake up to the feeling of someone’s hand caressing your hair. You blink a few times to adjust to the sun’s brightness coming from your window, and you see your mom’s face looking down at you.

“Happy birthday sweetheart” she gives you a warm smile, still running her hands through your hair lovingly.

“Thanks mom,” you reply, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“I’m so sorry baby, they just told me I have to cover a late shift today so I won’t be home till 12. I know we were supposed to celebrate, but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow?” your mom explains with a frown etched on her features.

Your face drops too at the thought of being alone on your birthday. But you know your mom can’t control things like that and it’s not her fault. I can probably just hang out with Miguel or something, you think to yourself.

“It’s alright,” you assure her.

-

You love your birthday. It’s the one day of the year when you get treated extra special. You might sound like a prima donna, but you actually love the attention.

As you get ready for your day, you take extra time on how you look. It makes you feel good to put on your favorite outfit and you wear more makeup than usual.

You admire the fresh air as you walk to school. It feels like a perfect day. Maybe you’re biased, but the sun looks brighter than usual and the breeze is sweeter.

But once you get to school, Miguel isn’t there. He always waits for you at the front so that you can walk to your first period together. He’s always there but today he’s nowhere to be found.

Your eyes scan the premises of the schoolfront one last time, before you give up and walk to class by yourself. Maybe he didn’t come to school today? Is he sick?

Once you get to your classroom, you’re proven wrong when you see your best friend already sitting at his desk. Walking over to him, he oddly looks nervous fiddling his pen between his fingers.

“Hey, are you good?” you ask, sitting down in your seat beside him.

“I’m fine, why?” he replies. He doesn’t meet your eyes, just rummaging through his backpack as if he’s trying to keep busy.

“Well you didn’t wait for me like usual,” you bite your lip. He’s acting so strange. Did I do something wrong? you think to yourself. He hasn’t even said happy birthday.

He finally looks at you with a weird expression, “Oh yeah sorry. I needed to ask Mr. Hernandez a question so I came here early.”

“Oh... alright,” you nod, but you aren’t convinced. You’ve known Miguel long enough to know when he’s lying and right now he is. But why?

There’s an awkward silence between you two while you wait for the bell to ring for class to start. As the seconds pass, your feelings get more hurt with the realization that he forgot your birthday. 

-

“Hey guys,” you greet as you take your seat at your friends’ lunch table.

You still feel down from Miguel forgetting your birthday, but you’re sure that at least one of your friends remembered.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam replies with a sweet smile, but she resumes her conversation with Demetri.

Your heart sinks when everyone just goes through lunch normally. No one remembered. You don’t want to remind them, because it would probably make them feel guilty. But you’ve known them for years, and no one else’s birthday gets forgotten.

“Is anyone free after school? I was thinking we could go to that new ice cream place that just opened,” you ask everyone. You realize that you could still make your day special, and sulking at home alone wouldn’t make anything better.

“Oh man, sorry Y/N. We have training after school,” Miguel frowns. You think it’s another lie, but everyone else nods in agreement.

“Right. Maybe another time,” you put on a fake smile. What was supposed to be a perfect day is turning out to be the worst one you’ve ever had.

-

‘Hello Birthday Girl! Do you think you can run to the store and buy some eggs? Love you’ the text from your mom reads. You sigh as you walk out of your last class of the day. You just want to go home and take a huge nap. Maybe cry too. A huge nap and a nice birthday cry sounds perfect.

You finally get to your front door after a trip to the grocery store, and you feel relieved to just be alone after a bad day.

You shuffle off your shoes and walk to the kitchen with the plan to eat your feelings out. It’s oddly dark; the curtains on the windows are drawn so you flip the lightswitch on and-

“SURPRISE!” a chorus of voices yell in unison right as the light turns on, making your heart leap out of your chest and you almost drop the carton of eggs you’re holding. You cover your mouth in shock as you look around the room.

All of your friends are looking at you with wide grins and party hats. Your mom is also there holding colorful balloons, standing by a birthday cake with your name on it. A banner hangs on the kitchen cabinet with the letters ‘Happy Birthday’.

Tears well up in your eyes in overwhelming happiness as everyone comes towards you. “Guys! What is all this?”

Everyone takes their turn to give you a hug and a greeting. You’re still stunned by the unexpected surprise and you can’t believe it’s even real.

“I felt so bad Y/N! I wanted to tell you the truth because you looked so sad. I’m sorry,” Sam explains, and you laugh, not wanting her to feel bad.

“It’s okay Sam, I’m glad you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh my love,” your mom embraces you next, rubbing your back lovingly. “You didn’t think I would leave you all alone on your birthday, did you?”

“Did you plan all of this?” you ask, wiping away a stray tear. You aren’t much of an emotional person, but you were really expecting to be all alone today.

She shakes her head and pushes your hair behind your ear, “No baby, it was your best friend. He loves you very much.”

You look behind her where Miguel leans against the counter, waiting for his own turn to talk to you. He gives you a soft smile as you meet his eyes and your mom nods, giving you permission to go to him.

“Hey,” you say casually while approaching him. It feels kind of awkward, because you were angry with him earlier. But he did all of this for you, so you feel guilty for being mad.

“Happy birthday Y/N,” he finally tells you, saying the words you’ve been hoping for all day.

“This was all your doing?”

“Everyone helped. But it was my idea,” he smiles cockily, making you elbow him in the side and you both break out into laughter.

“And here I was, thinking you forgot. Thinking everyone forgot,” you chuckle, feeling no trace of the sadness from earlier. It almost feels like a joke now that you know the truth about why everyone was acting so weird.

You two watch your group of friends playing a board game in your living room. You love them so much.

“Of course I wouldn’t forget my best friend’s birthday,” Miguel rolls his eyes as if it would be the worst thing in the world. “But I felt like such a dick making you think we did.”

“To be honest, I did think you were a dick,” you muse and he looks at you with his mouth open, offended. “Don’t look at me like that, you ignored me all day!”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he puts up his hands in surrender.

There’s a silence between you both as you continue to watch your friends arguing over the rules of the game they’re playing.

Impulsively you turn to Miguel, and wrap your arms around him in a hug. He’s taken aback for a second, but he quickly puts his arms around your shoulders to hold you close. You don’t see the pink tint on his cheeks as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“Thank you Miggy. This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I love you,” you murmur into his chest and squeeze him tighter in appreciation.

“I’m just the best, aren’t I?” he sighs jokingly. You’re still hugging, and you don’t want to let go.

“You are,” you hum, feeling his heart beat accelerate because your ear rests right where it is.

“I love you too Y/N.”

[newtonsheffield]

Hey Molly!!

I had to watch the finale of one of my favorite TV shows where they killed off the female lead right after she got together with the guy we’ve all been waiting for her to get together with - for 8 years.

It was depressing as heck! But you saved my depressed little heart with Anniversary so first off thank you so much for this awesomeness of an AU, I honestly can’t get enough of it!! ♥️

I read this interesting fic the other day and I was wondering if we could see something along these lines in the BSCU?

Forgive me if this sounds like super weird and feel free to ignore it but I’m a weirdo who likes a touch of angst mixed with the fluff ahhh

Kate gets appendicitis? Anthony is freaked out? Then fluff!

But again, sorry for such a weird ask! You don’t have to do it!!

As always thanks for being so amazing!

You’re truly the best ♥️

Hello! Hello! Hello!

Ugh! I hate when they ruin ships like that! Like thanks for wasting my time!!!

I'm so glad Anniversary made you feel better though!

Ooof Imagine Anthony going absolutely spare because his girlfriend just kind of doubled over and then went really clammy and like it's not because he said he wanted to marry her right?!

(Let's see if it is!)

Anthony couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Kate had been acting a little oddly this morning. They'd been laying in bed this morning, Anthony's arm cushioning Kate's head as she scrolled through social media. "Ugh! Fucking Hell!" Kate had groaned, rolling her eyes. Anthony had made a humming noise looking up from nuzzling at her collarbone. "A girl I went to school with just got married." She said a little scathingly. Anthony had felt his eyebrows raise, "And we hate that because?" His heart thrumming wildly, surely she wasn't upset because she wasn't-? "We hate that because she used to trip me in the hallway, and she also had guests sign their initials on a bird house. I would die." Kate said a little primly. Laughter bubbled in Anthony's chest, echoing through his bedroom. "I promise when we get married, there won't be a bird house in sight." He said unthinkingly. Kate stilled for a moment and then stood from his bed wincing slightly.

"I have to go to Mary's. I promised I'd help her with some stuff." She said quickly, making her way towards the bathroom, leaving Anthony in their bed wondering what on earth had happened.

He'd been making breakfast when she came downstairs, looking a little peaky as he slid the plate towards her, eggs and toast piled high. "Sorry, I'm gonna skip it. I'm feeling a little queasy, and I was just a little sick when I got changed." Anthony felt his brow furrow, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. "I better head off." "Are you sure you should go to Mary's?" concern colouring his voice, his hand reaching out for her forehead. "Anthony, I'm fine. It's probably just... my period starting or... not that I'll be fine." She said swatting his hand away. Kissing his cheek quickly "I'll be back later." "I love you." Anthony called out as she waved back at him.

Anthony spent all morning trying to busy himself around the house. Kate had left in such a rush, she hadn't even looked at her breakfast, had swatted his hands away and as pathetic as it was, he couldn't remember the last time she'd left the house without telling him he loved her. God, had his stupid comment about getting married made her panic? He wanted to marry her, he was certain and they lived together but maybe they weren't at the stage in their relationship where you could casually mention a wedding that hadn't technically been proposed yet. No, he was being ridiculous, he told himself, She'd said she was feeling unwell, she'd been sick, she was feeling queasy this... morning. Oh god. Kate was pregnant. Something fluttered in his stomach at the thought. Would it really be so terrible if she was? They were committed and he was sure that-

His descent into madness was stopped by his phone ringing Edwina Sheffield (Kate from Work's sister) flashing on the screen a smile coming to his face at the joke. "Hey Anthony," Edwina said quickly, continuing before Anthony greet her. "Um I'm going to need you not to panic but Mum and I are just driving Kate to A&E." Anthony's heart stopped he could hear Kate's voice in the background "For fuck's sake Eddie don't tell him like that!" A scuffle for the phone as Anthony fought for breath, panic welling up inside him. "Honey, please don't panic." Kate's voice winced, Anthony's panic abated only very slightly. "Don't panic?! Kate what happened?!" He choked out. "Please don't be mad, but I think I have appendicitis? Can you just come to the hospital?" Anthony was out the door before she could even tell him where.

He burst through the accident and emergency doors startling the desk nurse. "Um Hi," He said his voice high, his breath wrenching from his chest. "My ah.. my wife's mum brought her in a short while ago? Kate Sheffield?!" "Anthony?" Edwina's voice called out from behind the desk, gesturing him through. Anthony shot an apologetic look at the bemused nurse as he skirted around the desk following after Edwina. "So Kate's your wife huh?" Edwina said smirking, nudging his shoulder with her own. Anthony's eyes bulged as he realised what he'd said, floundering a little. 'Shut up, Eddie. Anyway, she might be dying. Hardly the moment for a romantic proposal." He quipped, his stomach rolling. Edwina fixed him with shrewd stare. "Is there going to be a romantic proposal?"

Anthony shrugged, unable to trust the words that would come out of his mouth for a moment. "Probably." Edwina smiled brightly. "Kate's fine by the way. She's being prepped for surgery which means she's a little...high honestly. She's high as a kite." Edwina said pulling back the curtain with a flourish to reveal Mary attempting to wrestle Kate back into bed. "I'm fine Mary promise I just wanna go home to Anthony and our dog!" Kate was saying her voice a little high. Mary sighed. "Katie, when the morphine wears off I think you'll feel differently." "Anthony!" Kate yelled suddenly realising he'd arrived. And Anthony felt himself relax just a little though worry still swirled in his stomach, he didn't have time to worry about himself.

"Katie, can you get back in bed for me?" He said softly, coaxing her back under the covers. "Mary Anthony came! I love Anthony!" Kate sing-songed happily taking his hand. Mary smiled gently. "I know Katie." "Anthony! They're gonna take out my appendix!" Kate said brightly, as though it was the best news she'd ever heard. Anthony chuckled as he ran his hands through her hair. "Do you wanna know a secret?" Kate said in what Anthony was sure was supposed to be a whisper. He nodded suddenly afraid of what she'd say as he sister watched on with amusement. "It's a really good one." She sing songed again. "Before the pain started, I thought I was pregnant!" Anthony's heart stopped as Mary let out an odd squeak Edwina a loud cackle.

"And like I wasn't even mad about it because I wanna have a baby with you! It would be so cute! It might have curly hair, and maybe your nose and your angry little eyebrows!" Kate said happily her finger running over his brows forcing them to frown as she chuckled. "Mary Don't you think my baby with Anthony would be so CUTE?!" "Okay! We're ready for you now!" A Nurse said making to wheel the bed away. "Just maybe think about it!" Kate said happily. "Kate I would love to have this conversation when you aren't high." Anthony said kissing her forehead lightly, his heart pounding as his girlfriend was wheeled down the ward yelling out "I'm not high thank you!"

"Please tell me I didn't say anything too terrible." Kate winced when she woke up, looking ruefully at her jelly as Anthony fussed around her. "Mmmm you just told Mary and Edwina how badly you want to have a baby with me." Anthony chuckled fluffing her pillows. Kate froze, her spoon halfway to her mouth. "You're fucking kidding." "Oh but I'm not. You want it to have my and I quote Angry Eyebrows." Anthony laughed settling himself on the bed beside her. Kate huffed, her eyes darting to him furtively, clearly gauging his reaction. "Well I'm not... opposed to the idea." Anthony's stomach dropped again. He cleared his throat. "Me either." He saw Kate's shoulders relax a smile threatening to burst onto her face. "I might let you recover from this surgery first though." "Oh my god, such a gentleman. Catch me I'm swooning."

[aellynera]

The Best Years of Your Life (Reeves x Reader)

THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE

(hey hey, this is my other submission for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! and yes, you read that right - it’s REEVES. i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it! CONGRATS Amanda!!)

Word Count: um like 6200ish oops it was supposed to be a blurb

Summary: They say the best years of your life happen in high school, but what do they know?

Warnings: Some language. Female reader implied but no pronouns/description. Teenage angst. Adult wistfulness. Mostly fluffy tho. No promises about proofreading. Frog murder. 

with the prompt - “Like what you see?”

It all started back in high school. Sometimes you wonder how often people say that, and if it’s really true or they’re just falsely remembering how things happened because high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life.

But in this case, it’s true. Because high school is when you met Reeves.

Sophomore Year. High School. A Friday. 

It was the third day of sophomore year, fourth period on a Friday morning, your last before the lunch break. Biology class was maybe the one you were least looking forward to, not exclusively because of the required frog dissection, but pretty damn close. Gross. And you never understood why the school year didn’t just start on a Monday, but you were new here in San Diego. Maybe they just did things differently.

It was bad enough being the new kid. It was worse when you walked into class halfway through the lecture, even if it wasn’t your fault. The timing of the move was weird, and you’d spent most of the first two days, and this morning, doing placement tests and talking to your counselor. 

And now you were being called out in front of the entire class.

“Ah, there you are,” your teacher announced as you walked in the door. “Everyone, this is our new student, please make them feel welcome. You can sit over there.”

Your eyes followed as she motioned to the empty seat at the lab table in the back of the room. Suddenly you weren’t sure if your face felt hot because of embarrassment or because of the boy in the other chair.

Dark, curly hair cut close on the sides but longer on the top. Deep brown eyes framed by long, long lashes. Full, plush lips curling up into his cheek on one side. A nose that, okay, maybe might be a bit oversized but for some reason worked on his handsome face and--

Well, shit. Definitely not the embarrassment.

You shuffled your way to your seat and slid into it with your head down. A few students watched you curiously but soon turned their attention back to the lesson. You tried your best to focus on what was going on, to not look to your left at the distraction next to you.

You weren’t very successful.

By now you thought you’d sneaked enough covert glances to know that we was wearing a leather jacket, had a small diamond stud earring in his left ear, a bunch of silver-studded brown suede wrap bracelets around both wrists, a silver ring on his right index finger, and oddly precise handwriting as he took notes. In between relevant facts the teacher was sharing, he was doodling tiny music notes in the margins of his notebook.

And he totally caught you looking.

“Like what you see?” he leaned over and whispered.

Your mouth felt drier than the Sahara but also somehow so moist you were afraid you might have actually drooled on yourself. You should have opened your mouth to respond but your brain refused to make the connection. Probably for the best.

At least, at first. When it finally caught up to you, the only response your brain could provide was, “Maybe?”

Now would be the perfect time for the floor to swallow you whole.

He just winked at you and his attention went back to the doodles around his notes.

You shifted your gaze back to your own notebook, but you don’t know if anything else of importance was said, and don’t remember writing anything down. The bell ringing sharply pulled you back to reality and you hastily shoved your books in your backpack, ready to escape.

Just as you were about to leave, a voice called out. “Hey, sorry about earlier. If I freaked you out or anything.”

You looked up. He was smiling at you, a little shyly. You bit your lip, your brain and mouth still refusing to connect.

He stuck his hand out. “I’m Reeves. You’re new here?”

“Um…” you smacked yourself internally. This was ridiculous, you weren’t really shy, you knew how to have a conversation, he was just introducing himself. You were going to have a serious conversation with your brain later about proper communication techniques.

It felt like hours had passed, but you finally pulled yourself together enough to respond. “Yeah. My- my dad got transferred for work, we moved here like a week ago. He literally dragged the family across the country. I’m originally from New York City.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! I always wanted to go to New York City!”

You found yourself smiling back.

“Do you...wanna sit with me at lunch?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe you could tell me a little about the city? And...about you, since we’re gonna have to commit heinous acts of violence on an amphibian together? I’d like to know who’s wielding a scalpel next to me.”

The giggle that escaped your throat could not be contained. This boy - Reeves - was adorable. “Oh. Okay, yeah. I’d really like that.”

The Present.

Poor Lenny the Frog never stood a chance. Then again, neither did you.

To be fair, Lenny was already dead when you and Reeves got your hands on him. Well, when you got your hands on him, because for the full first half of that specific class period, Reeves refused to touch him and nearly turned as green as Lenny once was. That’s when he insisted on naming your cadaver, because somehow giving it a name made it easier to deal with.

You were pretty sure Reeves was nuts.

By the middle of sophomore year, you were dead too, but not for the same reasons.

By the middle of sophomore year, you weren’t sure how you were still alive, because every time he looked over at you and gave you a sly smile during class, gave you that look, you felt your heart go taut and you forgot how to breathe and certainly, rightfully, should have been dead.

Your friend Alexis stuck her head into your bathroom. “Hey, we’re just waiting on Vanessa, and then we’re good to go. Drinks first? The show doesn’t start until 8 so we have time.”

You glanced up from your makeup and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Alexis grinned. “Aaaaaah I’m so glad you agreed to go out tonight! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Oh, it’s gonna be something,” you muttered, going back to your eyeliner.

Alexis had been the first one to see the concert announcement about a week ago. A benefit show at one of the clubs down in Greenwich Village, some punk revival thing (for charity) with a bunch of different singers and musicians. Not normally your scene, but Alexis scanned through the names and suddenly remembered you’d known Reeves in high school. You said yes, he was in your class, and you’d been lab partners once. Vanessa squealed in excitement and Alexis announced you were going to the show. There was never any actual agreement.

Because of course Reeves was going to be there. And of course, you had to be too.

Junior Year. The Parking Lot. A Tuesday.

“I’m just saying, it was a ridiculous foul, and it should never have been called,” Reeves groused as you walked out of the gym.

“We also should have made like twenty more of our own foul shots,” you pointed out.

The Lake Howell Silverhawks had fallen to their arch-rivals in a somewhat glorious fashion. You didn’t even like basketball that much. But that didn’t really matter. The games were just an excuse to go out for burgers before and hang out with your friends during.

It was definitely an excuse to hang out with Reeves.

Junior year, you were both disappointed to find you didn’t have any classes together, but you still almost always ate lunch together. He’d come over to your house to study during the week and sometimes just to chill out on the weekends. Over the past year, he’d shown you all around the city and taken you to his favorite places. You told him all about New York, how you missed it and one day you’d go back, and all the famous sites and which ones were tourist traps that he was only allowed to visit the very first time and then never again.

You spent so much time together, even your mother liked to tease you about why he wasn’t your boyfriend.

It took a while for you to find the words to tell her it was because he was someone else’s.

As much as you liked to pretend she didn’t change anything, Randie Rustenberg changed everything. It was gradual, like a creeping vine of ivy, and she slowly took him over. There was no malice; it was just one of those things that happened. Reeves spent less time with you, his best friend, and more time with Randie, his girlfriend.

The girlfriend you desperately wished was you, because ever since that first biology class you’d had the biggest, stupidest crush on him.

Eventually you had a boyfriend of your own. Theo was a nice guy, he really was. Polite, friendly, had a good sense of humor, liked your family. And your family loved him. Your mother was so happy that you had a boyfriend, she seemed to forget to ask how Reeves was and if you’d seen him lately.

Of course you saw him. You saw him every day, in the cafeteria, at his locker, passing by in the halls. Sometimes you could find him playing the grand piano on the stage in the empty auditorium. Yes, if your mother bothered to ask, you saw Reeves all the time. Now it was just always with her.

Except this week. It was a break of sorts, no classes, just some sports and other school activities. Randie was on some trip with her parents for some kind of church function, and Theo was fishing with his dad on some lake up north. He’d told you where, but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to recall. So when a bunch of your friends and a bunch of his friends all said everyone was going to the basketball game, there was no debate.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

Sometime during the game, your friends wandered off to the snack bar and never ventured back. His friends started a game of hacky-sack under the bleachers. And you found yourself pretending to understand all the finer points about hoops strategy, cheering and yelling along with Reeves and having a great time, just like you used to.

“Where’d you park?” he asked as you left the gym and headed out into the sea of cars. You vaguely pointed in the direction of yours and he grinned. “Oh, good, I’m that way too. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

The faint glow emitted by the lampposts in the parking lot bounced off his curls and his eyes, when you could catch a glimpse, were bright beneath them.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

The walk wasn’t very far, but it felt like it was over in a second. You hadn’t said anything on the way, just soaked in the comfort of walking next to him as he kept commenting on the game.

He was waving his hands everywhere, looking at them as he talked as if his hand motions would make things make any more sense to you, in the middle of saying something about your center and how they needed to get better about blocking out when you finally spoke.

“Oh, shit.”

Reeves looked up at you. “What, you don’t agree?”

You dropped your bag on the ground and rolled your eyes. “No, my car is locked and I left my keys inside.” You pointed to the passenger seat. Your keys stared back at you derisively.

You both stared back at them for a moment, then he grinned. “Hang on, I got you.” He held up one finger and trotted off to his car, coming back a minute later with something in his hand. “This should take care of it.”

You took a step back. “Reeves? Um. Okay, why do you have a coat hanger in your car.”

He rolled his eyes back at you. “For emergencies, duh.” He quickly twisted the hanger into a hook shape and went to your passenger side window.

“And why do you know how to break into a car with said coat hanger?”

“Like I told you,” his tongue poked out between his teeth as he worked, “for emergencies. You think I haven’t locked my own keys in my car once or six times?”

“Did Randie teach you how to do this?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. She probably had. She might have been churchy when required, but she was also responsible for about half of Reeves’s stints in detention (the other half just being him making the wrong joke at the wrong time and pissing a teacher off.)

Thank god he didn’t seem to hear you as he kept working at the lock. Finally you heard a *click* and he pumped a fist into the air with a little “yessss!”

And then you’re not really sure what happened. You bent down to pick up your bag and then you were standing up and Reeves’s face was literally about three inches away from yours and for the eight thousandth time since you’d know him, you forgot how to breathe.

Neither of you said anything for what felt like days. You just stared at each other under the dim halo of the parking lot lights.

“Here you go.” He took your hand and dropped your keys into it.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Like what you see?” the corners of his mouth quirked up, just the slightest little bit.

“...Maybe.”

And the staring recommenced. Were you two getting closer? Physically closer, you meant, of course you were close, you’d always been close. Well, at one time you were really close but then Randie Restenberg happened and it wasn’t fair that she got to know what those lips felt like and did he always smell this good or--

“Yo, Reeves!” A pickup truck full of guys skidded to a stop behind your car and one of his friends - Jake? Jack? you barely remembered your own name right now - stuck his head out the window. “Fight to the death ping pong tourney at Matt’s house! You in?”

Reeves bit his lip and closed his eyes for a second before he pulled back with a soft “I’m sorry” before turning to his friends. “Um, yeah, sure. Sounds brutal. I’ll meet you there.” 

The pickup sped off, tires screeching out of the parking lot. Reeves turned back to you, but you’d already gotten into your now unlocked car and started the engine.

You rolled down the window a fraction and gave him a weak smile. “Hey, um. Thanks for saving my butt. Now go kick theirs at ping pong, yeah?” Your face felt so hot, and for once you were grateful for the dim lights in the lot.

“You could, um, come along if- if you want.”

“Nah, I’m...I’m tired, I’m just gonna...um, head home. But I’ll see you tomorrow maybe?”

Reeves looked like he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stepped onto the curb in front of your car, smiled, and raised his hand in a little wave as he watched you drive off.

The Present.

A series of shrieks and the slamming of the door told you Vanessa had finally arrived. It sounded like they were jumping up and down on the tile just inside your front door, which was ridiculous since you’d all just seen each other the day before. But typical.

You smoothed a pinkie under your eye, checked your makeup one final time, and went into the living room.

“Oh, you look hot,” Vanessa gushed. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and plopped down on your couch. “Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

“Reeves, of course,” Alexis laughed, leaning on the kitchen counter. She sorted anything she might need from her big purse into a little evening bag as she talked. “You know we go to all his shows. And you know they went to high school together.”

You snorted. “That was a long time ago. I’m not even sure he’d remember me.”

Vanessa waggled her eyebrows. “You’re probably right, No offense, honey, but no one was that hot back in high school.”

He was, your brain supplied. Very helpful. You smiled wanly.

Vanessa continued. “But you were friends, right? You’ve never really talked about it. God, it must be so cool now to think that you were friends with Reeves back when he was an awkward high school teenager.”

“Reeves was never awkward,” you laugh. “It was kind of unfair.”

“But you totally had a crush on him,” Alexis offered.

Had? What do you mean, had? Oh my god, shut up, brain.

A pillow flew in your direction and you ducked as Vanessa giggled and Alexis rolled her eyes. “Come on, tell us something about him,” Vanessa goaded. “Wait. Was he, like, your prom date? That’s your secret! You totally went to prom with Reeves and you never told us!”

Senior Year. Prom. A Saturday.

The night was not supposed to go this way.

It was supposed to be limousines and corsages and dinner with dates and friends. It was supposed to be endless pictures while your mother told you how gorgeous you looked and how handsome he was and your father gave a thinly-veiled shovel talk about how he knew what happens on prom night and what would really happen if that actually happened. It was supposed to be punch and cookies and balloons. It was supposed to be dancing closer than the chaperones were comfortable with and kissing with tongue when they weren’t looking.

It was supposed to be the best night of your life. It was supposed to be fun.

Nowhere in your weeks of dreaming of this night did it involve sitting on a bench in the girls’ locker room, knees pulled up to your chest, while the party carried on in the gym just beyond.

It definitely didn’t involve crying.

The bass beats of the deejay and the harmony of laughter temporarily got louder as the locker room door opened, and then faded back into a muted thumping as the door closed again a second later. You could hear footsteps headed in your direction but before you could unfold yourself and wipe your tears away, a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, there you are!”

Being able to find the words to describe how he looked in his tux, his curls slightly tamed by some gel, the blue rose (of course it would be an off color, why would he pick something standard?) pinned to his lapel, his lopsided grin… Finding the words was nearly impossible.

Of course he would show up now. Because your night wasn’t already crappy enough and half the reason you were sitting there weeping instead of out there dancing was standing right in front of you.

You realized that wasn’t fair. It was probably more like, twenty-five percent of the reason, and it wasn’t his fault. But that didn’t make it any better.

“Why are you in the girls’ locker room, Reeves?” you sniffled.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his nose scrunched up in concern as he took in your mascara-streaked cheeks and puffy red eyes. “One of your friends said you came in here like half an hour ago and nobody’s seen you since. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly not.” He sat down next to you. “Wanna talk about it?”

A deep, shaky sign left your chest. You didn’t really want to talk about how, earlier in the evening, you’d excused yourself to use the restroom and come back to the gym to find Theo dancing with...you didn’t remember her name, nor did you care. You didn’t mind that he was dancing with another girl, in theory, but it was another matter entirely when his hands were on her ass and she was sucking a deep purple mark into his neck. And he was laughing. 

A short, vicious argument ensued in the coat room after you’d cut in and dragged him off by the elbow. And it turned out that he’d been seeing whats-her-name for months, somehow, behind your back while pretending that everything was perfect with you. When he was supposedly visiting his grandparents? He was with her. When he had to work an extra shift? He was with her. When he got off the phone with you, saying he needed to get to bed early? He was calling her.

Prom wasn’t supposed to involve a very public break-up.

And things didn’t get any better when, deciding you needed something to drink, you went back into the gym and immediately saw Reeves and Randie, dancing cheek to cheek, arms snugly wrapped around each other as a soft, romantic song wafted through the air. Because of course he was with her. She was his girlfriend and Reeves wasn’t a detestable cheating asshole.

There was always another her.

You couldn’t handle it.

So you took off to somewhere almost guaranteed to be empty. You figured the locker room wasn’t really the kind of place kids would want to make out, and you were right. It was blessedly empty. Until now.

But you couldn’t tell him the second part, so you just went with the first. His eyes got wide as you blubbered through the sordid details of Theo being a complete and utter twat. Another quivery sob half-burst from you and Reeves got up. He grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to you as he sat back down.

“Thanks,” you hiccuped.

“I never liked him,” Reeves announced.

You found yourself choking on a huff of air. “What? Yes you did! Everybody loved him. That’s what makes it extra shitty.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

Reeves cocked his head and looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “Did you love him?”

Your mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Why did you always seem to forget how to make words when Reeves asked you questions?

“What?”

He shrugged. “Everyone else loved him. Did you?”

You used every last ounce of willpower you had to not jump up on that bench and shout that of course you didn’t love Theo, you idiot, because I love you.

That would not make this night any easier.

The next thing you knew, Reeves put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, hugging you soundly. He rested his cheek on the top of your head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re better off without him.”

You dabbed at your eyes. Nope, still couldn’t make words.

Minutes, hours, days. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, pressed to him and feeling him breathe beneath you. You no longer had any idea how long it had even been since everything crashed around you and he’d come to try and help you pick up the pieces. You just listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady, as the muffled music and joyful shouts of classmates went on past the closed door.

Finally he spoke again. “Hey, you wanna get one of those complimentary pictures?”

“What?” Oh, great. You were finally able to answer his question but you could still only come up with that one word? Stupid brain.

“Well, I…” he sat up straight and, after the briefest look into your eyes, he glanced away. Was he blushing? You weren’t sure. “I always kind of...I kind of thought we’d have a prom picture together. I mean, I just figured, y’know, we’d go with a bunch of friends, but I always hoped I’d get a picture with my best friend.”

The sniffles were back in an instant. Damn him. “Reeves, I...you really want to get a picture now? I look horrible, I can’t get a picture taken like this!”

He took the paper towel from your hand and gently dabbed at your cheeks. “You couldn’t look horrible if you tried. Come on, it’ll be fun. And just think how excited your mom will be when she gets a copy of it.”

Despite your best efforts, you had to laugh. “Okay.”

You headed to the photo area after you washed your face, Reeves helped you wipe off the stray streaks of mascara, and you reapplied just a bit of makeup to make yourself feel better. You were never sure what Reeves said to the photographer before the shots, but he seemed quite happy to take multiples. Reeves stayed pressed against your back with his arms down around your waist, hands clasped together in front of you, for each and every one.

At some point between the second and third shot, he leaned just a little closer into you and you suddenly felt his breath against your ear. “Like what you see?”

For maybe the first time that entire night, your face broke into a genuine smile. “Maybe.”

For a few minutes, your night was absolutely perfect.

The Present.

It was the greatest date that never was.

“No, Reeves was not my prom date,” you told your friends with a shake of your head.

You left out most of the other details, partly because you didn’t want to answer eight hundred questions from Vanessa and partly because, well, you just wanted those moments for yourself.

After the pictures, Reeves had asked if you would like to dance. Until then you didn’t realize it was possible for eyebrows to shoot that far up a person’s forehead, but yours were up for the challenge. You’d mumbled something about if Randie would mind, because you were sure she absolutely would, but he brushed it off. Randie had gone off with her friends when he came to find you, and he really wanted to dance with you, just one dance with his frog murder accomplice. And he said that with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye and there was no way you could refuse.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

One dance turned into two, and then several, until the girlfriend in question finally did show back up and Reeves was pulled away, leaving you with a soft smile and a mouthed “sorry”.

Definitely the greatest never-date.

After prom, life returned to what vaguely resembled normal. Your love life sucked and Reeves still had a girlfriend that wasn’t you, and you didn’t see him much. To be fair, the end of senior year and graduation did creep up pretty fast so there wasn’t a lot of time anyway. Graduation was there before you knew it; he cheered for you and you cheered for him as you each walked across the stage. You made brief appearances at each others’ graduation parties and talked a bit and then, once again before you knew what happened next, it was time to leave for college.

You went back to New York. Reeves stayed on the west coast.

And over the years, like so many other people before you and after you, you just fell out of touch.

“And anyway,” you asserted, “we were just kind of friends. Yeah, like I told Alexis before, we were lab partners sophomore year, and we hung out sometimes, but that was it. Really.”

Alexis snorted and Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm.”

You threw the pillow back at her. “Mmmhmm.”

“All right, you two,” Alexis chided. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Somehow, you managed to get down to Greenwich Village without further interrogation and minimal shenanigans.

The Present. One Hour Later. Another Saturday Night.

The bar inside the club was pretty packed. Granted, it was a Saturday night down in The Village, so it wasn’t too uncommon, but you were honestly surprised that this many people showed up for a punk retrospective.

There were a few other relatively big-name acts you recognized on the bill, and a fair number of people were wearing t-shirts with Reeves’s most recent album cover on the front. There were even a few that had shirts with his face on it, which was frankly kind of weird.

“Looks like you’re not his only number one fan,” Vanessa smirked.

“I just enjoy his music,” you said off-handedly as you tried to flag down a bartender. “But anyway, tonight isn’t even about him. We’re just here to support charity, right?”

Alexis pretended to agree with you. “Right.”

You glared at both of them before turning your attention back to the bar. Yes, you came to every one of his shows in the area. When you had time. When you could take the night off. When you could rearrange your schedule and switch shifts at the last minute and promise favors to be able to attend them. When you maybe once or twice just called out sick because nothing else worked. So what.

They were really starting to get on your nerves. 

The bartender finally noticed you and took your order, and you looked around the club again while you waited.

Lots of people, ranging from just-allowed-to-buy-booze to mid-sixties businessmen. A few folks that looked to currently be in their golden years but were clearly once punks in their prime. Many people in black and chains and mohawks and neon hair and piercings, to the point where you honestly couldn’t tell who was a performer and who was a patron.

The one person you were looking for was the one that you couldn’t pick out of the crowd.

“He’s gotta be here somewhere!” Vanessa’s voice shouted from somewhere behind your shoulder.

“Vanessa, you’re getting a little weird about this,” you called back as you grabbed your drink and turned around.

“Like what you see?”

Eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open, you almost dropped your full glass.

Vaguely, nearby, you heard the sound of glass shattering and shot a glance to your left. Alexis really had dropped her drink, and Vanessa was clutching onto her arm for dear life. She was holding her glass at a slightly odd angle and the contents were dripping onto one of her shoes.

The crowd silently pulsed backwards as one, clearing out around the four of you for a respectable distance. Several people watched curiously; surprisingly, they just stood back and stared instead of trying to get involved.

Reason Number One why you really couldn’t blame them: Reeves stood there, right in front of you. Literally less than two feet away, looking right at you. His mouth pulled up into his familiar lopsided grin, his hair still dark but shot through with strands of silver, curly on the top and shorter on the sides. His nose with the little dent, perfect on his face under those dark, luminous brown eyes and...holy shit, was he wearing eyeliner? He was wearing eyeliner.

Reason Number Two why you really couldn’t blame them: Leather pants. Under his old, faded t-shirt and black leather jacket (you were used to seeing him in brown, but you had to admit the black looked good) he was wearing leather pants.

Reason Number Three why you really couldn’t blame them: Quite simply, Reeves was standing in the middle of a bar in New York City and he was talking to you.

You blinked once, then twice. You may have blinked more times but all you could think about was the fact that, after all these years, your brain still couldn’t make words when Reeves asked you a question.

That same old question.

Suddenly you were grinning back, completely ignoring your friends and their dumbfounded squawking and sputtering next to you. You were smiling because even though your brain couldn’t make full sentences of words, it could pull one particular word out of the void and let it come out past your lips.

“Maybe.”

Reeves grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and the crinkles at the corners deepening.

Someone - maybe Vanessa, maybe a total stranger, you couldn’t be sure - might have swooned from the sidelines.

“Always told you I wanted to come to New York,” he said.

“Always told you I’d go back.”

And the next thing you knew, the next thing that made any sense anywhere in your mind, was that Reeves had stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and placed the softest, sweetest, most heart-achingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You pulled away in a daze, felt the heat rising in your cheeks, as you heard a muffled choking sound halfway behind you. Definitely Vanessa.

Alexis and Vanessa’s eyes, already bugging out of their faces, nearly fell out of their sockets when Reeves turned to address them.

“Hey, ladies. I’ll come talk to you after the show, but for now, I just need to borrow your friend for a few minutes, okay?”

There were somehow still more bizarre, mostly inhuman noises that came out of your friends and even later, when they’d deny ever acting like that in front of a famous rock star (and rolled their eyes at you when you corrected them that he was a musician, not a rock star), it wouldn’t matter because you weren’t paying a single bit of attention to them them anyway.

You only had eyes for one person.

He took your hand and pulled you past the bar, into a little room in the back; the office, presumably. The second you were both inside, he wrapped his arms around your waist and looked you in the eyes. He just stared for a few minutes, or maybe hours, you weren’t sure.

It really didn’t matter.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered.

“Third day of school, fourth period biology class, sophomore year?”

Reeves smiled softly. “The second you walked in that door.”

“Why didn’t you?” you tilted your head to look at him. Okay, to gaze into his eyes. You tilted your head to gaze into his eyes and your subconscious hoped to any gods that would listen that you did not have actual hearts or stars in your pupils.

Not that it really mattered.

His arms never left you but he gave a little shrug. “Never seemed to be the right time. And then I had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “And I ended up with that lame excuse for a boyfriend. But do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?”

“When you couldn’t stop staring at me when you sat down at the lab table next to me?”

“Hmmm, maybe. But definitely when you told the teacher we had to have a funeral for Lenny.”

“Hey, Lenny was a fuckin’ hero,” Reeves batted his eyes at you innocently. “He performed a brave and great service to his country.”

“I am oddly happy you’re still an idiot,” you giggled.

“I’m ecstatic that you kept coming to all my shows in the city.”

You pulled back slightly and looked at the ceiling. “You noticed?”

Reeves gave you that look. That look he always gave you, when you were teenagers, when you said something either completely ridiculous or completely profound. That look he gave you when he thought you might not be looking, even though you were always looking. That look that said he always had your back and you were his best friend. That look that you thought you’d be lucky to see one more time but probably never would.

That look.

“Of course I noticed. I thought about having security make you stay back, but that’s just...no. You always looked happy, and I don’t know...I just didn’t want to intrude, I guess? Just always wondered why you never stuck around after the shows, never stayed to talk to me, never came knocking on the dressing room door.”

You thought about that for a minute. You really did try, but you couldn’t come up with a decent answer. You were happy. Just seeing him was enough, you told yourself. Just hearing him sing was enough, just being in the same room with him, just being near. Just like it was back in high school.

Only it wasn’t high school anymore, and now that he’d finally, finally - after years of would’ve and should’ve and maybes - kissed you, you knew enough wasn’t going to be, well, enough.

So that’s what you told him.

And Reeves pulled you close, leaned in closer, and kissed you again.

You pulled apart, breathless again, and rested your foreheads together.

After minutes, or maybe days, or maybe hours, and definitely years - it didn’t really matter - Reeves was there. You were there. And for once, you were really there together.

“Like what you see?”

“...definitely.”

The Future. Any Day. Every Day.

You always thought, and your friends always said, that the best years of your life happened in high school. And to a certain extent, that was true and you believed in that notion for a very long time.

But ever since that night, that one glorious night in a Manhattan bar, you realized you were wrong.

The best years of your life were still happening.

~end~

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[atinyarmyzen]

𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓂𝑒?

𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐱 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: brief mention of injury, some swearing

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: period setting, angst, fluff, you are the only child of a noble family who is an aspiring writer (much to your mother’s distaste), and one day to run into an old friend. 

𝐚/𝐧: this took way too long to write so sorry if you’ve been waiting a while, this idea popped into my head and I started writing it like a month ago on and off. I hope you enjoy this v fluffy dramatic ghost au!

You don’t know him, but he knows you. Yuta had been a lingering spirit in this house for over a century, and he has grown quite fond of you over the years. He used to be your “friend” when you were little, but you had long since forgotten him. It broke his heart, but he still loved watching you while you wandered around the huge manor, he loved your singing and watching you read by the window. He had grown content with the arrangement, him admiring you and you never noticing, until one day- you do.

Your family had lived in the house for a couple generations, though the huge manor has been there for hundreds of years before you. Your mother and father were nobles who owned a sizable chateau in the countryside. You were expected to be a debutant and were to be married off to some other noble. It felt more like being sold in your eyes, and you wanted no part of it. Rather than going to parties and balls you preferred to read your books and run around barefoot in the huge meadows. It was lonely considering you were the only child, but you didn’t mind. You preferred the people in your books, and would often visit places all around the world through the stories you read.

Yuta had been the spirit of the house for as long as he could remember. He could barely recall his mortal life, and his life as a spirit felt like eternity even though he had only been dead 100 years. He knew you since you were quite small, and you knew him. You were the only person that had ever actually seen him, and your sweet friendly soul made him feel like wasn’t alone - trapped on the other side of existence. You would often run down the long hallways together, laughing and giggling the whole way. To your parents, it just looked like you running around alone, and they often just passed it off as you being having a wild imagination.

Those were the best days of Yuta’s existence, but it was not to last. As you grew older, your “imagination” began to fade away. One day, Yuta found you where you normally were, in the library by your favorite window. He smiled as he snuck up on you, prepared to playfully spook you like he always would. Except when he jumped out in front of you, you didn’t move a muscle. You kept your eyes trained on the book as if you heard nothing.

“Y/N?” he questioned. Nothing.

He kneeled down in front of you, his big doe eyes looking up into your face as your eyes continued darting across the page. “Y/N?, what’s wrong?” he asked again, thinking you were just giving him the cold shoulder. “Have I done something wrong?” he pleaded, his brows knitted in concern. Yuta reached out his hand and cupped your face, he noticed the sun rays seeping through his ghostly form as he touched your soft cheek. Instead of meeting his eyes, you simply shivered and pulled the window shut as if there was a draft. Yuta drew his hand back, can’t you see him?

He heard your mother call you from the other room, your head immediately perked up in response. “Coming mother!” you announced as you closed your book and got up to leave. Yuta watched in horror as you walked right through him out of the room, his eyes pricked with tears as he watched his best friend leave. His heart shattered, he had never loved anyone so much and it seemed like you had all but forgotten him.

Years past and you grew into a young adult. You attended school, went to parties - or rather forced to go by your parents, and talked to what seemed like hundreds of bumbling idiots who just wanted to marry you for you family fortune. The only solace you found was in your library where you could escape to far off places in books, or running around with your small dog in the fields. Yuta had no choice but to watch you grow, and soon his fondness for the small child he knew grew into love for the beautiful angel that graced the halls of the estate. He had become content with his situation- as long as he got to admire you from afar, it did not matter if you could not see him.

Until one day.

You had become absolutely fed up with your parents incessant need to marry you off. Dinner, like always, turned into a debate over your free will.

“I’d rather chew glass than marry that fool.” you spat as you pushed the food around your plate.

“Y/n, stop being so ridiculous. Don’t pretend you never expected this time to come.” Your mother retorts.

“I’m sorry darling, but we have already discussed the arrangement with his family,  you can’t pull out now.” Your father added.

“I wish his dad pulled out but here we are.” You quipped under your breath.

Your father choked on his food and tried his best to stifle his laugh at your little joke. Your mother was less than pleased and scowled at you from across the table.

She shot daggers at your father. “I blame you for her mouth.”

“Would it really be that horrible if I didn’t marry? My literature instructor says I have a talent in writing and that I should consider publishing my stories. I could be so much more than somebody’s prize.” You said with an almost pleading tone.

“I won’t have my daughter becoming some kind of spinster lady. Can’t you see what’s best for your family?” Your mother said, sounding deflated. Your father kept his gaze down.

“I think “what’s best for me” are the words you’re looking for.” you seethed before you loudly pushed your chair back and sped out of the room.

You were too upset to even think about where you were going so your instincts took you right to the library where you sat on your seat by the tall glass window in a huff. All of it, the anger, frustration, sadness began to come to a boiling point. It felt like an elephant was sitting on your chest. Tears pricked your eyes and despite your best efforts they began to fall.

Yuta had heard the whole exchange at dinner, and watched from the corner of the room as your body heaved in sobs. It felt like someone was shoving a spike through his heart- he knew you. He knew you better than anyone, they way you prefer animals to people, your favorite books that you read through so many times the pages have worn, the way your eyes light up when you find inspiration for your stories. He knew what your dreams were- and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He felt helpless, he decided he would do his best to comfort you even if you couldn’t see him, maybe you could feel him. Just as he started towards you he knocked over a stack of books. He cringes at the sudden noise which instantly made you jump and whirl around.

“Hello?” you said, startled.

Yuta dashed behind a bookshelf, although he mentally kicked himself for it because you couldn’t see him anyway. You got up and cautiously stepped forward.

“Mother?” you called. There was no way the wind knocked that huge pile over.

You felt the hair on your arms and neck stand up. You realized that you were supposedly alone, but the sickly chilling feeling in your gut said otherwise. Despite your every nerve screaming at you to get the hell out of the room you moved closer to the corner where the noise came from. You were stopped dead in your tracks when you heard a faint shuffling behind the tall book shelf. You gulped and peeked into the shadows.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you thought it was going to be something that would haunt you forever. Instead, you found nothing but what looked like a young man sitting on the floor with his hands covering his eyes. He looked just as scared as you were. He hadn’t noticed you yet, and you studied his appearance a little closer. His form was shifty, as if he was not solid, he looked though he was dressed from a hundred years ago. He had long, sliver tresses that reached down the nape of his neck and brushed his forehead. He had delicate features and full, pink lips. You smiled at the boy, there was something so sincere and endearing about him.

You decided to clear your throat to announce yourself, “Ahem”.

The boy gasped and ripped his hands away from his face. He looked up at you with huge, sparkly dark eyes and you were sure you could see your reflection in. Something about his eyes struck you- they were oddly familiar. You stared at each other for a while before he snapped out of his trance and quickly stood up. You were taken aback at how you were suddenly looking up at him, he looked to be about your age.

“You can see me?” He finally spoke.

“Of course I can.” You replied as if you see him everyday.

“Do you remember me?” Yuta said quietly.

“Remember you? I’ve only just met you.” You stared at him quizzically

Yuta’s heart sank, he thought maybe after seeing him for the first time in years you would recognize him. Still, he was thrilled you could see him at all.

“Are you afraid?” the boy asked.

“Should I be?” you retorted.

He chuckled. “No, not of me at least.” He grinned.

This was the second time he made your heart do flips in the span of 30 seconds. His smile was enchanting. It made you feel safe, warm, and again- he seemed oh so familiar. You felt like you could trust him with your life, and you had no idea why.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Good. I’m y/n.” You said, reaching out your hand.

Yuta stared at your hand for a minute before he took it in his and lifted it to his lips. You were taken aback, expecting a handshake. He pressed a kiss to the back on your hand while keeping eye contact with you. You gasped slightly, his hands felt cool, but his lips were warm. His gaze was so intense compared to moments ago, and it sent shivers up your spine.

“I know. I’ve known you since you were quite small.” He smiled as he straightened up again. “I’m Yuta, I’m the spirit that lives in this house.”

“Well Yuta, it’s nice to finally know you. How can I see you?” You asked

“Very few humans can at your age, usually it’s just children.” Yuta explained.

“I see.” You reached out to touch his face. “May I?”

Yuta nodded. You gently touched his cheek, it felt like a thick, cool air. He lifted his hand to cover yours. You noticed you could see your hand through his shifty one. “Can you feel anything?” You asked curiously.

“Barely, I can only feel warmth, but no sensation like I did when I was alive.” He said flatly.

“Wow.” You said, astonished that you were actually speaking to a fully materialized spirit.

Yuta chuckled at your child-like wonder. “You know you don’t have to go through with it.” He said after a short silence.

“What?” You say, puzzled. “You heard that?”

Yuta smiled shyly. “Yeah, most of it.” He said fidgeting with his hands. He then looked up at you with wide eyes. “Not that I eavesdrop or watch you all the time- I just- well- “ He began to panic. You laughed and reached up to “touch” his shoulder comfortingly.

“Don’t worry- I don’t think you’re a pervert.” You said, giggling.

Yuta sighed. “Oh, good. I didn’t realize that sounded rather creepy.” He laughed nervously.

You laugh again. “I’m glad there’s someone I can get along with around here. I would tell you to make yourself at home but you were here long before me.” You turned to pick up some of the fallen books and start putting them back in their respective places.

Yuta leaned his shoulder against the shelf with his arms crossed, smiling fondly at you as you move around the room, going on about the different books you’ve been reading. I felt like no time had passed, like everything was right in the world again.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ • ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

From that day forward, Yuta became your confidant. Being as you were the only one that could see him, you figured there was no harm in telling him all of your secrets, fears, and dreams. On top of that, there was something about Yuta that felt incredibly safe. Even if he were alive, he would still be your closest friend.

If you spent a lot of time alone before, it was like you were a hermit now. You really left the library, and sometimes it even sounded like you were talking to yourself. Your mother pressed her ear to the large wooden door, curious as to who you were talking to.

“That girl, she worries me.” She said, knowing for a fact you were alone in there.

Despite the growing concern of your parents, you were the happiest you had been in a long time. Yuta was always with you, he made you belly laugh until your ribs hurt, always wanted you to read him your stories, and he told you stories from when he was alive.

“I am 125 years old you know.” he said after he finished telling you about his childhood.

“You don’t look a day over 25.” You said sarcastically.

“Oh stop, you make my blush.” He said exaggerating his gestures.

“If you could even blush.” You quipped

He feigned a shocked gasp. “How rude Miss Y/n. I thought you were a lady.” Yuta fired back with a smirk.

You snickered. “If being a lady means I have no sense of humor, then I’m no lady.”

Yuta chuckled at you, your unapologetic attitude was one of the things he adored about you. His gaze lingered for a bit as you concentrated on the book in your hands.

“You know you don’t have to go through with it.” He said suddenly changing the subject.

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“You don’t have to marry that pompous ass if you don’t want to.” He clarified.

You scoffed. “Yuta, you of all people should know the world doesn’t work like that.” Your eyes went back to your book.

“I wish we would have lived at the same time.” Yuta’s voice suddenly became softer.

You looked up to meet Yuta’s eyes- they could be so intense sometimes. Words were suddenly lost on you, your lips parted but nothing escaped. You were suddenly aware of the proximity of his face to yours. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then tracing your jaw with his finger until he reached your chin. You felt goosebumps erupt on your arms, the cool air suddenly making you shiver.

Yuta noticed and pulled his hand away. “Sorry.” he breathed. “I forget how cold I am.” He said sadly, his eyes downcast.

You gently brought you hands up to his face, causing him to meet your eyes. He looked surprised.

“Me too.” you said quietly. “Maybe in another life, I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you for a husband.” You smiled.

Yuta’s face lit up with a huge grin that reached his eyes. He laughed breathily.

“I suppose this would be a good time to tell you I have loved you since you were small.” He brought a hand up to hold yours against his face. “But I’ve been in love with you since you’ve grown up into the beautiful person you are now.”

There was a moment of pause as you stared in the galaxies that seemed to be swirling in his eyes. All you could hear was your breathing growing shallower and your blood rushing in your ears. He was perfect.

Now or never.

You leaned in slowly, as if being magnetically pulled. Your lips hovered over his; he stayed still. Both of your eyes were half-mast as you stared at each other’s lips.

He pulled away.

You deflated. Yuta kept his gaze down. “I can’t.” He said in a thin voice. “And why not?” you retorted. He met your eyes with his glassy ones. “If I am going to kiss you- of which I want nothing more- I want to be able to feel you, and you me. You deserve that.”

“I don’t care Yuta. You have already given me what I know I will never have in this life.” You breathed, feeling tears begin to prick your eyes. “I love you.”

Yuta blanched at your words. He had gone too far, let his own selfish desires to be with you again get in the way. If you really wanted to be with him, what was the cost? He could never give you what you wanted from him. “You deserve someone who can give you a real life, a human one.”

You stood up abruptly with your back to him. The tears that had been gathering in your eyes spilled over, suddenly it was hard to breathe. Why was he doing this? You spun around to face him. “Then why?” you said with a shaky voice. “Why did do all of this? If you knew all along that you loved me why would you wait until the moment I realized that I loved you too to break my heart?!” Your voice began to rise as you spoke.

Yuta looked at you with a helpless look on his face. “I’m sorry.” was all he could choke out before his head fell into his hands and he began to sob. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at his any longer before rushing out of the room.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ • ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

You hadn’t seen Yuta in weeks. You barely spoke, your appetite was all but gone, and you cried nearly every night. You had forgotten how lonely it all was before him. You had become completely apathetic to your situation, allowing the your betrothal to become official. The wedding was in a week, and you were dragged to countless meetings with your dress designer, dance lessons, and wedding plans that your mother was far more excited about than you were. You spent any other time you had locked away in your room writing. At least in the world of your own creation, the heroine was able to have the life you wanted. She could have a career, travel the world, walk along the streets of big cities, and still have the love of a lifetime without having to sacrifice a single thing.

One day, you sat at your writing desk by the tall window, watching your tears fall to the paper below in soft patters. You looked up into the mirror, you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. You were frail and your skin had taken on a dull sallowness. You could feel yourself slipping, the constant despair causing your to fray at the seams. You closed you eyes for a moment before opening them to see a head of silvery hair standing behind you. His eyes were just as doe-like as ever- they looked at you with such sadness. With a sharp gasp you turned only to find nobody behind you. You looked back to the mirror to see only yourself reflected back at you. There was no way of knowing if you imagined it or if he was really there. It all became too much, and with a pained scream you shattered the mirror in front of you with your fists.

Where is he?

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ • ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

Despite the fussing of everyone around you and your mother’s scolding, your lacerated hands hardly concerned you. You sat in your nightgown still, in your usually chair by the window in the library. You fiddled with your bandages on your hands before one of the house attendants had come in.

“Miss Y/n?” he spoke softly.

You quickly snapped out of your trance, “Yes?”.

“A letter for you, miss.” He said as he handed you a small envelope with a seal.

You offered him a small smile, “Thank you.”

Your literature professor had told you to send off one of your stories to a publishing company in New York City. You eyed the wax seal on the envelope, and broke it.

𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒴/𝓃,

𝒲𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓅𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓃𝓋𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒴𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝓊𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓊𝓈 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝐻𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓇𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈,

𝐸𝓁𝒾𝓏𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓉𝒽 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝒾𝓃, 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝑒𝒻

Holy shit. You thought, quickly folding up the letter and going to your room to hide it in your desk drawer. This was surreal, never did you think you could actually get published- by one of the largest publishers in the country no less. Your wedding was in a week, what could you possibly do about it now? You slightly cursed yourself for being so resigned about your engagement. Until you remembered Yuta’s words:

“You don’t have to do it you know, I think you know that too. You could leave it all behind and be perfectly fine on your own.”

You turned to your bed to pull out a large suitcase, throwing it open before shoving every possession you could fit inside. Your life wasn’t here, especially now that Yuta had gone. You thought of your family- their disappointment. Your mother’s you could deal with, but when your mind crossed your father there was a slight tinge of guilt. You paused your movements for a moment. He understood you, and he always stood up for you when your mother would get particularly overbearing. Still, you knew he wouldn’t stop the engagement. You snapped out of your trance and continued to pack until were interrupted by a knock at your door.

You jumped at the sudden noise, suddenly aware you could be discovered. “Yes?” you called.

“Supper is ready Miss” someone said from the other side of the door. “Be right there!” you shouted.

Shit. You thought. You quickly shut your suitcase- which took a fair amount if effort due to how utterly stuffed it was. Shoving it under the bed, you fixed your slightly disheveled hair and left your room to meet your parents who were already sitting at the dining table.

“You look flushed, dear.” Your mother commented upon looking at your face. “Is everything alright?” She asked while sipping her wine.

“Yes, mother. It’s just rather chilly today.” You lied. You father just looked at you with a raised eyebrow before going back to pouring his own wine.

You were on edge the whole time, your leg constantly bouncing while mindlessly pushing food around your plate. You could barely stomach the idea of food due to house nervous you were. You were making your escape tonight, you thought. All you have to do is wait till dark. As soon as supper was over you quickly excused yourself and shoved your chair back before leaving the room without another word.

“She has barely said a word for weeks.” Your mother said lowly. “What on earth has gotten into her.”

“She wasn’t meant for this life.” You father mumbled. “She’s far too smart and stubborn.” You mother continued to watch the door where you had walked out. Her eyes narrowed before she finished her wine. “I blame you.” She said bitterly.

You rushed to the library to gather the few books you new you couldn’t live without. You dashed around the room, stacking them in your arms before you came to your usual spot by the window. You looked at the scattered books and your scrapped pieces of your writing. Your eyes stopped on a small drawing you had sketched while you and Yuta were spending one your usual days lazing around the library. He was facing you, his gaze turned out the window in front of him. Though you’re no artist and you could never do his angelic features justice, you could still very clearly remember the scene. You stuffed it in your pocket before heading back to your room to get the rest of your things together. For the first time in your life you had never felt so sure of something. Although you might never see Yuta again, he could never leave your memory- no amount of distance nor the passage of time could change that.

You bittersweetly smiled to yourself as you made your way down the hall to your room. You struggled to open the door with all the books in your arms and barely noticed someone sitting on the chair at your desk.

Your mother.

She was holding the letter.

All of the breath left your lungs, there was an icy feeling in the pit of your stomach. All of the hope you had deflated in a matter of seconds.

“After all I’ve done.” Your mother started, still staring at the letter. “You still are adamant on destroying our family.”

There was silence for a several moments. You had tolerated her snide remarks and constant distaste for everything that made you happy. You played along with her ideas for your entire life, and for what?

“No, mother.” you said in a low voice. “You are adamant on destroying me.”

Your mother quickly stood up and rushed over to you. “How could you be so selfish?!” She seethed, her face just inches from yours. “Do you honestly expect that you could survive in this world all on your own? Don’t you know that isn’t possible for us?!” She said in a mix of anger and tears.

“Just because you gave up on your dreams doesn’t mean you can get in the way of mine.” You said in a flat, low voice.

Your mother shook with rage and tears before she pushed past you and stopped with her hand on your door handle. “I will not have my family be a laughing stock just because you have silly delusions. You will stay in this room until the wedding if that’s what it takes.” She spat before slamming the door.

“NO!”  You heard the faint sound of a lock from the outside. You slammed on the wooden door with your fists in rage until it eventually turned into tears of frustration. You eventually slumped against the door, exhausted.

Hours passed and shadows stretched across your room as the sun sank into the earth. The only light coming from the small lamp in your room. Everything was numb, all your fight had left you. You leaned back against the cool wood of your door, still sat the same spot you slumped in. You let out a sigh before felt yourself falling backward. You yelped as the door opened behind you and you fell  out into the hallway.

“What the hell-“ you began before you looked up.

Yuta.

You stared for a few seconds in disbelief thinking it was just another one of your hallucinations. Yuta’s brows were knitted as he stared down at you.

“Well? Don’t just lie there, you don’t have much time.” He said. You looked at him quizzically before it dawned on you: he was helping you escape. Yuta seemed to notice your moment of clarity and offered his signature smile. You got yourself off the floor and looked him in the eyes. Tears pricked your eyes as you smiled at him. Without really thinking you threw your arms around him, and you were surprised to feel warmth rather than the coolness of his shifty figure. It didn’t quite feel like a typical hug, but more like being enveloped in warmth.

“I missed you.” Was all you could say. You both stayed there for a few moments before you felt his warmth pull away from you.

“I never left.” He said with a warm grin. “Now hurry up, lady. I don’t pick locks for just anybody.” He winked.

You grinned widely before running off to grab all of your things. It was probably just before dawn by the looks of it, Yuta lead you to a small doorway that you had never seen before. “This was how I sneaked out.” He told you. You huffed in amusement before grabbing a hold of the handle, it was old and probably hadn’t been opened in years. You had to use all of your strength to slide it open, it was slowly beginning to inch open before you heard a voice.

“Y/n.”

You jumped and fell backward before looking up to see your father with an unreadable expression on his face. Your heart was leaping out of your chest, you looked around and saw Yuta standing next to you with a panicked expression on his face. If you weren’t screwed before, you definitely were now. \

“Where do you think you’re going?” He said in a grave voice before walking over to you. He helped you off the floor, and you kept your eyes glued to them.

“Without this?” He continued. Your eyes snapped up to see him holding an envelope. You met this eyes with your brows knit together, utterly confused.

You took it from him and opened it. Inside it was a train ticket and some cash. Your mouth fell open before you looked back up at your father who was smiling fondly. He took your face in his hands and gingerly kissed your forehead before meeting your eyes with his glassy ones.

“Go.” He said with a wide, proud smile.

You kissed his cheek before telling him you loved him and that you would write when you got to New York before you scurried out the door. You came out the other side to see the garden just outside your favorite window by the library. You took a deep inhale of the crisp morning air and saw the sky begin to tinge with orange as the sun began to rise. You opened your eyes to see the window open and Yuta staring at you with a fond look on his face. Despite your joy, your heart deflated when you made the realization.

Yuta would probably never see him again. You ran over to him placing both your hands on the window sill as he leaned down on his elbows. “Come with me.” You said through the tears painting your cheeks. Yuta gave you a sad chuckle before he reached his hand out to your face. You leaned into the warmth and closed your eyes. “I can’t.” You voice broke. “Not without you.” You opened your eyes to meet his and scanned his features for a moment, desperately trying to engrain his beautiful face in your memory. The sunlight shone faintly through his slightly transparent figure, giving him an ethereal glow.

He was the first to break the silence. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll see you again soon.” You were confused. “How?” you asked.

He chuckled again. “I’ve waited a hundred years to meet you, what’s another few decades?” You smiled at his jest. Yuta brought his hands to your face, they felt almost real this time. “Go, I want you to live. Be the heroine in your stories. Go on adventures. Break hearts. Feel heartbreak. Laugh till you can’t breathe. Feel it all, the greatest joy and the deepest pain. Write your stories. Then, after you’re old and grey and it’s time for you to leave this world, you can tell me all about it.” You let out a shaky laugh between your sobs, never had you felt more pain and love at the same time. Yuta leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. This time, you swore you could feel the plushness of his lips and his fingertips grazing your jaw and neck. You felt his pull away and opened your eyes to meet his. They never failed to put you in a trance.

“I love you.” You said in a voice just above a whisper. You saw his pupils dilate as he heard your words.

“If you only knew how much I loved you.” He said with the most beautiful smile that lit up his eyes like stars.

“Now beat it, you have a train to catch.” He joked. You chuckled. You abruptly turned to leave to save yourself from further torture. You ran across the meadow to your horse. You strapped down your things and hoisted yourself up before taking one last look at the window. Yuta was still there, he gave you a small wave. “See you soon.” You whispered before spurring your horse forward into a brisk run.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ • ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

Snow fell softy outside your window, the city took on a unique charm during the winter. The lights glittered and the people bustled down below, never stopping for a heartbeat. You looked around your home that you had called your own for decades. There was a piece of you here that would never leave, given you had written some of the most bestselling novels in history within these walls. All of the fame had made for an extraordinary life, but even in the moments of utter chaos time would slow to a crawl when he would cross your mind.

Over the years you wondered if it was all your imagination and if you ever actually would see him again. You reached to the side of your bed and picked up a small compact you kept with you all the time. You opened it to find the drawing of Yuta you had made all those years ago, it was your only way to remember his face as the years went by. Then you looked over to the mirror in the other side and saw your face. You were no longer the youth you once were, you looked over the way time had wore over your face. You smiled, it was proof you had kept your promise to Yuta, or leaving it all behind would have been for nothing.

You closed the locket and held it to your chest as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep. It felt strange like, you were being enveloped in warmth, the noises around you starting to blur and echo, as if you were under water. You heard a voice whisper right before everything turned black.

You woke with a gasp. It felt as though you had slipped into a deep ocean and couldn’t stop yourself until all of the sudden you were brought back to the surface. The room your were in was flooded with sunlight and you squinted as your eyes adjusted. What soon came into focus was the library from your family home. Everything was the same, except it felt different. Lighter, dreamier, as if time didn’t really move here. Looking down at your hands, they were no longer veiny and wrinkled from time, but youthful again. You turned your head to the window, a boy sat there. A boy with silver hair. As if he knew you had spotted him, he turned his head to meet your eyes. He smiled as if he was expecting you.

Yuta.

He stood up as you ran to him and nearly knocked him over as you embraced. He  was real, you could feel his solid form as you buried your face in the hair that dusted his neck. He smelled exactly how you imagined and he was so, so warm. You felt the vibrations of his low laugh as you clung to him desperately. He pulled back to look at your face before he kissed you, gently brushing his thumb along your neck where his hold was. You were finally home.

You pulled away from each other before letting out a giggle. “I have so much to tell you.” You said. He smiled. Not a thing about him had changed.

“And I can’t wait to hear all of it.”  

[fanfictiondreamscape]

First Kisses (Haikyuu - pt. 4)

Title: First Kisses (Haikyuu - pt. 4)

Genre: do I have to say it? FLOOF, MY FRIENDS.

Pairing: Kuroo/Kenma/Taketora/Lev x Reader (separate) 

Notes: Okay, I have to say this. This one may be my overall favorite next to the Karasuno first years collection. I have no valid reason to say why, but I love Nekoma and Fukurodani. The Tokyo schools are the ones that are HUGE standouts and are so interesting to me, though there isn’t much other information than what’s provided in the wiki. 

Like, I love information and absorbing it and I’ve read through both so many times, it’s getting annoying. Can anyone help with gathering more information? 

Otherwise, I realize that my writing has taken a severe nosedive. At least to me. So, I apologize in advance if these kinda suck. (I’m also super sorry for this being so late! Tons of crap had been holding me from typing this up.) 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Masterlist

Kuroo Tetsurou

this teASE-

he’d definitely want someone very cute and small

possibly shy, but not necessarily

also someone willing to try new things

(though this isn’t what will essentially draw him to his s/o)

otherwise, i feel that the kiss would happen during a date

something like dinner and walk 

or a movie and dinner 

maybe even a trip to the amusement park

which is where  we begin

though the night was fun, it was coming to an end

kuroo would have been teasing, chatting with you and his friends, and enjoying the time that the group has spent

some people are starting to split off

you two aren’t in that group just yet

it isn’t until you pause for some ice cream that you two momentarily separate

you were in a group with bokuto, akaashi, hinata and tsukishima

and while tsukishima was trying not to snap hinata’s neck 

and bokuto was staying close to (hanging off of) akaashi

you and kuroo were eating your ice cream peacefully

(though kuroo was fighting the urge to jump in and join bokuto in his extravagance)

it wasn’t until someone accidentally hit you that you two had to split

your ice cream would have hit your face

(yes, you are that short. don’t @ me.) 

and gotten everywhere

like...

it’s up your nose and almost in your eyes

and it’s a total mess.

you don’t cry, but you are embarrassed

and while the passerby apologized, you also couldn’t help but silently curse them.

kuroo noticed your expressions

and how you got dejected when you got hit

so he took you by the shoulder and told the guys that you’d be back after a few minutes.

since it was an amusement park, there are no complete bathrooms

but there are waterbottles, napkins, and car mirrors.

so he had to improvise. 

he gave you what you needed and helped you as much as he could,

but your embarrassment was preventing you from leaving just yet.

you knew that you two were far from done for the night, seeing as it was only hitting 7:30 pm

but you also knew that you didn’t want to risk something like that happening again.

so when your face was cleaned, you laid back while kuroo held your hand.

he tried to leave, but he noticed your grip tighten.

no sound needed to be heard from you to confirm what both of you were thinking

‘i/they don’t want to go back just yet.’

the area was quiet as kuroo walked back and hugged you, one which you returned

short sighs was all that could be heard for a few minutes.

eventually, you were ready, and you let kuroo know by tugging on his tee.

he had made a vow for tonight, though - 

he knew you hadn’t had your first kiss, and he wanted to make it special to you

and he knew that you didn’t like huge displays of affection. 

so he just knew that this was the chance when you glanced up at him when you left the hug.

your eyes were big and, while your face was a little dull from the stickiness of the ice cream, 

(i hate the fact that i thought of something nasTY when i wrote that-)

he found that the way the setting sun lit your figure up was magical.

he knew that now was the perfect moment.

you noticed his hesitation 

and you began to question him

but he kissed you before you could get a word out.

kuroo is a driven and passionate man, so this was obviously reflected in his kiss

it subdued sense of force that he used and the shyness of yours was beautiful to him.

it wasn’t until he softened his end and you put more force into yours that you two got even closer.

though the height was hard to deal with, and resulted in some teeth clashing by default. 

you two were drawn into your own little world, and the kiss opened up a new door for the both of you. 

once you two were done after a few minutes, you pulled apart.

he had a teasing smirk on his face, you were blushing and pouting.

“did you have to just kiss me like that? people could’ve been watching!”

“hahaha, did you think i’d miss that chance, that oh-so perfect opportunity, chibi-chan?”

though you did continue to drop little periods of whining, you did calm down and relax for the remainder of the night.

the stars led to even more kisses that night

(of course, in private, kuroo may be the master of provocation, but he does know what his s/o is comfortable with.)

essentially, the overall kiss was very reassuring. 

not really anything for extreme comfort, but most definitely a kiss that would calm you down for the night. (seeing as you initiated the return.)

it was also fairly long and passionate 

something long enough to leave you decently breathless

(sidenote: it’s kuroo, what did you expect?) 

either way, it was the perfect setting, too 

(but kuroo wouldn’t admit that he knew the next step in the relationship would be perfect in the sunset)

Kenma Kozume

shy gamer boy needs someone outgoing yet calm and collected.

i’m throwing the beck reference in here again. 

yep, beck from victorious. that kind of vibe.

it has been proven that he’s only quiet when you first meet him, and is chatty when you know him

so he’d want to be able to have a conversation with his s/o that revolves around their similar interests

a gamer, preferably

and since shy bean is shy bean, the kiss would be at one of your houses

most likely over a game

probably a racing game and the finishing game scores are neck and neck

and the kiss itself? 

well, let’s begin. 

you two had been playing mario cart for a while now.

the two of you had evened scores.

(2-2; best out of five)

and, despite his somewhat calm demeanor,

kenma was internally screaming.

‘s/o’s ahead of me, and the shell didn’t work.’ 

he didn’t want to play dirty, but you were winning.

he wanted to win the game to get the upperhand over you 

but you had only continued to play at your best.

he found your drive adorable and intriguing, 

but (i’m gonna say it again) he wanted to win.

so, he had to start planning how to defeat you in game.

though he did know that this would be up to chance. 

in the midst of his thinking, he barely noticed how it shifted to the way you looked. 

your face was lit up by the artificial light,

and as cliche as it sounds, he found that glorious.

the look in your eyes as your chosen character flew by on the track made him blush.

and that was when it hit him,

if he can’t win, he’d take you down with him.

and he’d do that with a kiss.

(let’s be honest, kenma would do something desperate if he wanted to. even if it was extremely out of character.)

(though that might just be me trying to fit the storyline, but like- he wouldn’t date someone unless he knew that he could trust them.) 

(am i wrong?)

he’d said your name under his breath. 

while you two would normally be very much willing to talk, this was not one of the times.

so you were a little worried. 

you knew that he was very ‘eh’ about his emotions, but he had his own little ways of communicating them, and this was new. 

what happened when you turned your head to look at him though-

that wasn’t worrying in the slightest.

kenma, in a somewhat uncharacteristic action had kissed you.

it was short, and mischevious, a little messy as well

but it was enough to distract you

i mean, like- 

QUIET AND CLOSED OFF KENMA KOZUME JUST KISSED YOU.

this boy had never really taken the first step to do these things, at all, so this? 

hooo boy, you were shocked. 

so shocked that you failed to see that you had fallen to last place while kenma had won in first. 

your jaw dropped to the floor when you saw it and you pouted.

you did notice that kenma was red-faced and looking away from you, though

so you did the same thing. 

short, sweet, mischevious.

you just returned the favor~.

so, in conclusion?

the kiss is shy and quiet, but has some supercharged air to it

i mean, i imagined it happening in the midst of a final game.

what was to be expected.

(i also hc kenma to be the type of person to tease his s/o relentlessly in private, so-) 

the whole scenario was just the perfect combination of innocent desires, a confidence boost, and a drive to win. 

the setting too.

super relaxing to the both of you

especially considering that the two of you are not the most open with your relationship.

oddly adorable, but just the slightest bit annoying. 

Yamamoto Taketora

this man, not gonna lie, is gonna give me a bit of a problem

i also had to do a small observation of his character, so.

once i found out that yamamoto is timid around girls, his s/o?

the girl i imagine he would go for clocked me square in the face. 

someone with a not-so-talkative nature, but is CONFIDENT.

seems to have the default personality of an angel, but isn’t afraid to tear someone a few new ones if provoked enough. 

otherwise, i think that the kiss would happen on a weekend or over holiday.

like-

this is hard to explain, so i’ll just get into general scenario.

so.

his parents are away for the weekend, he isn’t trusted to babysit, and his sister can’t be left alone or with her brother or else chaos will run free for the few days. 

the solution?

his parents ask you to stay with the two of them to keep them in check and taken care of. 

so you, in love with taketora and his sister’s personality, agree to their plea. 

(taketora would be the first of the two to make their opinion on your stay obvious - what else would he be besides ecstatic?)

otherwise, everything is prepared and the weekend picks up.

his parents are now gone, you are now at their humble abode, and akane has just pulled out a just dance game. 

she had been pestering you two to play it with her.

while taketora denied, you agreed and akane had taken to picking a song while you started to move the table in the middle of the living room.

he was watching as you started the time with a bang.

as you three did more stuff and the weekend progressed, he only fell more in love with you.

you fell more in love with him as well. 

though neither of you would admit it. 

now, seeing as the final day has come to pass, things were starting to wind down. 

you, akane, and taketora were seated next to each other on the couch.

a movie was playing and the two yamamotos were digging into the popcorn that had been set out on the coffee table. 

they had their eyes dead set on the current events in the movie, but you?

you were watching taketora and akane.

he looked so happy, she looked so happy. 

one little makeshift family for the three of you. 

you had smiled and looked away.

what you didn’t know was that taketora could feel you looking at him, he could even see your content expression from his peripheral vision.

he was happy to be able to experience something like this with you.

you were so charming, so kind, so smart, and so good with kids 

(something i will never be lol)

what more could he ask for? you were perfect for him. 

sadly, things had to come to an end at some point. 

that point was when akane was passed out, the credits were rolling, and a car had pulled into the driveway.

you two, awake and ready to start cleaning, had allowed the disappointment to set in.

“i had fun with you guys.” 

he smiled, though it was a little shy. 

he was watching as you grabbed the remote and shut the television off. 

he was blushing. you noticed. it was cute.

the room became silent, and it wasn’t broken until the sound of jingling keys could be heard. 

you two had slapped on smiles as his parents entered. 

after a short conversation, his dad lifted akane up and took her to her room while his mom thanked and paid you. 

you went to leave, she offered to drive you home, but you persisted on walking. 

taketora took it upon himself to make sure you got home safely. 

the moon was high and bright, seemingly smiling.

you loved the calm silence, he loved looking at your gentle expression.

the light had made you glow, and the way your eyes sparkled pushed him over the edge. 

he had to kiss you now. he just had to. 

you failed to notice how he was blubbering silently, something akin to a fish.

he had to pull himself together if he ever dreamed of kissing you, so he had to do it now. 

“hey, s/o...”

you turned to face the two-tone haired boy, and he grabbed your wrist gently. 

you blushed at the action. but gestured for him to continue.

“can i...kiss you?”

your blush got even brighter, but you nodded your head. 

he slowly closed the ever so slight gap between the two of you. 

and he kissed you.

slowly, gently, kindly - it was truly loving. 

it was very long, though. 

in fact, it was getting so long that the smile he wore when the kiss continued dropped into a pout when you had to press his chest as a cue for him to stop.

you giggled at his expression, and it didn’t last due to that reaction.

the calm silence returned, and as you two continued to your home, he held your hand. 

(that was almost so sweet that it became disgusting, wtf-) 

but, overall-

super sweet, super long, super loving.

there’s is almost no other way to explain the feeling

if you want to count breathless, go ahead.

either way, it was perfect and just the right amount of intense for the both of you

(or a balance, rather, but i think you get what i mean in relation to him and hsi s/o’s character).

and again, the setting?

too perfect. 

the stars aligned in his favor that night, that’s for sure. 

(i almost gagged while writing this, why did i have to make it so sickeningly sweet, my god-)

Lev Haiba

tol oblivious bean needs smol aware bean

i don’t make the rules, it needs to happen.

who the hell else is gonna make sure that this guy doesn’t bring more problems onto himself?

his s/o would have to be responsible and somewhat motherly.

tough love is best love for tol boy. 

i think that they would also be very into volleyball, even pushing as a manager for the team.

(you and kuroo would have to be the primary sources of improvement for lev, let’s be honest)

otherwise, the kiss would happen after a practice. 

and it would be a milestone for the team.

(by default, of course.)

so, what exactly do i imagine would happen?

wellll...

practice had just ended

everyone was sweaty

a select group of people had to clean up the gym while the other half had to make sure that the locker rooms were in pristine condition.

you had stayed back to help the guys in the gym.

chaos had begun to ensue when you were cleaning around the outer edge of the gymnasium, so you had to do something.

granted, this group consisted of yamamoto and lev - not surprising.

despite your smaller stature, the guys there knew not to mess with you

things worked out! 

the cleaning was slowly getting done, people had begun to leave. 

(some volleyballs were thrown in the process between you and lev, though kuroo doesn’t and will never know.)

the smiles that come up during the time are beautiful

almost like that night in general, but you didn’t care.

you, in fact, found lev adorable.

despite his height, was a giant baby - and you loved it.

either way, when the cleaning was done, only a few of you were left.

kuroo and kenma left for the train, kai was packing his things, and you and lev were already on your way to your respective homes.

you two were holding hands tightly, you giggling as he swung your limbs back and forth.

he was almost throwing you, but he wasn’t

the whole thing was a big, fun mess 

once he had calmed down, he had started to ask you about your day

you responded accordingly, and he had to do what he would normally do

tease you.

things were silent once you had asked him and he responded, so this would have to be done if things had to flow somewhat

the tiredness had set in, and it wasn’t until you had heard the dreaded words escape his mouth that you almost jumped and smacked him

“so, s/o, how’s your height doing for you down there? Are the land bugs hitting you?” 

you deadpanned and started to claw at him, just the slightest.

his laugh was what drew you from your mini meltdown. 

you calmed down as you watched his eyes light up with amusement.

he seemed so relaxed and happy, you just had to smile at him as well. 

the air around you two lost the tired feeling and settled into something bordering on romantic and teasing.

you were throwing tall jokes at him, he was throwing short jokes at you.

fair deal for a couple so far apart in height, i’d say.

that being said, the tired eventually set in amongst the conversation and rebuttals. 

with the drowsiness hitting you in the middle of a comeback, you got loopy 

and said something without thinking

(aka something unlike you, the somewhat composed manager of the Nekoma boys volleyball club and unofficial guardian of the chaotic lev haiba)

“i wanna kiss you.”

lev, though tired as well, wasn’t as drained as you and heard what you had said loud and clear.

he blushed firetruck red and stuttered through the repetition of the statement.

it took you a few seconds to realize that, to summarize:

yes, you said that

yes, lev heard that

and yes, you meant it

you had gathered the remnants of your awake conscious to say what you had to say, now that you had already spoken your desires in a goofed state.

“*clearing throat* u-um, i...i want to kiss you, l-...lev. i want to kiss you, so can-can i?”

his eyes got wider, he blushed darker, and his heart was beating at a million mph

but he didn’t deny it. 

in fact, he straight up leaned down for you.

“you wanted to kiss me, right? then go for it!”

you, in your tired stupor, went along with it.

you had to jump a little bit because he didn’t lean down so far, but you still managed to peck him on the lips.

(he enjoyed the image of you jumping to try and kiss him, and he could get used to it)

he chuckled again before meeting you down below once you were away from him. 

the two of you just stared in each others eyes and turned into tomatoes.

overall, just-

AGH SO CUTE.

it doesn’t seem like much, but i think that the kiss would kind of comical and somewhat immature

while still remaining very romantic and sweet.

the setting itself?

not really proper to you two

the two of you, most likely, would have ended up like this if you had stayed back longer or had gone to a diner for a date.

(as a sidenote, you lived near yaku. this is something he didn’t know and you were too tired to remember, so when yaku noticed the little scene from his bedroom window, he had to bring it up at practice the next day. the two of you were promptly teased relentlessly.)

[bidaubadeadieu]

Ten Favorite Fictional Characters

I was tagged by @skullhaver​ who chose some rlly choice people. We love so many of the same characters, for so many of the same reasons, but for the sake of fun, I’ll try to pick ones that don’t overlap theirs, or pick some characters off of the beaten path. I find this prompt a little tricky because I tend to fall in love more with worlds than characters. Sunless Skies and Dark Souls jump out to me as worlds that I really like but with no characters that I was really able to latch onto.

1. Rose Quartz, Steven Universe I love Rose Quartz’s selfishness. She spends the whole show kind of oblivious to the way she’s hurting people, although I think she is good of heart and intention. I think her deep empathy for other people manifests as this weird projection where by getting what she wants she genuinely thinks she’s helping others, and has no understanding that other people may not benefit from this. I like the way the narrative slowly reveals more about her, and it was a really exciting mystery to uncover, and to go, like Steven, from kind of revering her, to kind of resenting her, to kind of finding a middle path and acknowledging her complexity. Honorable mention goes to Stevonnie, also from Steven Universe, who is some great nonbinary rep.

2. Satine, Moulin Rouge! When I was in high school, I might have put Satine’s love interest, Christian, on this list, but thanks to gender discovery, I have been able to radically shift the way that I interpret romantic pursuit and seduction. I don’t think this was the intention of the writers, but I think there is ambiguity to be had in Satine’s character. Christian is charming, and the duke is rapey and awful, so I think the audience is supposed to feel that it’s obvious that she will fall for Christian, and of course her appeals to the Duke are only for show, but yet the only thing we know about Satine’s past is she has had a lifelong struggle for security, and I think the choice she is making is a real one. In my read of her character, Satine is like, actually so distant from her own emotional needs that she is not ready to fall in love, and I think she could find Christian’s in-touchness with his aesthetic ideals perturbing and alienating.

3. Karin, Naruto: Shippuden I have to love Karin because no one else will. She is not a good character; the writers make her fawn over Sasuke like 5 years after they should have realized that trope was dumb and juvenile, they gave her a shitty biting-linked power purely to titillate the audience as fanservice, and she gets treated like a punching bag. She’s like literally Naruto’s fucking cousin and they’ve never talked in canon. She represents every missed opportunity that show ever had, and is a perfect example of the way that misogyny hurts worldbuilding. In the New Era, she is kind and gentle with Sarada. Gay aunt vibes. Honorable mention goes to Orochimaru (Boruto only, when he’s in dad-mode) as questionable nonbinary rep, and honorable mentions go to to the rest of the Akatsuki for being absolute freaks, great villain writing, and finally honorable mention goes to Rock Lee for inspiring in me a certain kind of motivation and drive when I need it.

4. Iroh, Avatar: the Last Airbender Legit what is there not to love about this guy? His comic relief holds up after a decade, his wise and compassionate guidance helped foster one of the greatest redemption arcs of all time, and his physical prowess makes from some extremely well-choreographed fights. He really has the range.

5. Clare, The Nightingale (2019) This movie is far more violent than I usually enjoy, but there’s something about Clare’s descent into madness that was done really well. So many people talk these days about “feral women” but like, Clare, she’s feral, in the worst and ugliest ways. Her vengeance is completely justified, and its a rare story that while watching it I find myself thinking “yeah. i want her to commit murder. she deserves it :)” This is Rosemary’s Baby if Rosemary was a Tasmanian tiger.

6. April May, An Absolutely Remarkable Thing (2018) I bet you didn’t know this, but I like shitty, selfish women with hubris. I think they’re good characters. At least April, by virtue of being a protagonist, gets a serious growth arc the the second book, which none of the other characters above are afforded because their writers didn’t take them serious enough.

7. The Biologist, Annihilation (2014) Hey, I bet you didn’t know this, but I resonate with cold women making difficult decisions in survival situations. She is savvy and mostly self-aware, but still struggles with being out of her depth, and I resonate with the the way she is somewhat alienated from her past and her regrets.

8. Zaroff, The Most Dangerous Game (1924) It’s silly, and oversincere, and tropey, but I love the vintage horror of a lawful evil guy who hunts humans for sport. I like his weird period-appropriate racism. I like his faux-sophistication and worldliness. I find him oddly realistic. See also: my love for the Akatsuki, mentioned above.

9. Konata, Lucky Star I haven’t watched this show in over a decade, and I don’t want to, I am positive that it won’t hold up and it’ll be major cringe, but the fact of the matter is that Konata’s personality of gamer grrl, small-titty (because it’s fkn anime so that’s a personality I guess) innuendo-ridden persona despite deep naivete, it all left an indelible impact on my psyche. For better or for worse.

10. Viren, The Dragon Prince We love a power-hungry villain who is like, low-key a freak! We love somebody who sacrifices their humanity to get what they want! I love the way that Viren lies to his son, I love the way he and King Harrow were definitely gay for one another, I love the way that he takes advice from a magic caterpillar that lives in his hear. Honorable mention for Aunt Amaya, who is just wonderful, and we love the lady knight tropes she’s bringing

I will tag: @kit-kaboodle @theclockistickingwrite @fairy-creed @wymanthewalrus @soldier-author-batman @colcoction and you know, anybody else who wants in on the fun

[glittercndgcld]

( 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑗𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠 )

    📲 text messages | @xboutlxstnightmuses

peter Hey. Super random hearing from me, I know. That Imagine Dragons song came up on shuffle and it reminded me of you. It's been a while since we talked now, so I guess I'm just wondering how you're doing?

james hello :slight_smile: yeah, it is kinda? But it's okay-it has been a long time since we talked. that's really sweet of you. I'm doing well, I think? Work is the same, so busy... still struggling with finding free time :stuck_out_tongue: but yeah... how have you been?

peter It has been. I wasn't sure if I should text or not. I think I sat here debating it throughout the entire song before I sent it. That's good. I hope you are. Ah, work. Don't you just love having to be a responsible adult? Aren't we all :stuck_out_tongue_closed_eyes: It's tough sometimes. Other times, I feel like I have too much free time that I spend doing absolutely nothing... except maybe reading... somethings never change. I've been okay! Just going through the motions and all that. You know how it goes.

james still that is a very sweet gesture. sometimes, I  look at the GoT books and think of you :stuck_out_tongue: which by the way, with how the finale went, I am not even sure I'm gonna get the other ones adulting is awesome :rofl::rofl::rofl: #not well what have you been reading? I understand...I even remember all that, come to think of it:yum:

peter Hahah, I'm not even a little upset about that. Ugh, but you know the books are so much better! They always are. I don't hate it, it has it's perks, but it's kinda sorta exhausting sometimes? So much responsibility and it's never ending. Currently, I'm reading The Malazan Empire series - it's interesting. There's quite a few books in the series.

james cannot read Martin's books. Willing to try agian but NOOOOPE some adaptations could be better than the books though? i guess we have to live through it oh.my.god how many books are there in the series? and in which book are you?

peter THEY ARE SO GOOD THOUGH No. Not ever. The internal dialogue's really give you a view into the characters minds that movies and shows just don't capture. Yep. Guess so. That seems to be the theme of life. Living through it all. I think there's 11. I'm on book 6.

james can't argue about that. it's true but he is taking his sweet time to write the last two. So I do not trust that man oh my ....how long did it take you to finish those six? what is it about?

peter It is! Books just hit different. Perfection doesn’t happen over night, James. It takes time, sometimes. Uh, I’ve been on this serious the past 3 or so months - that’s in between work and books I read for my book club. It’s more adventure and fantasy - god, there’s so much, to be honest. It’s about a period of turmoil in the Malayan empire and other nations in that world. There’s a ton of characters, but the development is nicely done. You’d think it’d be hard to keep up, but in the way it’s written, it’s not. I feel like I’d have to tell you in person. Or else it’d be so much to read.

james I can’t believe you are still siding with George R.R Martin :zany_face::zany_face::zany_face: is it wrong that I still have a mental picture of reading books frantically? aw still on the book club? it does sound interesting:blush:  it is eleven books, of course I would think it is hard to keep up.

peter I will always side with George R. R Martin :stuck_out_tongue_closed_eyes: Of me reading books frantically? Or yourself? I won’t ever not be in a book club. That’s how you get introduced to a variety of authors over many different genres. I love it. Right! It’s really awesome! You might like it! You just read one right after the other. That’s all.

james of you reading books frantically I'm still me; nagging that I'm not reading enough. Still....two years later:sweat_smile: Got really into audio books though That's true -I don't know how you jungle work and reading-so effortlessly. Jealous... I'm going to search it out-maaaaybe I'm going to get the first one? Just to try it out

peter Ok, I thought so, but wanted to clarify. You know better than almost anyone how lost I can get in books :grimacing: I don't know if it's a good thing, or bad. You should read more! Books are great... I guess some things never change, huh? :joy: That's something!! I did that for a little bit, but I missed physically holding the books in my hand. And oddly, the smell of books. Nothing like it. I don't know how I do either. It seems like a natural talent. I've been doing it since I could read. You should! You could borrow mine, even. To see if you like it, that way you don't spend money on a book you might not like.

james Everything is good if you're having fun! And when you don't overdo it:stuck_out_tongue_closed_eyes: I do, but then again; I'm always on the internet searching some random information I come across in a tv show or movie. And yep, audio books just work for me. I have so many things to do, so listening to them while working around, makes me believe that I have some kind of progress? Besides, I'm currently searching for a master's degree and I'm still reading (reading and studying aren't the same, but they are to me :P) and I am kind of consumed with it smell of books :smiling_face_with_3_hearts: Is it just me or it's just the second time you asked me to hang out with you?

peter I feel like some people might feel like i overdo it? :thinking: but I do have fun. I love reading. Audio books are convenient, for sure. That is progress! You're still taking in those stories and enjoying them That's fun. I need to get my butt back to school. They are the same thing! I love studying - researching things... but you know this about me already. Mhm. I love it. It's my favorite smell. Well... I guess I hadn't realized I did that. But do you want to hang out?

james You do your thing-don't listen to anyone :relaxed: Oh are you interested in studying something else? Smooth, Peter, smooth I'd like that, actually.

peter You know that I don't. If I did, I'd be on a much different path than I am right now. I don't know. I kind of want to a few classes in business... maybe go for my associates. Owning a book store would be pretty awesome. I really didn't realize!! I was just... talking. Or well, typing? texting??? Okay! I can take that book. For you to read. You'll have to let me know what you think.

james True dat Woooaah that sounds awesome :slight_smile: OH really? I'm going to pretend I believe you here That sounds like a plan sure

peter Doesn't it?? I mean, tell me you can't see me doing something like that. It's just one of those things that I never felt would actually be in the cards for me. Yes! Really. Okay. Dinner, maybe?

james Definitely it is something that I can see you doing.  For sure hmm maybe....okay.

peter Maybe one day. Maybe okay or just okay?

james Fiiiiine. YES okay. I have been contemplating whether or not I should, but who am I kidding? I have missed you, anyway

peter :joy: Good! I was hoping you'd say yes. I've missed you, too. It's been a long time. So hm, when are you free? Preferrably, a Friday or Saturday?

james good :) hmm maybe Friday?

peter Friday is perfect. How does 7:30pm sound?

james Great - i can't wait :blush:

peter Perfect. I can’t either! It’ll be great to see you.

james Same :wink:

[falcongumba]

Lesley Mok

Photo by Luke Marantz 

Lesley Mok is an immensely creative drummer, percussionist and composer who works in a wide variety of collaborative ensembles as well as writing music for her own projects. She is also part of Polyfold Musical Arts Collective, a really wonderful group of musicians who have been curating a concert series for musicians to present new works of music as well as running a small record label that already has a sizable catalog.

I’ve only known Lesley for a couple of years, but we have played together a few times in informal sessions and I always admired her original drumming and her strong voice as a composer.

In this discussion we talked about her entire trajectory as a musician as well as some of her upcoming projects and plans.

JT: You’ve told me before that you are originally from the Bay Area but I’m a bit curious about your family’s background. Where are your parents from? What did they do?

LM: Neither of my parents are creative professionals, though I'd consider both of them creative people. I'm a first-generation American, and like many immigrants at the time, both of them had an intense desire to climb the social ladder and make it for themselves in the United States. I think uprooting one's life and moving to an unfamiliar place takes a different kind of creativity--figuring out which bus to take, what to eat, how to communicate...they're cultural challenges that require creative thinking.

JT: And, were they the first ones to steer you into getting music lessons? Or was that something that you wanted on your own?

LM: My mom forced me to take piano lessons, but drum lessons were something I asked for.

JT: Before we get onto the drums. I read on your bio that you also played the flute, correct?

LM: Yes! In my elementary and middle school concert bands.

JT: I imagine studying flute and piano was likely helpful, no? You write a lot of music now.

LM: Definitely - it gave me a  good sense of tonal harmony, or at least what it sounded like and how it might move. It wasn't until recently that I started writing music,  but taking lessons at a young age gave me a lot to work from. It's like learning a language at a young age..you can't really forget it.

JT: That’s amazing! So how did you arrive at the drums originally?

LM: I don't really remember, to be honest, but I took lessons for a few years before joining the middle school jazz band. I would invite friends over to work on songs we learned in school. I was terrified of soloing and I remember wanting to work on trading 4’s so I wouldn’t embarrass myself during rehearsal.

JT: And was it already pretty geared toward a jazz thing? Or were you playing other kinds of music?

LM: I was drawn to jazz from the beginning - it always felt like the music I wanted to play. I wanted to be in a backing band for a singer - my favorite records were with Ella, Billie Holiday, and Nancy Wilson.

JT: What kind of form did that listening take?

LM: One of the first drummers I met, Scott Lowrie, introduced me to a bunch of records like Sonny Rollins Quartet, Sarah Vaughan with Basie, Miles Davis’ First Quintet...He would point out certain things that captured him, like how swinging Philly Joe’s ride cymbal was, or the vibrato in Sarah’s voice, or how relaxed Paul Chamber’s beat was. He would sing along to the drum solos and try to figure out what sticking Philly Joe would more likely play. He introduced to me a listening culture that made me more interested in the music.

JT: What was the transition to Berklee like?

LM: I had started to meet a bunch of other high school musicians in my junior year of high school through programs like the Stanford Jazz Workshop. Everyone could really play, and it inspired me to know that people my age were already so committed to music. I remember Cory Cox and Caili O’Doherty were mentors at the program at the time, and just hearing them play encouraged me to apply to music school.

JT: That’s cool because that's kind of a common thread for a lot of people that I know from the Bay Area. There were all these music camps, and a lot of people went and even if a lot of them didn't end up playing music professionally, they still would end up playing an instrument pretty well and having a really strong appreciation for music.

LM: Yeah, I studied with Akira Tana at the time and I remember he even recommended that I not go to music school; he was like “you should check out these other things”.

I think a lot of my hesitation about going to music school didn't have to do with music itself but how to make a living in music. At that time, coming from a more traditionally minded family, music wasn’t a legitimate practice or career. It wasn’t until college when I built up more confidence and commitment to music.

JT: I remember you telling me that you had a pretty good experience at Berklee.

LM: The first two years at Berklee were a little unstructured and I was sort of confused about how to move forward. I felt lucky to play in a few ensembles that I really enjoyed, including Jason Palmer’s ensemble (my first foray into odd meters and original music) and Ralph Peterson’s Art Blakey ensemble, but I didn’t have high enough ratings to get into some other ensembles. (Those of you who are familiar with Berklee’s rating system can maybe empathize!). I felt a bit discouraged with navigating what felt like a bureaucratic system.

In my third year, I applied to this program called the Berklee Global Jazz Institute, led by Danilo Perez and Marco Pignataro. I didn't get in my first time around, but then I think it was in my sixth semester or something I auditioned again and got in. That program was really significant for me.

Global gave me some clarity in my practice and I was able to prioritize my learning. It was also during this time when I started to think about bigger questions, not just how to play the drums and music, but you know...how to play music in a culturally and socially informed way.

JT: And what were some of the breakthroughs? Was there a teacher that was particularly empowering? Or was it just the benefit of being in the program?

LM: The program itself was very empowering, but Danilo, Terri Lynne Carrington and Ben Street were the three teachers that really influenced me. Bob Gullotti was also enormously influential as a teacher. We would work on playing Bird heads around the drums. He was so thorough with the way he thought about dynamics, articulation, and tambor, and if he didn’t feel like you played the essence of the melody, he would ask you to work on the same thing for the following week. I hadn’t thought much about drumming outside of a rhythmic and linguistic context up until that point so those lessons were super transformative. Bob would play every Monday night at the Fringe--I remember hearing him take a solo on sticks on a ballad at like 40bpm, and being like, “Holy shit, I want to be able to do that.” Bob passed away just last year--he was a completely dedicated teacher and I will always treasure our time together.

JT: When did you move to NY?

LM: I moved in September of 2017.

JT: Okay. And did you move because you felt that New York was a center for this music? Or was there another reason?

LM: There was never much doubt in my mind about moving to New York after school. I travelled between Boston and New York pretty often while I was in school to take lessons or see shows, so after I finished my final year at Berklee I moved here.

JT: There's usually all these logistical and life challenges moving here the first year. How did that affect you? Were you able to get to music right away? Or was there an adjustment period?

LM: It was a tremendous life change. I applied for a bunch of jobs the first week I moved here, and ended up working at a small entertainment law firm for about four months..that's how long I lasted! (Haha) It was super gruesome and I was pretty miserable. I was in the office for nine hours a day, and would head to my studio every day at 6pm and practice until 10pm or so. I would plan sessions on weekends or weeknights after work. Oddly enough, I think I practiced the most when I had that job just because I knew I had to structure my time really well.

It was an emotionally tough time, but it really made me question what was important to me. I think I was scared of what it meant to be a working musician but after working at the law firm, I knew it wasn't something I could do--my body and mind just rejected it. After I quit my job I felt like I had control over my own time and free will, and it was then that I really started pursuing music more fearlessly.

JT: Yeah, I feel like there’s a huge character building that happens in that first year and then the following years almost get easier by contrast or something.

LM: I’m definitely less stressed out than I was that first year. There are always challenges and self-doubt, but I feel like I can return to familiar rooms in my mind and trust that I’ll overcome the moment.

That said, I still worry all the time if my music’s any good, if anyone resonates with it, and if other people like playing with me, etc. (Haha)

JT: And in those first couple of years were you already able to find some people to play with or did it take some time?

LM: I was playing with a lot of really great musicians, but the more I questioned my own artistic values, the more I was able to also find a community of people I resonated with emotionally and artistically. I also moved to Bushwick in November 2018 and started playing with people with completely different value systems. To be honest, I couldn’t relate at first. I heard Weasel Walter for the first time and remember thinking how weird and overwhelmed and intrigued I felt. There’s a record he’s on with Mary Halvorson and Peter Evans, and there are long stretches of time where he doesn’t play anything I can identify as a sound from the drum set. Hearing him along with other musicians like Brandon Lopez and Matteo Liberatore made me think consciously about all the musical choices I can make in any given moment. My first year living in Bushwick felt like everything I had known and felt about music was flipped upside down. I had to learn to engage with creative music beyond the ride cymbal being the main timbral focus...beyond jazz.

JT: I remember you telling me that you didn't start writing your own compositions right away.

LM: Yeah, I didn't really start writing until the end of 2018 with my band The Living Collection. It's funny to think that my first foray into writing was for a large chamber-like ensemble because I feel like I still have huge gaps in my knowledge of harmony and traditional compositional methods.

But it's something that also I think freed me from thinking I had to do a certain thing or compose in a certain way. I learned so much through trial and error...I'd have the flute in one octave and then have bass clarinet in another octave only to realize that the flute was barely audible. I had random mistakes in my chart, or very inconvenient ways of writing things, or literally impossible parts to play, so it was really trial by fire. But I think I learned through having a supportive group of friends for a band who would share their thoughts with me, and criticisms as well.

JT: I think I listened to everything there is currently available from that band. The music is really beautiful. I was wondering what is your concept for the music of the group?

LM: I think it's changed a lot. Some of the first compositions we played had many independent, moving parts. I was drawing a lot of inspiration from Henry Threadgill at that time. I was writing entirely notated music at one point, after listening to more contemporary classical composers like [Helmut] Lachenmann. Recently I’ve been thinking more about the idea of musical democracy and non-hierarchical ways of playing, improvisation being a vehicle for these social-cultural processes involved: spirituality, community-as-oneness, and communal joy. I hope to establish a context in which everyone can participate in music as a necessary ritualistic function.

JT: That brings me to the work that you've been doing with Polyfold Musical Arts Collective. How did it come about and how did you all start fleshing out these ideas?

LM: Well, I'm the newest member of Polyfold. The collective originally started in Detroit and consisted of 20-something musicians. It took on a new shape when a few of its members moved to Brooklyn in 2017, so the current membership includes myself, Yuma Uesaka, Alex Levine, and Ben Rolston. The idea is basically to expand opportunities for improvisers to create original music. That usually takes the form of a monthly concert series, something we call Polyfold Presents, but we’ve also put together these “Sunday Salons,” informal workshops where people can bring their music or share ideas they’re exploring. The idea comes from something Geri Allen used to do with her students. We recently have been working on our record label...your record was actually the first we put out in awhile! So thank you for all your work on that.

*Lesley adds: (Juanma’s band was originally scheduled to perform at the April concert series, but when COVID hit, we commissioned him along with the other artists that we scheduled to perform, to perform a creative work of any kind. He ended up recording four full-length compositions remotely with his band. It was so well recorded and the process was so representative of the moment that we decided to put it out on the label. Check it out - ‘Folklore’ by Juanma Trujillo.)

JT: How, would you describe the role that you have in the collective?

LM: It's hard to say, the structure and the nature of the organization has changed over time, our roles kind of shift as we go. I just worked on writing the last grant. Trying to put into words what exactly is it we do and making sure we're holding ourselves accountable for those things.

JT: Has being part of this initiative been rewarding in a way that you didn't expect? Has it helped you see things in a different way?

LM: Yeah, for sure. It’s made me realize how important and powerful organizing is for the improvised music community and how we all sort of depend on each other.

JT: Yeah, I think I wanted to get your input on that because I’ve been kind of pleasantly surprised to see that you guys as a group of artists who are already playing together and are good friends are also welcoming people from outside your circle. In my time living here I can confidently say that this is somewhat rare.

LM: Yeah..I hope it becomes less rare. I've met some people that have really made it feel like home here.

I think it’s hard to feel a sense of community in a place like New York, where artists-entrepreneurs are constantly up against so many things. It seems like everyone’s competing for the same opportunities.

I think community building starts on a personal level...who you hang out with or talk to, who’s in your band, what kind of bills you’re curating if you’re a bandleader. All of these things are part of what makes a community. The 501c3 is just a status.

JT: So we’ve talked about your main projects, but I can also see that you're doing quite a bit of one off gigs with people just improvising. How has that been helpful in your development?

LM: I often feel like there's a lot of pressure to play written music or to present something really polished, which I also enjoy, but it’s nice to get to know someone intimately without the pressure of following a specific musical format. It’s really invigorating getting to know their musical perspective in an open space and forming a connection.

Depending on the improvisational context, I sometimes feel that there’s nothing I wish to contribute on the drum set. It’s encouraged me to work on different techniques that might produce different sounds and timbres and to search for percussion instruments that might give me a broader range of expression. My dream is to build a drum cage like the one in that iconic photo with Roscoe Mitchell!

JT: Are there any of the other projects that you have that you would like to talk about or mention any other experiences that have been meaningful to you recently?

LM: I recently spent two weeks in Newton, MA with my good friends Maya and Akiva. We had no agenda other than to play music if we felt like it. It was one of the more intimate and spiritually fulfilling experiences I’ve had in awhile. The music felt like an extension of our cooking together, our swims in the lake, our humming. I listened back to some of the recordings we made a few days ago...it feels both personal and non-precious. It reminds me of these words by Nicole Mitchell--

“If you practice your connection to the stars enough, you can go anytime you please. The Dogon mastered it, but the shoebox architects sold kids on rap videos over stargazing. Doesn’t matter how much pollution, or how many ceilings or drones are flying above, the stars are there. I promise. No wonder Lightin’ Hopkins, Jeff Parker, Jimi Hendrix and all the bluesmen made their own vessel guitars to communicate here. And ever better, I’m tellin’ you, there are no consequences, no punishments and no side effects except joy and more strength. Can you imagine? I’m thinking, maybe we can build a bridge from pain to hope and insight and take all our families there.”

JT: Thank you Lesley!

LM: Yeah, thanks so much for doing this.

You can learn more about Lesley on her website: https://www.lesleymok.com/

Lesley has all her releases available on: https://lesleymok.bandcamp.com/

[puffmamaa]

Elbow Deep: Part 2

Hey, everybody! So here is Part 2. Finally! After racking my brain for daaayss, I was able to find some inspiration to write this. It will be a series btw. My first, so be gracious. I’m sensitive about my shit.

CATCH UP: Part 1.

Pairing: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Black, Dark-Skin, Plus Size OC. (Always💛)

Summary: It all started with a plate of hot wings, y’all.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Cussing. Use of the N-word. Mention of the death of a parent. Mention of emotional abuse, fatphobia, & cheating in a romantic relationship. And a small mention of Steve Harvey, just in case the thought of his mustache triggers anybody. 🙃

A/N: I had to make some changes. One big one is that Erik isn’t the director of the Wakandan Outreach Center like what was mentioned in Part 1. He actually doesn’t work with it at all. But it’ll all be explained as we go along. Hopefully, it’ll makes sense. If not, I’ma need y’all to just roll with it anyways lol.

Bold, Italic font is inner dialogue.

——

Janessa moved through the gala hall towards her sit, her thick hips swaying between the tables.

“Girl, where the hell did you go? Leaving me here all by myself,” Chantelle, Janessa’s best friend, scowled lowly. She was a tall, fluffy-thick with sepia brown skin that was complimented well by her long, navy gown. Her fluffy burgundy twist was pinned in a cute updo.

“You’re the one who nearly begged to be my plus one. I figured you wouldn’t mind,” Janessa whispered back, tossing her black, waist length locs over her shoulder as she sat down. “Plus, I was hungry and had to find something actually edible.”

“Heffa, you ate without me? What kind of friend…” Chantelle gave her a betrayed look.

“You looked fine picking at that bird food early. Kiki-ing real hard with whoever that guy was.”

“That’s because he looked like he had a little money. But he was a whole cornball. Going on about Steve Harvey being his role model or something. I couldn’t hear shit else after that.”

Janessa scoffed. “You better leave them bootstrappin’ negros alone.”

“I know. I usually wouldn’t even entertain…” Chantelle trailed off. “Who is that guy staring at you?” 

“What?” Janessa replied, looking in the same direction as Chantelle. “Oh. I meet him earlier in the kitchen. We had some wings together.”

“You sure all he wanted was the wings? Cause he’s looking at you like you’re a bowl of gravy. And he’s the biscuit.”

“Girl,” Janessa huffed.

“Uh, uh. He FINE fine.” She squinted her dark brown eyes. “Did you at least give him your number?”

“Hell no. I didn’t come here for all tha—OW!” She yelped.

Chantelle had given her one of those big mama church pinches.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“Letting his delectable ass get away. I should do worse but we in public so I’ll let you live,” she half joked.

Janessa rubbed the sore spot on her thigh and looked over towards Erik. He was staring. And he was fine. It’s not like she didn’t notice before. She definitely did. His smooth brown skin and dark amber eyes. The way his meticulously sculpted facial hair framed his deep dimples. And those lips. She could feel herself starting to overheat. Uh, uh. No Ma’am. To her, a man like that couldn’t be nothing but trouble.

“Girl, I’m good,” Janessa said.

“Nah. You trippin’, is what you is,” Chantelle huffed, turning her attention back to the stage.

—

“And now for a particularly special part the evening. My favorite, I might I add...”

Erik tuned out the sound of T’Challa’s voice. All he could focus on was the beautiful woman in white and the way her dark, umber colored skin glistened against her bright dress. Janessa. The woman he’d just spent over half an hour eating hot wings with. The woman he’d felt oddly comfortable with in such a short period of time. The same woman he let leave his presence without asking her out or at very least, getting her number.

To be honest, Erik didn’t usually have to ask. Women would sell their panties for a chance to get at him. He even had to keep a few beckies at arm’s distance throughout the night. But not her. She actually walked her fine, plump ass out of the kitchen without so much as a second glance back. It hit him in his ego, he’d had to admit. But it also made him more interested in her.

Erik moved from his spot on the wall, eying a way to get over to her.

“Hey—Wait a minute, aren’t you from Wakanda? A short, thin-lipped white man asked.

“No.” Erik said blankly, attempting to move past him.

“Yes! I remember seeing you with the King before. Wa...W’kabi, isn’t it?

“Hell nah,” Erik flared his nostrils. “Ain’t nobody ever tell you it’s rude to talk during presentations?”

“Oh! Well, I didn’t me—“

“Yeah, uh huh,” Erik said inching away. He scanned the room. I just had my eyes on her...

“...so let’s give a round of applause to our honoree, The 2019 Most Influential Community Leader of the Year, Janessa James!”

Erik snapped his neck around so fast he swore he heard it crack. He looked up to see Janessa on stage exchanging a handshake and hug with T’Challa.

—

“I’m so proud of my baby!” Chantelle squeezed her arms around Janessa’s neck. “The best Director East Oakland Community Outreach Center has ever seen and now being honored by the King? My bestie is a bad boosh!”

“Thanks, girl!” Janessa hugged her back just as tight. “But you know we all put in hella work for the community. What would I do without my Assistant Director, holding me down?”

“Well, shit let me hold the award then.” She said taking the plaque from her bestie.

“Congratulations, Janessa!” Shuri hugged her from behind. “I’m so glad you and the center are getting the exposure you deserve!”

“I should be thanking you too. All you’ve done with helping us start the STEM program,” Janessa beamed at the teenage genius.

Shuri shot her a big smile. She had spent the last year partnering with the East Oakland Community Outreach Center. Her work introduced the youth in the community to STEM education they wouldn’t regularly have access to in their underfunded school system. She loved the center and had built meaningful relationships with so many of the people there.

“You are too kind. You know, I...” Shuri turned around slowly, feeling a large yet familiar presence behind her.

“Congratulations. I didn’t know you were being awarded tonight,” Erik said to Janessa, slowly moving his cousin out of the way.

“How do you two know each other?” Shuri questioned.

“We met earlier,” Erik replied, not taking his eyes off Janessa.

“There he goes with that staring again,” Chantelle teased as she moved to greet him. “I’m Chantelle. Janessa’s best friend.” She extended a hand to him.

He smiled and took it. “Erik.”

“MMhmmp! Look at those dimples. Deep enough to hide from the police in,” She chirped.

Janessa chuckled. Her friend was so damn extra.

Erik turned his attention back to Janessa. He look her over slowly and licked his juicy lips. “I was thinking, since we had such a good time earlier, how about I treat you to a real meal?” He ran his knuckle down the length of her arm.

Janessa raised an eyebrow at him, flicking his finger off of her. “Uh, no. I’m good,” she scoffed.

Erik and Chantelle both cocked their necks back.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, are you busy or something? Cause I can do lunch too.”

“No. Well, I am a busy woman. But that’s not why I’m not interested. I just...don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to? Why?” Erik was genuinely confused. He did not expect her to turn him down. “I thought we were vibin’ back there.”

“We had a nice little conversation. A cute time. But that doesn’t mean I owe you a date.” Janessa said in a harsh tone.

“And I—oop.” Shuri yelped.

Chantelle’s jaw damn near hit the floor. She knew her friend to pull no punches with men but she was laying it on extra thick with Erik.

“Come on, baby girl.” Erik ran a hand over his hair. “You serious right now?”

“As a heart attack, baby boy.”

Erik furrowed his brows.

“Well, we’ve got to get going. Bye Shuri. I’ll see you later,” Janessa gave Shuri a quick hug.

She gave Erik a cold once over and turned back at Shuri. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She grabbed Chantelle, whose mouth was still wide open, and headed towards to exit. Erik stood there, still thrown off at the scene that just played out.

Shuri exploded with laughter. “Now, N’Jadaka. I thought you said you had ‘the juice’.”

She patted her baffled cousin on the back and walked away, still giggling.

—

“BITCH, what the hell?” Chantelle pressed hand to Janessa’s forehead. “Did you bump your head or some shit? That fine ass man just asked you out. Not only did you decline, but you left that poor baby with half his face on the floor,” She laid her head back against the seat, still in shock at her friends actions.

“He’s a grown ass man. He’ll be just fine. And like I said to you and him, I’m good,” Janessa bent down to remove her heels. “I know his type. Arrogant. Smooth. And rude as fuck. Talking about ‘Let me treat you to a meal.’ Because I’m a big girl, I must want to eat? Tuh! And did you see him touch me? Uh, uh. He’s probably used to having his way with women.”

“If I were you, I would have let him have his way with me,” Chantelle retorted.

“I’d rather not be number ‘umpeenth’ on his hit it and quit it list.”

“That‘s a damn shame,” Chantelle shook her head. “He look like he got good dick. The kind you need right about now. That ‘let him drop you off at your job in your car’ kind of dick.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never find out.”

“Speak for yourself. I’ma see if his ass is on BLK.” Chantelle pulled out her phone and stated swiping through her apps.

Janessa gave her a vicious side-eye.

“OKAY. I’m was just playing, damn.” Chantelle said as putting her phone away. She pulled out the parking lot and headed back towards their neighborhood.

—

Janessa pushed her large black rimmed glasses further up her face and streched her body in her plush office chair. She rubbed her hands down her high waisted olive colored pants and adjusted her long-sleeved, cream colored wrap top. She sighed as she pulled her long ponytail of locs over her shoulder. The center was preparing for its Annual Juneteenth Celebration. Which meant more work added to her already full schedule. But she couldn’t complain too much. It was her favorite event of the year. The whole block came out; youth, elders, and everyone in between. They’d have spades and uno games going. Basketball and baseball competitions. And a huge cookout, where the women would argue over who made the best potato salad while the men drank Coronas and grilled meat. But the best part was the ending ceremony. Everyone would meet in the basement of the center. One of the griots would tell stories of their ancestors and their survival through middle passage and slavery. The youth would give dance performances and skits, inspired by the favorite Black icons and moments in history. At the end, they would pray and sing songs to pay respect and homage to those that came before them. It was a beautiful day and never failed to bring Janessa to tears. Seeing her culture celebrated so proudly across generations really touched her heart.

A small knock at her door shook her out of her thoughts.

“Come in.”

“Hey, boss lady,” Chantelle smiled, walking into the office. She sat down in one of the chairs in front her friend’s crowded desk.

“Hey, Channy,” Janessa said, “What’s up?”

“Derek just checked today’s delivery. The order for the sports equipment was short.”

“Short? That’s not possible. I doubled checked the numbers myself,” Janessa furrowed her brows. “Did they mix up the order or something.”

“Nope. We both checked the invoice. I wasn’t a mistake on their end.”

“That can’t be right…” Janessa let out a deep sigh. She pressed a button on her office phone, buzzing her assistant. “Tandy, can you come here for a second?”

She was met with low giggles and whispers from the other end.

“Tandy?” She said a little louder.

“Oh! Hey, what‘s up?”

“I asked if can you come into my office.”

“Um yeah, hold on.”

Tandy entered Janessa office holding her cell in her hand. She was tall, slim and light-brown skin with a short brown TWA.

“You rang?” She said in a sing-songy voice.

Chantelle groaned.

“You ordered the sports equipment, right?”

“Yeah, I did. Why?”

“Well, only about half came. And based on the invoice, it’s because the wrong order was placed. Did you order thirty, like I asked?”

“Thirty? Girl, I thought you said thirteen. My bad.”

Janessa rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Chantelle gave Tandy a wide-eyed look.

“Tandy. I sent it in an email. And I told you in person. Twice.”

“Ohh, Pffhhtt! I don’t be checking that email like that,” Tandy let out a short laugh. “You want me to order more?”

“No, Tandy,” Janessa tried to remain calm and professional. “They wouldn’t be here in time anyways. I’ll take care of it.”

She shrugged. “Okaay. Well, do you need anything else from me?”

“No, that’s all.”

“Cool. I’ma go head and take my lunch then,” She exited the office, giggling at something on her phone as she closed the door.

Janessa threw her head back and let out a loud groan.

“I swear that girl is gonna be the death of me.”

“I don’t know how you deal with it. Between all the attitude and incompetence. Girl I can’t,” Chantelle shook her head in disbelief.

“Who you telling? If it’s not her constantly messing something up, she’s flirting with any breathing body that walk through the door,” Janessa rolled her eyes. “Last week I caught her getting fresh with the damn UPS man. And don’t get me started on the volunteer sign up. She ‘forgot’ to update the dates on the form and now we’re short-handed for this weekend.”

“Two words: New Assistant.”

Janessa sighed, “I know, I know. But I’m trying to give her a chance, you know? She’s young and needs experience. And you know it’s hard for us. What’s the point of me being in this position if not to put other Black women on?”

“I hear you. But for one, she’s not that much younger than us. And for two, she obviously doesn’t take her job seriously. I get your trying be patient and understanding, but you got to consider the big picture. It seems like she’s adding more stress to your load than anything.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” Janessa rolled her lips, looking off into the distance.

“Listen,” Chantelle rubbed her hands over her knee-length black dress. “There’s something else I needed to talk to you about.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“That whole scene the other night, at the gala.”

“Girl, I know you’re not still on that.”

“Yeah, well you were kind of doing the most, friend. What was up with that?”

“I told you. I don’t trust guys like him.”

“But you don’t know him,” Chantelle said. “He could be a decent guy. I mean, he was cool enough for you to eat chicken wings with. What could a date hurt?”

“Why are you defending him? You don’t know him either.”

“I’m not defending him. I’m looking out for you,” She scooted closer to the desk, looking Janessa in the eyes. “I’ve seen you shut down almost ever guy who shows any kind of interest in you. I know men can be trash but you don’t have to give up on all of them. Everybody isn’t Andrew.”

Janessa shifted uncomfortably at the sound of her ex-boyfriend’s name. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“I mean you haven’t really dated anyone seriously since him. And it’s been years now.”

“So what? Being single is a problem? Turning down some stupid ass niggas who just want to waste my time is wrong?” She scowled in a defensive tone.

“No. It’s just...I worry about you sometimes. I know between dealing with Drew and what happened with you dad, it’s been hard for you to—.”

“I said, I’m fine. Okay?” Janessa fingered the sun-shaped pendant on her necklace. ”Look, I need to pick up this equipment while I have some extra time.”

“Nessa, I’m didn’t mean to upset you,” Chantelle grabbed her hand.

“I’m cool,” Janessa snatched her hand back. She stood up, grabbing her denim jacket and purse. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Chantelle sighed, walking out of the office with her. “Okay.”

—

Janessa rushed through Joyner’s Sporting Goods, one of the only Black-owned sporting good stores in the city. She hated last minute shopping. But she obviously couldn’t trust her assistant with a simple task. Plus, she needed to get out the office. Chantelle’s comments had gotten to her. She knew she meant well, but her relationship with Andrew was a sensitive topic for her. He was her first everything, including her first heartbreak. She met him right after her father passed. He took advantage of her vulnerability and insecurity, always insinuating she wasn’t pretty enough or needed to lose weight. In the end, he winded up leaving her for some chick he was sleeping with while they were still together. Janessa was a complete mess after that. Chantelle was the one who helped her keep it all together. She didn’t have any other family around since her father was basically a single parent. Chantelle was even the one who encouraged her to start volunteering at the center in the first place. She was all Janessa had.

“Damn. I should have gotten a cart.” Janessa said as she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She shifted the stuff in her arms around to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Just checking your ETA. We still have some details we need you to finalize for this weekend.” Chantelle said through the phone.

“I’m still in Joyner’s but I should be finished soon,” Janessa sighed, shuffling her weight between her feet. “Channy, I’m sorry about earlier. I know I was a little rude. It’s just all that stuff...I don’t have time for it right now.”

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have brought it up while you were working. I was just concerned,” she said.

“I know. And I appreciate it. You’re always looking out for me.”

“And you know this,” Chantelle joked. “For both you and your lil nani, at this point. Because I’m concerned for her too.”

Janessa let out a loud laugh. She turned around to continue her shopping and smacked right into a shelf, knocking everything out of her arms.

“Shit,” Janessa yelped.

“You okay?” Chantelle asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Janessa sighed, trying to balance her phone between her shoulder and ear as she kneeled down. “I just need to hurry up and get out of here.“

“You need some help?”

Janessa looked up in the direction of a familiar voice. Standing there was Erik, with a smug little smirk on his handsome face. He wore a black hoodie that read ‘Lost Tribe’, black basketball shorts, and all black Air Max 90’s. His locs hung loosely to one side.

“Aw hell,” She whispered, still crouched down. “Not you.”

“Look Too Tough, I’m just trying to help. With your short, little arms I don’t think you can hold all that and run ya mouth on the phone at the same time,” He teased, leaning on his shopping cart.

“Huh? Who was that?” Chantelle questioned.

“Nobody. I’ll talk to you later,” Janessa quickly hung up and turned her attention back to Erik. “Too tough? Really nigga?”

“Yea, cause that’s how you was acting the other night,” He grinned, his gold slugs gleaming.

“Whatever,” She tried to grab some of her stuff off the floor. “I’m good, I got it.”

“You good,” Erik mocked, squatting down to help her. “What you need with all these toys, anyways? You got kids?”

“And if I do? Will that get you to leave me alone?”

“Nah. Kids love me,” He placed a couple of baseball bats in the cart.

Janessa rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Well, for your information, nosey. I don’t have any kids. These are for the center I work at.”

“Riight. Director of the East Oakland Community Outreach Center. Most Influential Community Leader of the Year.”

“You’ve been stalking me or something?”

Erik chuckled, “No, but I do tend to research things that interest me.”

Janessa snorted, rolling her eyes harder. “You’re laying it on pretty thick there, sir.”

”I could say the same for you and all your attitude, ma’am.”

Janessa let out a long sigh. This nigga got an answer for everything.

“Look, I still have more shopping to get done and other places to be. So, I can’t stand here and chat with you all day.”

“Cool, me too. Let’s go.” Erik grabbed the cart, and turned around. He pushed it towards the next aisle. Janessa reluctantly followed. She didn’t really need a shopping buddy but that didn’t stop Erik from grabbing her shopping list and picking things out. She attempted to regain control over her shopping trip but Erik wasn’t having it. Eventually she relented, figuring it was easier to let him take over instead of fighting him in the middle of the store. She tried to keep the conversation at a minimum but that was damn near impossible with all the questions he asked. Eventually, she told him more about her work at the center, including the Juneteenth Celebration. He told her that he owned and operated his own fitness studio, which made sense as to why he seem to know the store like back of his hand. And why he was built like a fucking brick wall. Janessa had to catch herself from staring at his body every time he turned away or bent down. But before she realized it, she found herself actually enjoying his company. Well, for a second time.

They both checked out and headed towards the parking lot. Janessa unlocked her car and popped the trunk. Erik pulled the shopping cart towards it and loaded her bags inside.

“Thanks,” she said jingling her keys in her hands.

“No problem,” Erik closed the trunk. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re letting me help you, Too Tough.”

Janessa laughed at the nickname this time. “Are you always this corny?”

“You could find out if you let me take you on a proper date.”

“Haven’t we done this already?”

“Yeah, when you shot me down in front of all those people and left me heartbroken in the middle of the floor. Only to twirl away and out the door with your friend,” Erik recited, dramatically flaring his hands. “Yet here I am, brave enough to try again. You gonna go easy on a nigga this time?”

Janessa rolled her eyes. “That was me being easy on you.”

Erik let out a light laugh, “I couldn’t tell. I mean damn, ma. You act like I got the cooties or something.”

Janessa noticed his face soften a little. She sighed. “Listen, I got a lot going on right now. Things have been crazy hectic at work. And this weekend is approaching fast. I have tons of things to do. Paperwork to review. Hella meetings to attend. And I still have to figure out how to replace the volunteers we lost,” Janessa took a long breath to stop her ranting. “I don’t have the time for this.”

“Volunteers?”

“Yeah, we’re short a bunch of volunteers for the celebration.”

“Hmm,” Erik rub his hand through his beard. “You know, I’m free this weekend.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, I can stop by and help out. Whatever you need.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. On one condition, though.” Erik moved closer and lowered himself to meet her height, his nose almost touching hers. The scent of his cologne teased Janessa’s nostrils. Damnit, he smells good.

“And what’s that?” She said, bringing herself back to the conversation.

“You agree to go out with me.”

Janessa squinted her eyes at him. She wasn’t in a position to turn down volunteers, especially if she wanted this event to go off without a hitch.

Erik raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Fine. I’m sure your brolic ass could help with some of the heavy lifting.”

Erik shot her a big grin and licked his lips. “Perfect.”

Janessa gave him the center’s contact information and a copy of the event flyer before getting into her car.

“Aight, Too Tough. I’ll see you this weekend.” Erik said.

She pursed her lips lightly. “See you, Erik.”

He winked and jogged off in the opposite direction.

Janessa started her car and pulled out the lot. As she drove, her thoughts drifted to Erik. His persistence was annoying as fuck. But at the same time, kind of cute? She thought about what Chantelle said earlier. Maybe she could give him a chance. It’s just one date.

She let out a deep sigh. The whole thing still made her feel uneasy. Erik was a charming motherfucker. She knew that too much of him and she’d be like Jill Scott, singing about grits and shit.

She clutched her necklace, fiddling with the sun-shaped pendant.

It was going to be an interesting weekend.

——

Taglist: @essaysbyciara @janelledarling @destinio1 @bitchacho25 @chaneajoyyy @quietstorm-73 @lifelover4u

Let me know what y’all think!

Like, comment, & reblog!

🌞

[harringrovelove]

Something Solid: Part I

A HARRINGROVE SUMMER OF LOVE HEADCANON

At the beginning of summer, school’s out (finally!) and the gangs all together, constantly using every bit of freedom to hang out: swim at Steve’s pool, ride their bikes, D&D, watch movies- you know, getting to be kids in general. The first part of the summer is marked by Billy apologizing to Lucas (my theory is after the events of last season Billy realizes it’s up to him to not become like his dad and therefore starts making an effort to be different), being a protective brother to Max- something she finds at times annoying and at other times endearing in a way she has always wanted from her brother, and Billy slowly but surely being accepted by Max and her friends- especially El. She has been oddly supportive of Billy from the beginning- of course Max knows why. This leads to Steve and Billy, the natural chaperones, spending more and more time together. Awkward and barbed at first, this quickly subsides over, basically, it’s more enjoyable to be getting along than constantly arguing. Plus, because Steve doesn’t give a shit what Billy thinks, Billy’s antagonistic antics are usually unsuccessful.  

So Billy & Steve’s summer is spent together, at first by circumstance, sometimes swimming with the kids or even D&D- Billy was reluctant at first but is now well and truly hooked thanks to Dustin (Dustin & Billy have their own nerd-bonding when Billy lets Dustin borrow his small -and secret!- but coveted comic book collection). And when Steve & Billy aren’t chaperoning, they start doing their own thing together like playing basketball- turns out they make a perfect team when Billy isn’t antagonizing Steve. Surprise surprise, these two dummies actually enjoying spending time together when they both let their guard down.

Of course various Upside Down things occur (nothing truly major) that lead to Billy finding out the truth about Hawkins & El, who is slightly in shock at first, a little disbelieving, but lets face it, Billy’s seen his share of monsters and these Upside Down creatures are just another breed to him. These monsters, Billy thinks, are easier to deal with- they aren’t disguised on the outside like people can be...like Neil. He deals and proves strangely dependable to group and Max. (Although clearly Steve and Billy are finding kicking monster butt together both thrilling & therapeutic).

No real danger, but there’s some solid stray demo-dog take-downs where they both have each other’s back and come out on top. Of course when Billy and Steve fight together they are magically in sync, almost like a dance; a monster-ass-kicking dance.  The few times the kids & Nancy + Jonathan were present to witness the Billy & Steve dynamic it just kind of stopped them in their tracks, staring as the two boys demolished 4 demo-dogs together. When it was over, Steve & Billy, high on adrenaline, laughing and breathing heavy, looked over after high-fiving and noticed their friends staring, clearly clueless to how they appear: “What??” Billy and Steve say in unison. “uhhh, nothing, good jobs” are uttered as the group re-calibrates, no one sure how to explain it. Steve slings an arm of Billy’s shoulder, and vice versa as everyone heads to Hopper’s cabin for post-monster fighting ice cream and eggos.

For Billy and Steve, what started out as against-their-will bonding turns into real authentic friendship and then some: Billy confides in Steve the abuse he endures by his dad, and Steve admits to being haunted by the trauma surrounding the Upside Down and having to go home to an empty house every night. Billy gathers that Steve’s preppy rich-kid image couldn’t be further from the truth and Steve realizes that Billy isn’t the jock asshole he pretends to be.

Sometimes, when one can’t find the other, they know without question that they can find the other at the edge of the world (the rock quarry), and so will drive out and quietly keep the other company against whatever monster is haunting them that night. (It’s here at the rock quarry one night that Billy, unable to look at Steve, apologizes in a thick voice about that night at the Byer’s when he nearly beat Steve to who knows. And it’s here that Steve realizes that he’s already forgiven Billy, and even though Billy doesn’t think he deserves forgiveness, Steve makes it known…gently grabbing a now silently-crying Billy, holding him till he stops struggling and says “you’re my best friend.”)

And because I’m a slut for friends to enemies to would-be-lovers, these two are falling deep for each other without admitting it to themselves, let alone each other. And because Neil is Neil, he eventually gets angry about something random and takes it out on Billy- Billy gets cut/injured along his torso, and when he arrives at Steve’s (because going to his best friend’s house when he’s hurting is more comforting that he can bear to think, let alone say), naturally Steve has him sit with his shirt off at the kitchen table while crouching down to tenderly clean up Billy’s injury. Cue Steve feeling extremely protective over Billy + wanting to destroy Neil, and feeling heat in a way he can’t give words to because Billy is here, half naked in front of him, so close he can smell him and it’s dizzying. Cue Billy being frozen by the intimacy of being truly cared for by his best friend and feeling warm everywhere because having Steve’s hands actually touch him is awakening something (love!) in him that scares him.

“Guess this is what I get for being an asshole for all those years” Billy rasps jokingly to lighten to the mood. Steve stops breathing for a moment and maybe gets too intense, but he can’t help it, with Billy as he grabs his hand and makes him look in his eyes, saying shakily “This is wrong, Billy, what’s happening to you is wrong. But you’re not. You’ve done bad things, but you aren’t bad. Do you understand, Billy? You are not bad.” And it’s so intense that Billy can only dazedly shake his head yes as he tries to blink away the tears stinging his eyes. Steve nods briefly before going to back to cleaning Billy’s injury, and both are silently thinking I can do many things but being without you is not one of them.

This is the first night Billy stays the night- he sleeps in the guest bedroom right next to Steve’s and this becomes a frequent occurrence for Billy to stay over when he’s able to or can’t go home.  A few weeks later he’s sleeping over in the guest room (after the kids went home Billy & Steve drank Steve’s dad’s whiskey and played records and jokingly insulted the others taste in music) but gets woken up at some point in the night by Steve having a nightmare. When he rushes into the room- both of them in their little basketball shorts- Steve is already sitting upright on the edge of his bed, breathing heavy and mortified that he woke Billy up with one of his screaming nightmares. Billy crouches down in front of Steve, gently makes Steve look him in the eyes – they are so close they are sharing the same breath – and tells Steve he has nightmares too. Billy quietly tells him about his nightmares about his mom, his dad (doesn’t mention that losing Steve is now a feature in his nightmares now), and says, almost without thinking, that spending time with Steve helps his nightmares. That Steve can call him anytime he has one, anytime it gets too bad, that there’s nothing wrong with being scared of the big empty house and the monster that could be in the pool outside. That Steve is not stupid, and that he’s not bullshit. That Steve takes care of everyone all the time, and Billy gives a little huff of a laugh and nudges Steve’s knee when he says “so I’ll have to look after you”, trying to play it off like a joke and not like the promise it is. But Steve’s eyes glisten slightly in the dark as he softly says back “And I’ll look after you.”

Soft touches, shared glances, and brief blushing smiles become all too common between them in the weeks that follow (they try to rationally explain this away to themselves when they’re alone- that the other couldn’t possibly feel the same way, that they don’t want to lose the one real best friend they have by confronting feelings they’ve both never felt before). Of the short time periods they are not together- when Steve’s parents show up for a night or Billy has to stay home overnight because Neil- a void is felt by the other’s absence that both Steve and Billy start to admit (only to themselves, of course) feels painful in a way that nothing ever has before. That when they are together it feels right, feels solid. That the other feels like home. Like something they’ve never ever had before And it’s only when they are alone at night, in bed, thinking so loudly they are sure someone can hear them, will they acknowledge their biggest secret: that they are in love with their best friend.

END OF PART 1!

Part 2 coming shortly, but this is just a headcanon I would love for someone to take and turn into a full-fledged fic- that would be my dream! I just don’t think I can do it justice but if you want to take it on, just let me know, I would be thrilled! 

I had to re-write all this because it disappeared- honestly, I just don’t know how to Tumblr sometimes, but! this is the first thing I have creatively written for this website and it’s all because of my favorites who are my inspirations in this Harringrove fandom- you all are seriously amazing and beyond talented! I re-read your guys work consistently and it brings me such joy so I wanted to share my headcanon idea with you guys. Tagging my inspirations: @lymricks @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger @pizzacast @gothyringwald @flippyspoon @marsza @highon85 @lemonlovely @granpappy-winchester You guys are amazing!

[dragonpiango]

My review of 2019

January:

So I recently graduated from community college in the previous December, and I started university at HT with a scholarship for piano performance. Honestly I thought going to a HBCU was going to be weird, but turns out I’m not much of an outcast. It was a nice transition to a new setting and new people and a breath of fresh air! It was amazing having a practice room to myself and the mental thought of “getting to know my music” became a reality although my first piano lesson with my new professor was strange. His impression of me was way different than what I thought. Although he is a outstanding teacher, he might have overthought what I was capable of.... him assigning me my pieces and they consisted of Bach French suite No. 5 in G Major, Mozart sonata K.332 in F Major, Chopin Nocturne in D-flat Major, Chopin Scherzo No.2 in b-flat minor, and the most memorable piece IMHO Ravel’s Une Barque Sur L’Ocean from Miroirs.

February:

So still settling into a new university and meeting new people (although I just stayed in the music building bc that’s where all my classes were) it was Black History Month. Being apart of the choir at school and the only ensemble they offered, we were pretty busy with a lot of performances BUT it was enlightening too. Everyone has been so welcoming and coming from a background in classical music I’ve been introduced to Gospel music not only for voice, but piano. From accompanying spirituals to gospel it really has opened my eyes that music doesn’t have to be so strict. It is a way of expressing emotions and from then on I took my repertoire more seriously in the sense each piece had its own “character.”

March:

This month is a crucial one, not only did I find my “clique” at school, but they only consisted of two people. Ant and KayP. Not going to use their names but these two were the only two that understood who I was and I understood who they were. We might have drifted a little bit since one has graduated but in the mean time, during these few months, have been my shoulder to cry on. They were very talented vocalist who taught me a lot in the sense of accompanying and vice versa. Since our school is small, our “accompanist” was my piano teacher, so every rehearsal was around his schedule, until I came into the picture. They really pushed me to get out of my comfort zone and really get me to where I need to be. During this time, I was still working retail and I have a true appreciation for those who commit full time to retail because lemme tell y’all. That shit is a lot of work. Especially around holidays. Balancing out school and work was a struggle, but I managed through especially when I don’t have a piano at home. I have to go to school to practice and with retail, all my extra time would be working.

April:

By this time, everyone is stressing because of finals, but luckily since I grabbed an associates degree from COmmunity college, I didn’t have to take my core classes and cry. Music classes were all my focuses were on especially performance. I had a few performances in between for our seminar where we perform in front of all the music students, and for me, being a pianist, I didn’t have to rely on my teacher for rehearsals and accompanying. I just focused on me and this got me ready for our benefit concert that I was honored to be a part of. KayP being the current Miss HBCU and queen of the school, decided to raise money for students of troubled pasts who have really turned their lives around in college and made a great GPA would be rewarded with scholarship money that we raised. I was the one who got to close the whole show out and it truly was an amazing experience. Being able to perform for a great cause is always heart warming and I will cherish that moment forever.

May:

So the semester comes to an end and I have juries (where we perform our pieces in front of the faculty and get graded ) what I did not know is that since our school is so small, they invite and pay other professors from the biggest university next to us UT Austin and have them come sit and grade us as well. That to me was a shock moment, because coming from a university in a small town before we had enough people and knew everyone. Community college DIDNT have juries for piano which was odd, but this was a perfect opportunity to really put my hard work into good use. After juries, I did splendid with a few mistakes that I was able to recover from, and lemme tell y’all. No performance is perfect. And I have accepted that. My piano teacher hooked me up with one of his good friends who owns and directs her own music school and I became a piano teacher there. Oddly, I’m the youngest teacher there with no doctoral degree and am working on a BA still..... but none the less, this transition really opened my eyes.

June:

School is finally out, and I reduced my retail job to just Saturday. I finally got my reputation as a teacher at my new job and gained students rather quickly to where I was almost booked up Monday through Friday. With little to no teaching experience it was a trial and error process. I was taking over a studio of a former teacher who had visa issues. So all his students were a tad skeptical with me more so their parents. But after observing lessons and learning their names it was only a matter of time that I was teaching them and really became someone they look up to. It started off rocky because I wasn’t used to a build your own schedule, from what I’ve experienced with teaching at a music school is that someone does the schedule for you. Not in this case, so having to communicate and try to accommodate every students schedule was a tough start, but once I got used to it, the ride was easy from there. Unfortunately, most students were gone on vacation so I had to work with only a few who stayed in town and accommodate those who were in town for that week. That aside, my communication improved after constantly talking with parents 24/7.

July:

This is where life gets exciting. My boyfriend had surprised me with tickets to go to Chicago. I would go back because the city is amazing and food is delicious and it’s easy to get around in Chicago. It was a nice break from work and really helped me bond with my partner. During this time we had two cats. One names Roger and the other Gladys. So a little back story, when I moved in with my partner, his cats basically adopted me. Gladys was a daddy’s girl and kept to Todd mostly but she was very seeet with me and made adorable monkey noises when you picked her up and cuddled with her. She was diagnosed with cancer and the year before that we made the decision to remove her tumor and hope that she would live a healthy life. Well this is where the tumor came back full force and in Chicago, I was a wreck because I felt bad enjoying my time away and leaving her at home. My partner (who is the mature one in our relationship) had a sit down with me about what to do with her and I lost it. He didn’t want to put her down either, but it was for the best. We agreed to keep her comfortable until we knew it was time. Before the month ends tho, we are back home and my sisters boyfriend sends me a text saying he is serious about her and wants to marry her. The retail I work for is a jewelry store and he had asked me to help pick out a diamond for my sister since he knew what she wanted. So this was the good news. We find the diamond, and have it set in her favorite setting and my boyfriend who is full of surprises gets me a ticket to visit her in LA.

August:

So my birthday month is here, and I fly out to LA to deliver the ring to my now sisters fiancé and they fly out to Italy and he does the deed and she says yes. Happy note. But as school starts back up for the new semester, my partner had a issue to where he would be in a state to where he couldn’t move much due to a unusual circumstance. And before that we decided to put Gladys down. It was a tough decision but we gave her the best life we could ever had hoped for her and I was emotionally drained from everything. Having to keep a positive attitude for my students and going to school and being an adult in general. The only way I got thru this period is from my best friend and coworker who knows what it’s like to go through life and it’s always better to have an open mind and ear to talk to. I call her my mamma because she’s like a mother figure to me but also a amazing friend. Without her, I probably wouldn’t have been mentally there at all for anyone. In the time of summer until now I haven’t had a chance to practice because I forgot to mention that i had a Jr recital coming up which is why my repertoire was so big.

September:

After everything passed and I’m in a better mental state, I proceed to my schedule of school and work and find a time to practice in between. What’s great about this month is that since the semester just started, I had plenty of time to catch up on my practice and really get my lessons to become productive in shaping and understanding different musical styles. My partner is all better and life is great because I was in the best part of my life. Doing well in school, amazing texting job, and a best friend who is there for me and most importantly my partner. He’s been my rock since we first met and I can always rely on him and vice versa. He understood that with my free day off that I needed to spend it practicing and told me to go for it and be as productive as I can. I honestly wasn’t used to that kind of support but I am grateful.

October:

This is where reality hits and my recital is next month. I get very crazy about everything. I had all my music learned but because of my indecisiveness, I kept changing how I shaped everything and my mind goes blank. Probably a dark time for me because I didn’t know how to handle this kind of stress. I’ve put on hour long recitals before and the only thing different this time is that I’m getting graded and want to make such a great impression to further my education to a dictator degree. The dress was eating me alive and on top of that, one of my students decided he wants to enter in a competition and I say why not. Let’s do it. Getting him ready for that and keeping my sanity was hard to do but I managed. He did well, but not well enough to get a medal but his parents were very impressed with how quickly he progressed with me. That’s always a plus, right?

November:

The month has come for me to have my big recital and I invited all my friends and coworkers and they all made it. I was truly nervous but if you don’t get nervous, are you even human? It turned out wonderful although the first piece (Bach French suite) was shaky, I had to tell my self that I was having fun and everyone here is here to support me and want me to do well. That little talk was a confidence booster and ended the recital flawlessly. After my recital, my job has their student recitals so my focus was all on my students doing the best they can and having fun. This month was fun because I was selected to do masterclasses for piano students through out my job and it was very enlightening to see how talented the new generation of musicians are! Only positive comments because I couldn’t honestly find anything wrong with any of the students performances and their teachers are amazing.

December:

So getting all my students ready for their recital was a big time investment but totally worth it because they all performed so well and I honestly cried bc I felt like a proud parent LOL. But after that was time for the semester to end up and one class was making me go crazy. Everything ended well and I had ALL A’s and one B but I know what to expect for next semester and everything will be great. Honestly this year has me all sorts of fucked up with emotions and I proved to myself that when I stay committed, I can really achieve what I want. This year was a great year for me and a way to end a decade because when 2020 starts, I know what I need to do and where I need to be.

[plasticdodecagon]

I’m not your brother.

This has been sitting in my drafts for a bit! I’ve been wanting to write about Olivia’s friendship with Bill Weasley for a while, so here you go--enjoy!

Synopsis: Olivia Finch says goodbye to Bill Weasley. 

~

"Livvy, would you wake your brother for breakfast? He can't spend all day sulking."

Nine-year-old Olivia Finch only dared to grumble about it when she was safely out of earshot of her parents. Everybody in her family had been on edge for the past few weeks, ever since her parents received the letter from Hogwarts saying that Jacob had been expelled. She didn’t want to talk to Jacob, who’d called her some foul names when she asked why he’d been expelled and why he wouldn’t open his door and why he didn’t want to play with her, but if she complained about it, her parents would become cross with her, too. With Jacob’s expulsion and the war on outside, everybody was a fuse ready to ignite, and Olivia didn’t want to be the one to cast incendio.

She knocked politely on her brother’s door. “Jacob,” she called, “Mum says to come get breakfast.”

No answer. He was probably still cross with her.

She knocked again. “Mum says you have to,” continued Olivia. “You can’t sulk all day. And she made your favorite.” Sausage and scrambled eggs, all cooked the Muggle way. She didn’t taste a difference, and her father claimed there wasn’t one except for inefficiency, but Jacob claimed he did.

Still no response.

She banged on the door again, punctuating each word with a blow: “Jacob! You! Have! To! Eat!” She didn’t know why she’d become so dedicated to the task at hand. Maybe she didn’t want to face her parents alone, the way she had over the past couple of days. She missed her brother’s presence at the kitchen table. She missed her brother, period. “Please, Jacob? Please please please come out?”

Nothing. She turned around to report her findings to her parents downstairs, but she stopped and spun back around to face the door. She turned the door knob. It wasn’t locked, for once. She threw it open and braced herself for the gross smell of a teenage boy’s room--but it never came.

The room was clean, which it only ever was when Jacob was away at school. The bed was made. The desk, usually filled with messy papers that Olivia could never decipher and rough drawings which she never glimpsed too closely, was empty. Jacob’s school trunk was gone. 

And so was Jacob.

~

“I thought I might find you here.”

Olivia Finch, now fifteen years old, looked up from the book she’d been reading in the library for the last eight hours. It was a book about the founders of Hogwarts--a book Rowan had recommended to her nearly five years ago--and contained, perhaps, a clue about the vaults, a clue that would help her to finally find her brother. 

Unfortunately, the kind face before her wasn’t Jacob’s but Bill Weasley’s. He pulled up a chair across from her. “O.W.L.s are over,” he said, smiling, prying the book from her grasp. “You have to relax, Olivia.”

She snatched the book back. “Cursed Vaults are relaxing to me,” she said. 

“Oddly enough, me too,” said Bill. He leaned back, studying her with a smile. 

“Don’t you have a party to be at?” asked Olivia.

Bill laughed, which earned him a shush from Madam Pince. “I could say the same to you,” he whispered. 

“It’s not my goodbye party,” she countered, flipping a page in the book in an effort to appear deeply engrossed in it, in an effort to become deeply engrossed in it. If she could concentrate on the Cursed Vaults, then she wouldn’t have to think about... “You should get back before they notice you’re gone.”

He was silent for such a long time that Olivia thought he might have left. When she looked up, he was still studying her. “I’m leaving whether or not you say goodbye to me,” he said finally.

“Fine,” she said, staring down into her book. “Leave. I don’t care.”

“Really?”

“I don’t,” Olivia insisted, still staring at words that had stopped making any sense to her hours ago. “I don’t. All the time I spent with you was time I should have spent trying to rescue my real brother--my brother--”

“I’m not your brother, Olivia.”

“I’m tired,” she snapped, which earned her a shush from Madam Pince. “Don’t you think I know you’re not really my brother?” she continued in a lower voice. “I’m not stupid--I know that you’re leaving--I know you’re not coming back--I know I’ll never see you again--so just leave, Bill.”

She heard the squeak of Bill’s chair as he stood up, and she felt equal parts relief and guilt and anger--until another squeak, this time of the chair beside her. She didn’t look up this time.

“I’m not your brother,” he said again, “because you know where I’m going. You don’t have to say goodbye to me because this isn’t goodbye. If you think I won’t be writing you about the curses I come across, and if you think I won’t be demanding to help you with Cursed Vaults when I become a real Curse-Breaker, then I don’t know how you got Sorted into Ravenclaw. You can sulk if you want--you can throw a tantrum like Ginny does when we leave for the school year--but when you’re done, I’m going to be no more than an owl away. You’re my best friend, and you always will be. I just wanted you to know.” The chair screeched as he stood up to walk away.

He was already partway down a moving staircase when Olivia caught up to him, tears streaming down her face. She hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry for being stupid,” she sniffed. “I just--I just didn’t want--”

“It’s okay,” said Bill, hugging her back just as tightly. 

“I’ll miss you, Bill,” she said, extracting herself from his arms to wipe her tears on the sleeve of her Weasley sweater.

“You’ll be too busy to miss me,” he joked. “Look after my brothers, will you? And not just Charlie. I know you’ll take good care of him.”

Olivia elbowed him in the side. “I’ll try, Bill, but Charlie and I tried to feed Percy to the Giant Squid a few months ago because he was being so annoying.” And then, to his flabbergasted expression, she added, “It didn’t work.” 

[c-j-writes]

Fictober 2019

Prompt #15 “That’s what I’m talking about!”

[Untitled Gay Mess]

Rating: T

Warnings/Tags: Will involve drug abuse in some chapters

Chapter Fifteen

The halls were oddly safe as I made my way back through them to my science class. If I missed science, Mack and Kloe would both be on my ass about it and I didn’t want to explain to either of them what happened. Not right now. Right now I needed some time to let my mind cool off. Also, the school doesn’t count you as skipping unless it’s two consecutive periods, so they won’t call my dad. 

As I limped towards the science wing, I expected everyone to be staring at me. I mean, naturally, word would have spread by now, right? But no one gave me any dirty looks, just friendly head nods, and the occasional wave. Everything was so normal. This is not what I would’ve expected after getting outed.

Unless Sophie didn’t tell anyone. 

But she had absolutely no reason to keep it to herself. I’d given her direct ammunition to ruin me and she’d already had the pent up rage to pull the trigger. Yet here I was walking through the halls with no bullet in my back. No blood in the water. It felt like too much of a relief. She had to be waiting for something. The perfect moment to catch me off-guard. It’s no fun when they’re expecting it, huh?

I got to the classroom just as the final bell was ringing. The room was still filled with kids settling down as I walked to my seat and sat down. Mack’s stare was burning into me, even from behind Kloe, but I couldn’t bear to meet it. I’d just gotten myself under control, if I looked at her now, I’d be in shards again. 

Kloe gave me a quick smile and a nod, which I returned before laying my head down on my arm and closing my eyes. It hadn’t even been a minute when someone knocked on the table right in front of me and I jolted upright. Mr. Blackwell stood over me with a very unamused face. 

“Consciousness is usually a key factor in learning, Ms. Faultz,” he commented, setting a paper upside down on the table near me. “Nonetheless, I have to say you’ve been improving, good job.” 

When he walked to the next table, I flipped over the paper slowly. Beside me, Kloe was already filing her perfect score into the folder she kept old tests in. I thought it was overkill, but I guess when you’re actually smart, you do things like that. 

“What’d you get?”  She asked me, leaning over to look at my paper. I tilted the paper towards her to show the B- written in red on top. If it were any other day, I’d probably be smiling like crazy. “Nice, that’s what I’m talking about!” Kloe seemed to be excited enough for both of us, which was an odd thing to see in her. But I wasn’t complaining, it made me feel less awkward for my lack of energy. 

“Hey, nerds,” Mack said as she pulled a chair to the front of our table and sat down. She glanced at me, but I kept avoiding her gaze. 

“Isn’t Mr. Blackwell going to get on you about the seating chart?” I asked. I looked up for just enough time to catch her face flinch with hurt before she shook it off and kept smiling. She was used to this from me anyway, hot and cold. 

“Nah, we’re doing test review. He doesn’t give a shit where we sit.” With a subtle nod, I just let my head fall back down to my arm and my eyes closed. 

“Look at Andy’s grade, she did so well,” Kloe gushed. I didn’t know why she was in such a good mood or why she cared so much about my grade. Sure, she was my tutor, but she never seemed that thrilled about it in general. Part of me was annoyed that she was flaunting my grade around as if she hadn’t just aced the same test, but it was Mack. I couldn’t care less if Mack knew how much of an idiot I was. She was some kind of math whiz, so she’d already found out about my stupidity over the summer. 

“Damn, look at you go, Sleeping Beauty,” she replied. The nickname made my veins heat up with annoyance, but it was better than her calling me ‘Andrea’, so I let it go. All I wanted was to sleep for a few years and wake up when all of this shit was over with. I drifted off for a while before I was interrupted again. This time, Mack was tapping on my shoulder. 

With a deep sigh, I asked, “What?” My eyes opened just enough to make out a bleary version of the brunette and the absence of a blonde next to me. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” She kept her voice low and I appreciated it so much I almost wanted to start crying again. But I’d done enough of that for the decade. 

“I really don’t want to talk about right now,” I muttered. Mack nodded, tapping one of her fingers on mine. I imagined she wanted to hold my hand, for comfort, but she knew this was not the time or place for that. 

“Do you still want to go somewhere after school?” So much had happened today, I’d completely forgotten about our secret dates. Just thinking about it now made my head hurt. What was I doing? Sneaking around with some girl as if it could be normal. As if my life wasn’t going insane. 

“I don’t think so.” She just nodded again and I was stuck between being annoyed and thankful for how perfect she was acting. My lips curled into a small smile, deciding for me. 

Just as Kloe was walking back to the table, I let my eyes close again and tried to lose myself in the sound of Mack’s voice while they talked. I tried to convince myself that just doing that wasn’t bad. I mean, it was just a voice. Not some proclamation of love, right?

After school, I crutched my way back to the field. The smell of the grass and the feeling of the sun on my skin was enough to ground me from where my head had already been trying to float off into the abyss. Once I was back on my crate, I took a few deep breaths and let my mind wander to where it’s been trying to go since the beginning of the school year. To white sand and blue sky and soft skin and warm eyes.  

If Sophie actually starts telling people, it’s all going to be over. The team is going to hate me, I’m going to lose my scholarships, and from there, my future will be dust. But I’ll still have this summer. I’ll still have foggy mornings and cloudy evenings and nights under the stars. Those won’t disappear. I won’t let them. 

“I thought I saw you slink off over here.” 

With a start, I almost jumped up at the voice, but my ankle got in the way and I just ended up kicking another crate. I winced at the pain shooting up my leg. 

“Yikes, sorry, dude,” Darian offered, stepping forward to help me set my leg on a crate to keep it out of the way. 

“S’fine,” I whispered, still grimacing through the stinging. She sat down next to me, pulling up a crate of her own. 

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” There was no judgment in her tone, just curiosity, which was normal for her. Darian was never one to judge. Not in all the years, I’d known her. 

“Just needed somewhere to think for a bit.” I let my head loll back to glance through the metal seats, the bright blue sky cutting through just enough. 

“What are we thinking about?” A few birds flew across where the cracks let me see. 

“Shouldn’t you be practicing?” The only reason I could think that she’d be out on the field was if the team was out there. But then, why didn’t they come with her if she came here? 

“Nah, there’s some party tonight that most of the girls are going to so I gave them the day off. I’m not as much of a hardass as you.” She bumped my shoulder with hers and I smiled. 

“They probably wish you were captain this year instead of me.” She snorted, shaking her head. “They’ve always liked you more.”

“Hey, we’re a family, Andy, no one’s allowed to have favorites.” She bumped into me again. “Except for me and I choose Tanya.” I chuckled a bit. 

“Ouch, I thought we went way back?” 

“Oh, we do, T just knows how to keep her mouth shut, none of the rest of you do.” 

“You’re one to talk, Chatterbox.”

“Oh, whatever, Gimp-leg.”