#romanticfanfic

[helbramstrauma-main]

Haircut

Masterlist

Albert DaSilva x Reader

Canon Era: This is just an excuse so I can bring up Nunzio

Word Count: 884

I am forever indebted to my Uncle for allowing me to start an apprenticeship under him. My Uncle Nunzio is a well-known barber in New York City, he often takes extremely wealthy and important clients, so he has made quite the name for himself. He is currently saving up to buy a property so he can cut hair without going to his client's house. Uncle Nunzio claims it will make him more accessible to the public. Which brings us to the present, he has offered to house me, so long as I cut hair to help him save up for his barbershop.

As my Uncle tends to focus on his more prestigious clients I run around the working district of Manhatten giving out cheaper haircuts. Until I make a name for myself I cannot charge nearly as much as Uncle Nunzio, therefore I need experience. My eyes land on a building with a large wooden sign hanging above it that reads, Newsboy Lodging House in bold letters carved into it.

Newsies roam the streets and there is practically on every corner, I would be able to build-up plenty of customers if I cut their hair. They are practically everywhere if word gets out that I cut their hair I will have customers lining up around the block. Unfortunately, I will not be able to charge them but the pay off could be worth it.

I take a deep breath as I enter the small door, as I do so the chatter in the room falls to silence. Everyone in the room is staring at me pressuring me to state my purpose of being there. I swallow the saliva that has accumulated in my mouth before speaking, "Is anyone interested in a free haircut". My voice was shaky but that did not seem to bother the rowdy boys who are all lining up in front of me. I smile from ear to ear knowing that I am going to get some business.

One of the boys brings over a wooden chair, as a different boy begins to sit in it. For most of the boys, I just trimmed the edges, in the most extreme of cases I cut three inches off the top. The most challenging one a boy with blond hair asked me to give him an undercut, which I was unfamiliar with, but I gave it my best shot.

The last boy in line his ginger hair is only peaking though a little bit from under his cap, but once he takes it off the volume of his hair expands. It is some of the most beautiful hair I have ever seen and is astonishingly well kept based on the conditions he lives with. As a nervous gesture, he runs his hand through the front of his hair allowing it to expand even further. I set down my straight razor expecting this to only be a trim as the ends of his hair are the only part that seems a little unhealthy.

The boy sits down in the chair as he introduces himself as Albert. Immediately I start to compliment his hair, and I see a hint of pink appear on his cheeks. I am sitting on the floor in front of him as he explains what he wants. I am in complete shock as I learn that he wants to shave off his hair.

My face visibly falls as I hear he feels a embarrassed by it. I know it technically is not my place to criticize my client's decision but I think it is my obligation to talk him out of this. After he is done explaining what he wants I take a pause before stepping closer to him and kneeling so we are looking eye-to-eye. "Your hair is gorgeous are you sure you want to cut it?" I ask him, hoping he will realize how rash his decision is. However, he only shakes his head in response causing me to frown.

Not knowing what to do I run my fingers through his hair, and he leans into the touch. "I really like your hair. It is healthy too. There is no downside to keeping it." I say gently twirling the ends of it. Albert's eyes are only staring at mine as if they are looking at me for an answer.

After a moment or two of me just playing with his hair, he grabs my hand and sets it on his leg. Looking up at me he begins to speak, "It barely fits under my cap though" he attempts to reason.

I chuckle a little bit, as I place a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. I shoot him a quick smile before I being to speak, "Why hide your hair in the first place?". He pauses for a second to think, and his leg starts to bounce up and down. Again, I start to comb my fingers through his soft locks, and he begins to calm down. His cheeks become almost as red as his hair at my touch though.

Still leaning his head into my touch he begins, "can you still cut the ends?" Albert questions.

I stand up to walk behind him again as I say, "of course. I'm happy you decided to keep the length it suits you".

[d-noona]

MAKE OVER

Chapter 1: The Birthday Girl

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Reader as Kang Hyeonji

SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

Twenty three today, Hyeonji thought as she brushed her hair back from her high forehead and coiled its straight brown length on top of her head. A quarter of century.

Sighing, Hyeonji inserted the first of six security pins without having to look at what she’s doing. She’d done her hair like this for the past few years. It was easy and practical, above all cheap. She needed every spare cent from her pay to make ends meet. At last she glanced up into the vanity mirror and surveyed the finish product with a wry smile. There was no doubt she looked the stereotyped concept of a librarian through and through. Prim hairdo. Prissy blouse. Pleated skirt. All she needed was a horn-rimmed glasses balancing on the end of her none too small nose to complete the staid image.

Hyeonji had twenty-twenty vision, which was unfortunate in some respects. How much kinder it would be, she imagined, to have a fuzzier reflection first thing in the morning. She suddenly saw herself looking in the bathroom mirror on her fiftieth birthday and nothing would have changed much, not even her hairstyle.

She would still be living at home with her mother.

She would still be plain.

And she would still be madly in love with Hoseok. Her shudder was part despair, part self-disgust. For loving Hoseok was such a waste of time; such waste of her life. Hyeonji knew he would never love her back. She no longer clung to the teenage fantasy where Hoseok woke up one day and saw that his feelings for the girl next door had somehow miraculously changed overnight from platonic friendship to an all-consuming passion. By the time she turned twenty-one, Hyeonji had graduated from romantic to realist. Difficult to hold onto such a futile dream in the face of the girl Hoseok brought home with regular monotony.

"Plain" did not describe them. Neither did blue-stocking, nor bookworm, as Hyeonji had been labelled all her life. Hoseok's girlfriends were better known for their bodies rather than their brains. He liked them tall and tanned, with long legs, lush breasts and hair which shimmered. Hyeonji told herself she had the right breasts, but nothing short of the rack was going to add four inches to her average height. And, while her hair was always clean and healthy, mousy brown just never seemed to shimmer.

So Hyeonji had long since abandoned any romantic school girl dreams when it came to Hoseok. Common sense told her he was a lost cause. Yet still she clung to the emotion of loving him, clung to it as a drowning man clung to the most tenuous lifeline. Why else was she living this house which was far too big for just to people and far too expensive? Because Hoseok's family lived next door, that was why. If Hyeonji and her mother moved, she would never see him again. Never feel the joy –as bittersweet as it was, of having him drop in for a drink and chat, he did every once in a while.

Hoseok called her his best friend, but Hyeonji knew she wasn't really that. She was simply there, a convenience, a ready ear to listen and give him feedback on his latest computer game or graphic design idea. A deep dismay momentarily filled her soul before it was abruptly banished by a surprising burst of anger. How could Hoseok be so blind? And so darned insensitive? And why did she have to go on wallowing in his lukewarm and highly one-sided version of their being "Best friends"?

Best friends were supposed to share things, weren't they? Where was the give and take in their relationship? Today was her birthday, damn it. But would he remember? No freaking way! The dynamic head of Big Hit Pty. Ltd.; couldn't be expected to remember such trivia. He was far too busy running his exciting business. Heck, he hardly had time to come home anymore. She hadn't sighted him since Christmas, a full two months back. There would be no phone call. No card, let alone a present. Yet she'd shopped for hours to find him the right gift for his birthday last year. She'd even baked him a cake.

"Hyeonji" her mother called out through the bathroom door. "What's taking you so long in there? Your breakfast's been on the table for a full five minutes."

"Coming!!!" Breakfast that morning was a small glass of orange juice, one boiled egg, one thin slice of whole meal toast, one teaspoon of margarine and black coffee. A big improvement on the minute bowl of cereal Hyeonji usually ate. Ever since her father had died of a heart attack two years before her college graduation, her mother had been obsessed with health and dietary matters. Nothing passed their lips that exceeded the strict fat and calorie limits which were now Zil's culinary bible. This meant mealtimes held little joy for Hyeonji, who had a chronically sweet tooth. She found it all a bit trying, yet could not deny that her once plump curves had benefited from this change of eating habits. She dropped two dress sizes and would now not shrink from going to the beach –if she hadn't freckled like mad.

"Wow" she exclaimed as she sat down at the kitchen table. "This looks really good."

"Well it's your birthday, love" says your mom. "I'm going to cook you a special dinner tonight as well." Hyeonji could not help wondering what a "special" dinner constituted these days. She'd bet it wasn't bake pork with crackling and crispy roast potatoes, followed by a big chocolate cake and coffee with cream in it. "That'll be nice, Ma," she said, and picked up her knife, ready to attack the boiled egg. "Aren't you going to open your card?" your mom asked plaintively.

Hyeonji could have kicked herself. She put down her knife and picked up the long white envelope propped against the fruit bowl. Inside was a sweetly sentimental card and a couple of lottery tickets which promised first prize of half a million dollars. "I'm sorry, I couldn't afford more," her mother said apologetically. Hyeonji glanced up with a bright smile. "Don't be silly. This is great. I might fortune and then we could both go on a trip around the world."

"Oh I wouldn't want to do that. I like my home too much. But you could go, I suppose," she added hesitantly. Hyeonji could see that this idea did not sit well with her mother. Perhaps she was already regretting giving her daughter the chance, however slim, of becoming rich and possibly flying the nest. Kang Zil was a naturally shy woman, who'd become even more reserved and reclusive since her husband's death. She rarely left the house except to go shopping, and that was only down to the mall local shopping center which also house the library branch where Hyeonji worked. She had no close friends and loved for her house, her garden and her daughter. Once in a while, Hyeonji found her mother's dependence on her stifling. But on the whole she accepted her fate without undue distress. She was, after all, her mother's daughter, which meant she was a quiet, undemanding girl with few unsettling yearnings.

The only yearning which could disturb her dreams as well as her equilibrium was Jung Hoseok. Even then, she'd learned to control her unrequited passion for him. Clearly, he'd never guessed what smoldered behind her cool brown eyes whenever they looked upon his handsome face.

And he never would...

Chapter 02

Masterlist

[lilymcili]

KO x DENDY

TKO x DENDY

I need a fanfic of this. When they are teens. And like... UHM IM SORRY. I JUST FINISHED WATCHING OK KO AND I JUST WANNA SAY HOW MUCH I LOVED THIS SERIES AND I FEEL LIKE THESES TWO SHIPS ( even though tko and ko are now the same person... ) ARE ADORABLE AND I NEED A GOOD FANFIC ABOUT THEM PLEAAAAASE.

I just... I... O^O I love em. Pls help..,

[bonjovian]

Overwatch: Uprising (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/mpJzUYSH8U Overwatch was illegally called back into action to fight a resurgence of Omnics, but new heroes needed to be recruited, and it seemed anyone was acceptable. Keira Ryan was one of those new recruits. She didn't have the cleanest past. She and her parents fled Cork Country, Ireland, for unknown reasons, settling into Junkertown, Australia. There sh…

[helbramstrauma-main]

The Morning After

Masterlist

Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Modern Era: Casual panic of sleeping with your best friend and other shenanigans

Word Count: 1288

You are not supposed to sleep with your best friend, it is against the rules. But here we are in the same bed after a fuzzy night, with the new day's sun shining through the window causing a sharp pain to take over my head. Once I regain an amount of consciousness the situation dwells on me even more. Race's arms are wrapped around me loosely as he is still fast asleep.

No one prepares you for what you should do next. No matter how many times you say it, your friendship will never go back to the way it was, but then another thought crosses my mind. A dangerous thought. Do I even want to go back to how things were? I can barely even think let alone answer these questions, but there is no time to think about it. Our entire friendship is on the line.

As I go to sit up I feel Race's arms tighten around my body trapping me in his grasp again. There is no way I will be able to get up if he is still asleep. I shut my eyes for only a moment to enjoy the last few seconds of Race's warm embrace around my frame, knowing that once I wake him up he will freak out, just as I did. Exhaling deeply I rub just below his collarbone, whispering wakes up slightly. His eyes flutter open then squeeze shut as they attempt to adapt to the sudden brightness in the room.

When he opens them again he stares at me with a smile masking his true feelings behind it. Masking the worry that I am feeling, but as such, I also fake a smile. Even so, he only loosens his grip around my body not fully letting go. I move away from his chest so there is room between us, and I see a small frown appear on Race's face before returning to his forced grin.

I don't know what to do next, this is something I never prepared for, and I am certainly not in the state of mind to be making these decisions. Should I come out and speak the obvious or pretend like it never happened? After a quick debate, I chose the latter of the two as I begin to talk about my dream of backpacking through Europe. Something that I can still remember the details of despite my change of mind. Avoiding the inevitable conversations as I am scared of the outcome.

Part of me wants everything to just go back to normal, to have my best friend back. However, a different part of me is screaming that this is the start of something new, maybe we were never meant to just be friends. Race is everything I have ever wanted in a partner but at the same time, he is my best friend. You are not meant to sleep with your best friend. Friends with benefits always end up in heartbreak, someone else is always wanting something more while the other wants nothing else out of it. I am in uncharted and dangerous territory so if I ignore it enough it will go away.

As much as I talk about Europe the reality is, I cannot erase the events of last night, even if I don't necessarily want to. "Unfortunately I will not be able to walk to Iceland, as the ocean is in the way. However, Reykjavik's architecture is a must-see" I begin to ramble even more. I can see Race's expression shift from every emotion under the sun, but if I ignore it, it is not happening. If I ignore it, we never slept together.

While I am in the middle of talking about the London Tombs Race speaks for the first time, "Are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room?" A sigh leaves my mouth knowing that my blissful ignorance of the situation must come to an end. I turn over on my back, breaking the grip he has been holding for the entire time.

This conversation will change everything, even if we decide to go back to "normal". It is impossible because you are never meant to sleep with your best friend. "Things can't go back to how they used to be. The real question is how to move on" I state staring at the popcorn ceiling in Race's apartment.

I feel Race shift on his side of the bed before speaking up, "Do you really just want to move on from this? We should at least talk about last night". Race and I are on completely different pages, all I want to know is how we fix this. Not how it happened. Either way, Race continues his line of thought, "I mean something pulled us together. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it wasn't what do you think?"

I do not think last night was a mistake, but on the same coin, it also should never have happened. He is my best friend, and best friends are not meant to sleep together. It is going to be impossible to continue how we were, but maybe we should think in a different direction. In these situations one person is too eager while the other one wishes this would not have happened, I cannot be the one to ruin this. At the same time, I cannot go on with this friendship knowing what it is like to have what I have always yearned for. Thinking about his question, even more, I still don't think it was a mistake but it also isn't a fairytale either. I eventually croak out, "I don't think this was meant to happen. I don't regret it though, as long as you don't either".

I feel a familiar warmth entangle itself into my hand, as Race begins to run circles around my thumb. My gaze leaves the ceiling to look over at Race to meet his icy blue eyes, with a small smile creeping up his face. His voice is low and soothing as he begins to speak, "I don't regret this," but as he goes on his voice becomes shakier than before, "I have been thinking about this since before last night. Of course, I wish things would have played out differently but I want this".

His palm in mine is beginning to sweat, and his eyes are pleading for a response. I have never seen Race this nervous, he can be so charismatic in the most outrageous of situations, but here he is stumbling over his words. The thing is he doesn't have to be, the fears I have slip away as I see the feeling is mutual. I flash a small smile, causing Race to imitate it, as I begin to talk, "I want to see where this goes, where it will take us". Race's arms resume their position around my frame rolling me on my side closer to him.

"I'm terrified of what will happen next, but I want to see where this will go too," Race says, "Do you maybe want to go on a date right now?" Laughter fills the once tense room as Race cracks his normal jokes. Maybe things won't be so different after all.

I roll out of bed to notice I am in one of Race's graphic-tees, and I see a smirk on Race's face as he sees me too. Grabbing my skinny jeans from across the room, I tuck in his shirt slightly and strike and overly exaggerated pose, cause Race to laugh.

Never in a million years did I expect this to end with us getting breakfast at an IHOP. Though I am terrified, I am thrilled to see where this will go.

[helbramstrauma-main]

Forbidden

Masterlist

Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Canon Era: This is like Romeo and Juliet if no one died and it focused on exclusively Classism. 

Word Count: 1269

Like every Thursday, today is no different, I am opening my bedroom window and quietly exiting through the fire escape. If my parents ever knew I was going to be visiting a newsboy I would not be allowed out of their sight. Luckily for me, they do not know and I can escape for a bit without causing any suspicion. Getting a little too cocky I accidentally rip my dress on the way down, a small piece of the skirt tore off on the bottom rung of the ladder. I silently curse to myself knowing that would not have happened if I went down slower, but I continue my journey to the deli.

Racetrack Higgins and I have been visiting each other semi-regularly when my family went to Sheepshead to do a quality inspection. He caught my eye and he stole quick and secret conversations from me throughout the night. Now every Thursday I meet him at Jacobi's diner which is a few blocks down from where I live. No one expects me to be in lower Manhattan so no one is looking for me, it is perfect for our taboo meetings. Of course, nothing funny happens, it is just out of character for a girl of my class to be friends with a newsie. Therefore, all of our meetings must be held in the shadows away from my family's estate.

I make it to our meeting spot, the alleyway behind Jacobi's as I wait for Race to make his appearance. Eventually, I see a figure walking towards me wearing his signature blue plaid shirt, tucked into his pants, that is three sizes too large and are only being held up by his worn-out suspenders. Also sporting his staple smirk as he approaches me, arms wide, ready to embrace me into his warm hug. As tradition has it I lean into a hug, count to three, and let go.

Something about how forbidden Race his just makes him lure me in. The first day we meant I was not to talk to any of our patrons, but there he was, stealing me away just to have a conversation. Sneaking around so my family does not find out only adds to the excitement of our relationship. I am relishing in it, and even that is forbidden. When it all adds up, of course, I am pining over him. Just the forbidden aspect alone is enough to draw me in, but it also doesn't help that he is ever so kind. Genuinely.  

People often put on a face to impress me, to use me, but with Race, it is remarkably pure. Even if my family's assets would benefit him greatly, he never once will ask me to use them. Although he does not use me for my wealth I always attempt to give him some. Which he usually denies, so I have to get creative. I often will pay for a meal, or give him new shoelaces- but he will never accept something in cash.

Never the less, after he lets go of my frame he looks down and notices a small piece of my outer skirt missing. His lopsided grin immediately turns into a frown as he can already piece together what is happening.  Reaching up to his own face he pulls the cigar out of his mouth before putting it out at the bottom of his shoe before he begins to speak, "you should not be sneaking around".

I can't help but let out a chuckle at his hypocriticism, our entire friendship is based on sneaking around. As I chuckle Race tilts his head to the side, letting a few blonde curls loose from under his hat. His lips perk up ever so slightly letting me know that I need to elaborate. "It is just our whole relationship is based on sneaking around. This dress was getting old anyway" I say without thinking and tucking a loose hair behind my ear. How could I be so insensitive, my comment must only emphasize how we are different.

Class cannot separate us, even if classism runs rampant through the city, I won't let it separate us. However, the look that covers Race's face makes me believe that he thinks the contrary. Race's eyes glaze over with a watery coat as he begins to speak, even though he doesn't dare to let a tear escape, "you have too much to lose. Messing around with me only will hurt us".

All I can think about is how to reason with him. How do I let him know that I do not care what I will lose? Society cannot drive us apart, when I am around him it is like the pressure on me to uphold my family name dissipates. However, all I can think of is how our situation, is not uncommon, even if we feel like we are the only people to ever do something like this. Everybody risks things, everybody does something that they know they shouldn't do. All I can muster up to say is, "Like you haven't done anything that society doesn't approve of," I begin, "Where did you get that cigar?" I ask, already knowing that he stole it.

My reasoning does not seem to reach him though, all he does is take a deep swallow, the watery glaze threatening to spill out. Race pushes though as he talks in a low tone, "You should not be like me. This should not be happening. I don't want to lose you as a friend, but the longer we prolonge the end the more it will hurt once we get there".

I know I am not going to be able to handle losing Race at all, let alone now. He is my only outlet in which people do not expect me to be proper, without him I am just another person in upper society. There should not even need to be a separation, it is clear that people outside of my class can make such a big impression on me, why does there need to be a differentiation. Why is my relationship with Race taboo? I cannot lose him as at this point he has become a part of me.

I take a step towards him making him look at me, I notice a small tear roll down his oily cheek as we just stare at each other. He is clearly waiting for a response but I don't know what to say. All words are leaving my brain, as I am barely able to grasp what is happening. All I know is that I cannot lose Race. However, his eyes plead for a response that I cannot give him. Instead, I reach up to around his neck and pull him closer to me. He is a little taken aback at first but quickly adapts to the sudden closeness. Before I can get rid of the small amount of air between us, Race connects our lips before I can.

Our lips move together like we are one being, my brain can only comprehend him. The rest of the world fades as he is the only thing I can think about and feel. At some point, it is like I am not even touching the ground. However, reality sinks back in as we disconnect.

As I take a small step back to look at him I see his lopsided grin take over him face, and that is when I knew everything will work out. No matter is society says this is forbidden, as long as I have Race I know I won't need society's approval.

[helbramstrauma-main]

Not Worth It

Masterlist

Albert DaSilva x Reader

Modern Era

Word Count: 687

The credits of the movie are going but Albert and you show no interest in moving from this exact spot. Our legs are tangled together with a blanket clumsily thrown over them, and your head is bobbing up and down with the rising and falling of Albert’s chest. The more you focus on his heartbeat the less of the commotion I can hear from the other rooms. Albert lives with a handful of his friends and it is usually amazing, but sometimes in moments like these, we wish we are alone. Even with your zoned in mind on Albert's heartbeat sometimes the reality of the situation cannot help but slip in. 

A slew of incomprehensible words screamed at a high volume makes its way through the thin walls of the apartment. Race is obviously upset about something but we both remain stagnant hoping the moment will pass soon enough, and it does. This time, however, it is replaced by missing leftovers. Romeo's missing leftovers is going to be the next Sherlock episode based on how vocal everyone is because of it.

A shift in your position is brought up by Albert moving to presumably get up. The warmth we once shared is fleeting and I am not about to let the moment end because of some leftovers.

"Come on, they'll figure it out," you say grabbing on to his arm that was about to remove the blanket.

He starts to lay back down, moving the arm you once held around your frame. Soon enough we are in a different position with our bodies laying on their side, and our limbs tangling together. Both of your hands are on either side of Albert's head twirling the ends of his ginger hair around your fingertips. This would be an easy position to just ease into sleep if the loud arguing in the kitchen would have stopped. You can feel Albert start to shift again but he does not get up, he only moves the blanket over our heads.

"Maybe this will help block out the sound more," Albert says, in a groggy voice, obviously wanting to sleep as much as you do.

You could not help but let out a low chuckle to his response.

Once we resituate ourselves, so our heads are no longer covered by a blanket you hear someone walk through the living room towards the kitchen. The arguing as since dialed down but as shifted to a Davey talks about philosophy and Race challenges all of his ideas. These arguments are always in good fun and are quite entertaining to watch, however, right now all you want to do is cuddle in silence. For a while, you can blissfully ignore the bickering happening in the other room, but over time it is undeniable.

You are determined to ignore this fight out of existence. Your head begins to nuzzle its way under Albert's chin to find a new warmth. This boy is a space heater. Even so, just because we are cuddling does not mean the world stops.

Acceptance is the last stage of grief and is also the last conclusion you come to. Removing your head from the nook of Albert's neck I begin to lean in as he does the same. My ease shut as the closeness between us is unbearable. The sound of glass shattering takes over the room and my eyes shoot open and you push yourself away from Albert as a reflex. This causes you to fall off the couch on to the hardwood floors, which also causes Albert to fall into a pit of laughter.

You finally cave in and stand up, Albert follows suit and you guys make your way into the kitchen. The silence you were once yearning for as arrived but in the worst way possible. All of the boys are just looking at each other and then glancing at the once whole bowl, which now is in a little less than a million pieces.  

Within all of this silence, all that happens is Albert, leans over and whispers, "Thank you for not letting me get involved".

[helbramstrauma-main]

Ice Cream Parlor

Masterlist

Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Modern Era: A little self sacrifice in the desperate attempt to get someone to notice me.

Word Count: 988

How it all started is a blur to me now, all I know is that I stop at the local ice cream shop once a week. Originally I was dragged into the establishment by a group of friends who were craving the frozen treat. It was a smoldering summer day so staying the car was not an option, thus I had to go in. I waited in line with the rest of my group even though I did not intend to buy ice cream, but something changed my mind.

Once the line in front of me began to disappear my eyes met with his. His light blue orbs are so inviting that I could not get out of line now. From then on out my order was soft serve cookies and cream. Don't get me wrong I love ice cream and all things dairy is, it is just my body does not like me. Of course, it is not the end of the world that I can't have dairy, plenty of people are lactose intolerant, but most of them don't eat ice cream regularly to get the attention of a boy.

Antonio works every Saturday, so every Saturday I get ice cream. Every Saturday we will have a short conversation, and every week I look forward to it. His eyes always seem to light up when I walk through the doors, and he always brushes his striped apron down, as I approach his register. Just like today.

"How's my favorite customer doing?" the boy beams at me, already approaching the cookies and cream. His smile is from ear to ear, as he stares at me awaiting my response.

A light blush appears across my face, that I tell myself is the result of the chilliness of the room. "Just dandy, how about yourself," I ask attempting to keep the conversation going, while also internally scolding myself for saying dandy. What is this? the 1940's?

Antonio rests his arms on the top of the glass, as he gazes at me. He bits his bottom lip and his eyes shift from side to side as if he is debating something before he speaks, "A little better now that I see you. Do you want the regular?". The lopsided smile he was previously sporting turns into a playful smirk.

Being as flustered as I am at his sudden flirtiness I simply nod, knowing I would have stumbled over my words if I attempted a response. Once I get my ice cream I leave and say goodbye, like always.

Interactions like these are normal, they have been happening for about a month now. And every time I still don't know what to say after he flirts.  Every single time he leaves me flabbergasted, grasping for words that simply will not come. The butterflies in my stomach amplify when he is around, swirling making me slightly nauseous. Nowhere near as nauseous that dairy makes me, but still. When I am around Antonio time seems to go slower, and it is a feeling that I simply cannot explain even if I tried.

Never the less, another Saturday as come, and so does my weekly visit. No one else is in the shop other than Antonio and me. I wrap my flannel closer around me as the cold air bites my skin as I approach the grinning boy. His eyes just as bright as the first time I saw him.

"Hi, Y/n. The regular?" the boy asks me as he begins to make his way over to the selection of ice cream. However, I see a small sign sticking out of some tan-colored ice cream, that reads Dairy-Free, and I am ecstatic. To the point where I jump up and down slightly, causing Antonio to giggle from across the counter. "See something you like?" the boy wiggles his eyes brows, insinuating something else, causing me to blush and burst out with laughter.

Once my laughter subsides I begin to speak, "Yeah actually, I would like to have some of the Dairy-Free caramel ice cream," I take a breath in and without thinking say, "I am lactose intolerant".

At first, everything is normal and Antonio gets a scoop of it and puts it in one of their recyclable cups. However, while he is one his way back to give me my purchase he stops dead in his tracks. "If you can't have dairy, why do you come here so often?"He questions.

Why did I say that? I have no idea what I can say other than the truth. How would that even sound? Like "oh yeah, I just came here regularly to see if you would notice me," that would make me sound completely sane, not like a stalker at all. Despite the temperature in the room, I can feel my body heat rising as I cannot find a reasonable lie. The only thing I can say is the truth. "I just enjoy your company" I mumble to the ground.

When I look up I can see a huge, lopsided grin painted across Antonio's face. He places the small cardboard-like bowl down before leaning over the counter, resting his weight on his elbows, "You really just came here to see me? Why didn't you just say so?".

The answer is because I am a nervous wreck and I cannot vocalize my opinions, but what I say is, "This was easier".

I can already tell my face is so red, and it will be a miracle if I can respond in semi-understandable sentences. "Th-that would be great Antonio" I manage to say.

A low chuckle leaves Antonio's lips as he reaches down and grabs a sharpie, and he scribbles something down on my napkin. "I'll tell you what: we can get to know each other better somewhere else. Literally anywhere else. How does that sound?". the napkin falls a little bit when I realize that he wrote down his number on my napkin.

"Oh, please call me Racetrack".

[helbramstrauma-main]

New Roommate

Masterlist

Crutchie Morris x Reader

Modern Era: This is based off of this post

Just a fun fact about me, I work at an animal shelter and this is based off of a real dog, which now has a home. Love you Stormy!

Word Count: 551

Being an ER nurse you see a lot of things, and nothing is better than getting home and taking a nap on a couch after working close to a 24-hour shift. The sofa in the living room is often victim to my after-work siestas, and there is even a permanent indent that outlines my body. I move the throw pillows at the corner of the couch down and make myself comfortable. Once my body hits the sofa I am already drifting off to sleep.

Two hours pass before Crutchie gets home from work. The creaking of our apartment door does not disturb my sleep, I have learned to sleep through worse. However, a new sensation does bribe me to open my eyes.

My vision is blurry at first, the only thing I can make out is a blob with two eyes staring at me. Blinking a few more times I see a dog sitting in front of me, with a grinning Crutchie just behind him. Did he just adopt a dog? What other explanation is there?

"Surprise!" Crutchie explains, "It made eye contact with me through the window. I just could not say no to him". He reasons poorly. Can we even have a dog in our apartment? We also have no supplies for one, this is all so sudden. I look into the dog's eyes to notice they are different colors and my heart melts a little. If I am not the responsible one, no one else will be, we cannot have this dog.

"Did you tell the landlord?" I ask, praying that we do not get evicted.

Crutchie turns red and then turns around to walk out of the room. Through the walls, I can hear him asking for permission to get a dog. Why do I love this idiot? "Yes" is all he says when he takes his place on the chair across from me.

I internalize my laugh still attempting to reason with him, and myself that we cannot have a dog. Then the dog rests its front paws on the sofa in front of me, and only then do I notice it is missing its back paw. How do I say no to this dog? I get it now.

For the first time, I reach down and pet the top of the hounds head, scratching just behind the ear. Its tail begins to wag vigorously behind it, hitting the leg of the coffee table multiple times. A smile begins to spread across my face as I let out a laugh.

"Do it have a name?" I ask Crutchie, finally caving in.

"Her name is Stormy," Crutchie explains, "She had a name tag on when they found her, but when they called the phone number, the family had moved across the country". Why is everything about this dog so sullen? First, it does not have a hind leg and now I learn that it is abandoned! It would be cruel to not adopt her.I grab behind both of her ears and look the dog in the eyes before saying, "Hi Stormy, welcome home". Then looking up at Crutchie I say, "We should go get some supplies for her".

This makes Crutchie do a lopsided jog over to the kitchen to then hold up some plastic bags, "I went a little crazy at Petsmart" he admits.

[helbramstrauma-main]

Rain Check

Masterlist

Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Modern Era

Word Count: 1309

I am been counting down the days for this trip since the day we planned it two weeks ago. Kathrine's childhood summer camp is now open to the public and she rented a cabin for the lot of us before anyone could disagree. Now the day has come and my ride is about an hour late, in classic Racetrack fashion.

We have been friends since Freshman year and practically inseparable since, however, recently things have taken a different turn. A good turn. About a month ago we went on our first date, and a week after that our second. Nothing is official yet, we are just testing the water- to see if something is truly there. Our friends do not even know about it, this is just between us until there is a thing worth mentioning. However, every time I see Davey my immediate reaction is to tell him everything, but we agreed to meet in secret and not whisper a word to anybody. I am not sure where we stand though, because or the third date ended in a weird place.

He was walking me back out to my car after dinner when we started in an inch closer to each other. I was fully pinned against the car and my hands were resting on his neck pulling Race closer. The thing that followed afterward was barely a kiss, his lips simply ghosted over mine. He jolted back as soon as my car alarm went off, and we have not talked about it since. However, him offering to carpool to the camp has to say something.

Eventually, I see Race's 2001 Saturn turn into my driveway and his goofy lopsided grin showing. Amazing how he can be so unphased by his horrific skills to keep track of time. I wonder if he is still thinking about that night like I am. Or if he even wants to see me again.

Either way, he gets out of his car and walks towards me and my bags. He trips a little bit as he ignores the lip of the sidewalk up to my house, but he recovers in a few more steps. Once he reaches me I can tell that he put on cologne, it is not overpowering but it is definitely present. When he pulls me into a tight hug, I cannot help but smell him a little more. It is certainly a good smell. Race loosens his grip around my waist, but not fully letting go, "are you ready to hit the road?"

"As ready as I will ever be" I answer picking up my backpack, as Racetrack carries my duffle bag over to the car.

With the addition of my stuff, the trunk is full. When leaving the driveway, Race does not give me enough time before he swerves out, almost hitting some of our landscaping. This is just the first thing in our journey of almost having to pay property damage, and certainly breaking all the rules to driving. In the beginning, we would talk over some music playing at a low volume. It was obvious that we are both trying to avoid the topic of that night, and frankly every night prior to that. At some point we were so desperate we started talking about our favorite breed of bird.

Sometime in the second hour we ditched all forms of communication and just blasted the radio. It was just something we were doing at first to avoid the conversation we need to have, but it turned into screaming all the lyrics to songs you don't know the lyrics to. Who knew you could have so much fun avoiding an imminent discussion that both parties are attempting to ignore.

"I think you took the wrong exit, I say as we are soon greeted by tall buildings instead of a forest.

Race chuckles before responding, "what makes you say that?"

We stop by a local shop and I buy some snacks as Race asks for directions to the campsite. He is writing down the instructions on the back of an old recipe as the man behind the counter gives him directions. His curly hair getting in his face with him occasionally brushing a strand away. While I not so subtly stare at him my feelings rush out like a waterfall. I do not just want to be friends with Racetrack, I wish my car alarm did not go off that night. Unfortunately, this realization will certainly make this whole trip plenty harder.

When Race returns to be he places my hand on the small of my back, guiding me out of the store. I can feel the blood rush to my cheeks, it is impossible to miss my face is certainly red. "Let's get going" Race whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

Unfortunately, the rest of the trip was way less intimate, that being said, it certainly did not stop me from running the scenario over and over through my head. Every time he would shift in his seat I thought he would grab my hand, that is resting on the center console, and every time I realize how much I wish he would grab it.  

To me it feels like the tension in the car could be cut with a knife, but I have no idea what he is feeling. All I need to do is ask him where we stand but that seems to be the most impossible thing to do right now.

I stare out the windshield trying my best to think of anything else than the boy sitting in the driver's seat. Small water droplets begin to dot across the windshield, and dark storm clouds begin to cover the blue sky.

By the time we pull up to the campsite it is pouring, and it does not look like it is going to let up anytime soon. Plus it is a three-mile hike to our cabin, so we are planning on just waiting for it to slow down. We sit in silence with the only sound being the pitter-patter of the rain hitting the car.

"I think we should talk about, well," Race starts to trail off.

I take a deep breath in, knowing that there is no going back now, "us"

Racetrack's arms are in between his legs as he fiddles with his thumbs, "Yeah". At last, he stops looking down and he stares at me with his eyes the softest I have ever seen them. A long-awaited hand is placed in mine giving it a squeeze, and I return it. "I want to go for it. With you, that is, like romantically" Race trips over his own words.

Relief washes over my body as I realize things are going to be okay, things are going to be perfect. I do not know how to put what I am feeling into words so all I do is finish what we started that night. I start to lean over the center console and I see him doing the same thing, but before the long-awaited kiss, he stops by pressing our foreheads again.  

"Are you sure you want this?" Race asks staring at me with his blue eyes. I glance down at his lips briefly before nodding.

I ease my eyes shut and before I know it I feel the lips that once ghosted over mine. The moment is sweet yet hungry as if we are making up for the lost time. At this moment it is just Race and me, nobody else in the world matters. When our lips part it is only briefly for I feel his arms wrap around me pulling me closer.

Before we know it, the rain clears up but we have no intention of moving.

"Let's just stay here for the night," I say. I get a quick nod from Race before returning to our prior position.  

[helbramstrauma-main]

Lost and Found

Masterlist

Jack Kelly X Reader

Modern Era Highschool AU

Word Count: 1130

No matter the logic behind it, no one can tell me that time does not slow down just for Chemistry. It seems like the teacher can ramble forever when in reality only a couple of minutes have passed. People say that when you stare at the clock time goes by slower but it goes by just as slow no matter where I look. I peel my eyes away from the clock to copy down the new notes the teacher has written on the board. However, my attention quickly shifts away to turn myself around. People say you can feel when someone is staring at you but when I turn around I only see a boy scribbling something in his notebook.

Jack Kelly is in a lot of my classes and I can always rely on him for subpar notes when I am absent. I usually settle for them because that way I get most of my notes from one person. Other than our occasional trading of notes we never interact, he is just another face in the school of faceless people. To me at least.  You can usually find me at school funded events working the concession stand or running the school store- classic College application activities. Jack, on the other hand, is often at school funded events but in the stands or is only at the school store to buy supplies. Two completely different worlds.

Eventually, I bring myself to look back at the analog clock to see that only three minutes have passed. People say time cannot slow down, tell that to the time paradox that is Chemistry class. After the alleged forty minutes have passed the bell rings throughout the school allowing the class to have an audible sigh of relief.

The rest of the school day goes by not affected by the time paradox and eventually the final bell rings letting a slew of my fellow classmates out for the weekend. However, most of them will be back for the home game tonight. Let's make one thing clear, our football team is not good, nor does our school have an excess of school spirit, it is just something to do in our small town. Unfortunately for me, that means working the concession stand, more importantly, that means I do not leave the school. Technically I have two hours of downtime before I have to start setting up the concession stand I would rather spend the two hours locked in a classroom finishing my school work and snaking than going home. At least here I get the full two hours alone, and uninterrupted, but if I were to go home I would only have about an hour and a half and that time would probably be full of distractions. From rowdy siblings to need to fix the sink, or making dinner, it is just easier to do my work here.

I am sitting in the side room off the principles office, which is often used as a waiting room for students who have been sent down to see Doctor Cavanough. Most people are terrified of him, but once you get to know him, he is not that bad, we are even on dropping the title terms! I can just call him Cavanough, a right reserved for me and a handful of other people. Another benefit of our relationship is that he lets me do my work in his side room. Most of the time he will not bother me, but that is not today. Cavanough comes in with his suit jacket not fully on and visible beads of sweat as if he has just finished a marathon. He always stresses sweats on home game days, not only is he responsible for Jeffersons Public High School, but he is also responsible for whomever the visiting team is. I always try to take off whatever stress I can as he should retire but he will probably die in his position. My task today is to go through the lost and found bin. I do not even know what that means, other than to look through some hoodies to make sure there are not any drugs.

I take my time going across the school so I can go through the bins, we keep the lost and found in the back room at the library. It is a small room that makes the most desperate people decide that their stuff is not worth spending more than a few minutes in there. However, I will be spending an undisclosed amount of time in this room, and needless to say, I am not looking forward to it. That being said I did not waste any time getting started either, my hands were practically already in a hoodie since the moment I walked in. After I sifted through the first bin I decided to look into the miscellaneous bin. The bin most known for holding the biggest mystery of the school, for instance, how someone only lost one shoe, or when was it acceptable for someone to bring in knock-off fine china, and somethings that I am almost certain are trash. An open bag of Uncle Ben's rice has lined the bottom of the bin.

At some point, I move a skateboard that someone had lost to see a notebook. A familiar notebook, but it is not mine. However, it is something I have definitely seen before, letting my curiosity take over me I open the book to the first page to see the initials JK. The realization hits me eventually as I notice the handwriting I have to decipher every time I miss a day of school. This notebook belongs to nobody else but Jack Kelly. Not wanting to get back to sifting through hoodies right away I begin to page through his notes. Often seeing little doodles on the side of his page that keep me entertained. I know I should not be going through his notebook but I cannot seem to stop myself once I have started. Eventually, I get to a page that contains no notes but instead is a portrait, the face does not look like him at all. He could not of come up with this person on his own, it is definitely a real-life person and I am determined to find out who.  

I stare at the well-drawn image until I notice a birthmark just under the person's nose. My hand immediately goes up to touch my own identical birthmark. Everything hits at once, the person is me. I turn the page again to see tons of fake dialogue of him asking someone out. It does not take much to put two and two together, he has a crush on me. My brain immediately does that thing where when anyone shows me any sort of attention I think I am in love with them. Although I am not completely sure about who Jack Kelly is as a person I am not opposed to getting to know him.

I grab a pen from the lost and found bin and write my number on the next blank page of his notebook.

You're a really good artist, 555-555-5555 - Y/N Y/L/N

It is not long after I returned his notebook that I get a text message from an unknown number.

Art is easy when you have a good subject - JK

[helbramstrauma-main]

Thunderstorms

Masterlist

Albert DaSilva x Reader

Canon Era

Word Count: 1084

I owe a lot to the bakery, not only does it help me put food on the table, it introduced me to Albert DaSilva. In the beginning, he was just the cocky newsboy on the street corner, always teasing me as I walked by. However, as time went on he became a part of my life that I cannot see myself living without. Against his protest, I would always bring him the stale pastries that we could not sell anymore. The look on his face every time I give him a fresh loaf of bread makes it worth the reprimand I will get afterward.

Albert has introduced me to so many new people and genuinely makes my life interesting. Just because we do not have a lot of money to spend, does not mean our dates are any less fun. From a walk-in central park or sneaking into a picture show we always have a good time. Even though our date nights are pleasant I always prefer our daily traditions, like him always visiting me when he takes his lunch break. No matter how many times I tell him not to he will sit on the counter and talk to me like that, it is like Albert does not even know what a chair is. As much as I love talking to him, nothing compares to the looks we steal from each other through the large window at the front of the shop. He moved street corners just so we could look at each other throughout the day. That is my favorite thing about us, even though we are not talking, we can always silently communicate.

Today is like every other beautiful day, except the sky is filled with dark clouds. Even such that does not shake the bright demeanor of Albert, he is enthusiastically selling his papers, as I watch him through the window. Business is slow today so I can devote my time to just watching Albert scream a made-up headline. He is swinging around a lamp post as I see the first raindrop hit the ginormous window. At first, I don't think much of it, but as more and more hit the window at a rapid rate I begin to think about Albert. He is going to catch a cold if he stays out there in this weather.

Seeing that the street is rather empty I leave the store and venture across the street. Albert sees me approaching and I can already see his rebuttal in his eyes, but I still persist. The rain is only getting heavier and I can already tell that I am going to be drenched if I do not go back into the bakery soon. That being said, I have also decided I am not going back in unless Albert is to follow me.

Once I make it to Albert I give him a quick peck on the cheek before talking, "Why don't you come inside until the rain slows down". I look up at him with a stern but hopefully eyes, but the look I receive back lets me know that I am up for a debate.

He takes a deep breath and looks down at me, "I'll be okay, the quicker I sell my papers the quicker we get to go on our date," he gives me a grin before continuing, "go back inside before you catch a cold".

I look down briefly and shake my head at my shoes. When I look up at Albert I can see a small frown on his face, he is also giving me puppy-dog eyes begging me to go back inside. However I resist his silent plea and begin to refute him again, "You'll get a cold too! I am not going back in until give in". The rain begins to hit harder as it becomes more violent, my hair is drenched, and I can start to feel my shoes fill up with water. Never the less, I am not going inside without Albert.

Albert opens his mouth to say something but a crack of thunder echos throughout the New York City streets. As soon as I hear the thunder I wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his shoulder. His arm wraps around me pulling me closer to his soaked body. I cannot tell if I am shaking because of the chills, or if my fear of thunderstorms is making me shake. Either way, I feel like I am going to cry, and I want to run away but at the same time, I am stagnant, afraid to move.

Albert must have picked up on this as I suddenly feel my feet leave the ground and his arms under me, carrying me back to the bakery. In my ear, I hear him whisper, "You are going to be okay. I'll stay with you". My eyes are violently closed as I let out a silent cry.

Not soon afterward I hear a familiar bell and the rain muffled. Albert carries me behind the counter before leaning me against it and sitting next to me. Another wave of thunder vibrates the floor, again causing me to jump a little. A few quiet sobs leave my mouth as Albert attempts to calm me down, combing his fingers through my hair, and leaving little kisses atop my head.

As I begin to calm down the loudest struck of thunder startles me causing me to sob into Albert's shoulder. My body is shaking with fear while Albert begins to hum an unknown tune. My eyes ease open as I look up at Albert who is grinning but his eyes scream concern. As I stare into his eyes I can feel my body let go of its pressure.

Another whip of thunder takes over the room as I shut my quickly and slouch down. I feel Albert lay down pulling me with him as he holds me close. My head resting on his chest as he combs my hair slowly calming me down.

When another crack of thunder occurs, before I can ever react, Albert is already shushing me. "You will be okay, just listen to my heartbeat and it will be over before you know it," Albert calms me down, his voice soothing me. I eventually find his heartbeat and it is moving faster but the steadiness calms me down. The next time it thunders it is less profound. Albert still cradles me until it stops raining.

Where would I be without him?

[helbramstrauma-main]

A Common Flirt

Masterlist

Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Canon Era

People come in and out of the doors at Jacobi's but only one catches her interest. However will he return the favor?

Word Count: 967

Working nights at Jacobi's is always a wild card. Some nights it was a calm and quiet place, others it was rowdy and hectic. However something was certain no matter the night, someone will always flirt with you. As a waiter, it is a gold mine, but as a person it makes you feel morally ambiguous. It is mostly harmless, just banter- is what I tell myself every night before I go to sleep. 

Jacobi is taking a personal day today, so I have to open. He always gets there two hours before we open so the newsboys have a place to regroup. So I have to get there two hours early. He told me to have glasses of water-filled, so that is what I did for the first few minutes. Until I heard the bell ring signaling that the first customer was here. Peaking out from the kitchen I see a boy in worn-out, patched clothing and a cap, no debatably a newsie. He is followed in by another boy in similar clothing, his cap on backward. I grab two cups of water and begin to make my way towards them. They don't bother with the chairs and rather sit on the table. I place the cups of water beside them and begin to walk back to the kitchen.

They aren't going to tip me, so why should I talk to them? As if I spoke aloud I begin to hear a similar question. "Where's Jacobi, he at least acted like we were going to buy something else" one of them remark. I turn around on the balls of my feet to face them again.

The other boy is quick to reply, "yeah but Jacobi doesn't bless our eyes. It would be an honor to hear her speak" the boy with a cigar hanging out of his mouth says.

Usually, a comment like that would earn an empty flirty reply, but he isn't paying. It isn't right to flirt back. We stare at each other for a few seconds, his blue eyes are challenging me. "Consider yourself blessed," I say, completely mucking up. Usually, I would have come up with something better, but I shouldn't have even bothered in the first place. Before I turn around again I see the boy with a cigar hanging out if his mouth, turn to talk to his friend. The bell rings again, prompting me to go back to the kitchen to get more water. On my way back I hear footsteps follow me to the kitchen. Once I turn around I am met with the familiar eyes of the cigar-smoking patron.

The cigar he is smoking is cherry and it fills the small room. How can a newsboy afford a cherry-flavored cigar? However I am not complaining, the sent is inviting and it makes me feel at ease, even though I am in a small room with a stranger. He shuts the counter blinds so I cannot see the customers outside, is he going to kill me?

"This is staff only," is all I muster up to say. I am going to die, this is where I die. I begin to start spiraling out of control, but I try my best to maintain confidence on the outside.

The boy is still staring at me, studying me before he speaks again, "Has anyone ever told you, you are beautiful".

Taken aback I nervously start picking at the skin around my fingernails, "yeah, but it means more coming from you" I flirt. Usually, I flirt to get tips but now I am flirting because I want to. Even though the situation looks like the start of something terrible, I feel the safest in his presence. There is no reason I should, he is a stranger to me. I don't even know his name, but something about him is familiar, it is comforting. After a few more flirty exchanges he leaves and I begin to load up my tray with waters.

Once I enter the dining area again I see that cigar boy and his buddy have left. I shouldn't miss a customer, but I do. The rest of the newsies all try to flirt but I don't respond. I don't even talk for the rest of the day. Once another waiter comes in I tell them I feel ill and go home. Why is a common flirt giving me all of this trouble?

Something about our interaction was different, it made me feel special. He made me feel special. I always told myself I would not rely on a boy to keep me happy but I can't help it. Something about him just lifts me up, and I am determined to find him again.

Luckily I don't work tomorrow, giving me all the time to search for him. After an hour or two of searching my feet refuse to let me walk another step. The scolding sun has probably turned my skin all red at this point. As I start to head back home I hear the voice of the boy. He is yelling about some headline-making his voice easy to follow above the noisy New York street.

I can tell he is beyond this next corner, but as I turn it, I stop in my tracks. The boy from yesterday is kissing another girl's hand. He is smiling from ear to ear as he begins to spin her now. How could I of been so foolish, how did I think I was special? I can feel tears rush to my eyes and I try my best not to let them escape. How could I of fell off the tricks of a common flirt? I don't even know his name, but yet I thought we were special.

[helbramstrauma-main]

Slingshot Practice

Masterlist

Spot Conlon x Reader

Canon Era

A self defense lesson with a little kink in the middle.  

Word Count: 847

Spot as always been on me about how I need to be able to defend myself, usually, I can brush it off with my ability to run. However, today is different he is determined to teach me to use a slingshot. Out of all the weapons, I think wielding a slingshot is the least practical, you have to be a good distance away for it to even hurt. And if you are far enough away you should just run! My logic did not let him up though, he still leads me to the docks where he practices his skills. He only leaves my side to set up the bottles we will be using as targets.

Needless to say, I am not excited about learning. First of all, it burning outside, I can practically feel the skin fall off my body. On top of that, the heat only amplifies the fish smell throughout the docks. Everything about today makes me want to vomit, on top of having to work on a skill that I think is useless. That being said, I am always willing to make the sacrifice to see the rare smile on Spot's face, which has been present for most of the day. Even if I am not happy with the activity it is always a miracle to see Spot unapologetically happy and I am willing to do almost anything to make him joyful.

Spot saunters over to me with a handful of stones and his wooden slingshot in hand. He is smiling ear to ear which causes me to mirror his grin even though I want to die. Once he reaches me, he immediately starts to demonstrate how to hold the slingshot, but I only half pay attention as I do not know a way to hold a slingshot incorrectly. So when it was my turn to hold it I managed to find a way to mess it up none of the less. Spot lets out an audible groan as he can tell I am not listening to a word he says. It is like he can tell that I am looking at him move his lips but the only thing I can think about is bread.

Even though I am a difficult student Spot does not let this affect him, instead, he simply guides my hand around the slingshot while standing behind. Although the extra heat behind me is completely unwanted as it is currently as scornful as the Sahara Desert, it is nice to feel him. Spot is a secret romantic so any touch in public is few and far between so I have to appreciate them while they last. At last, he is satisfied with the positions of my hands and he then gives me the first stone. I let it slip through my fingers as it sours across the sky missing the glass cup completely and landing in the river. This happens with most of the stones until there are only a few left, I am now incredibly frustrated and it is showing on my face.

Spot attempts to calm me down but it only fuels my anger. If I can avoid conflict and run away from it, why must I master the world's most useless skill? I already know Spot's answer but it does not stop me from screaming at him. Being scornful with Spot is not right but I still do it anyway. He just wants me to be safe and deep down I know that I just wish that I was not so angry. The heat is not helping me either, I know this is just one of my episodes, and Spot knows it too, we know it will blow over but that does not mean that it is right. All of this goes through my head at once, and at some point, I stop screaming and I just break into a violent sob. I wish I could say this rarely happens, but it doesn't. I wish I could control my emotions but I can't.

In some last-ditch effort, I grab the final stone from Spot's hand and shoot it down toward the bottles. Only this time it hits something, a man to be precise. He turns around quickly and growls and all of my thoughts slip my mind and are replaced with one thing, run. My tears dry quickly as I look for a place to hide when I see a group of shipping containers below the bridge waiting to be docked. Spot and I exchange a quick look communicating that we are going to hide out there. That plan goes without a hitch and we are hiding out safely.

After a short period of silence Spot finally announces, "I think that is enough practice for today". Our laugh lingers in the air for a moment before I think of something to say.

"Ya think" is all I manage to say between our giggles.

Although Spot and I have our moments, it is moments like these that make them worth it. Moments like these that make us, us!

[helbramstrauma-main]

Birdies

Masterlist

Spot Conlon x Reader

Canon Era

Word Count: 1462

Being far away from the only family you know is rough. My brother is a Newsboy in Brooklyn while I spend most of my time in Manhattan hanging laundry for the wealthy elite who cannot be bothered to do it themselves. We live two completely different lives, he is barely getting a penny a paper and living on the streets, while I live in my own quarters in my client's house. When this opportunity presented itself to me I was hesitant at first, not wanting to leave my big brother. However, he eventually convinced me that I should take this opportunity and that we would still be able to see each other- even if we live in completely different boroughs.

As time went on his promise began to break and I would only see my brother maybe once a month. Although I live with the other live-in staff I have never felt so alone. I have no one to talk to and the only person I have trusted is slowly disappearing from my life. Laying awake every night wondering if an opportunity for a better life was worth losing the only family I had. On a night like most nights, I am doing just that as I see a figure walk by on the fire escape. Some would call me crazy, but I just had to investigate.

My feet touch the cold ground as I rub my eyes and begin my journey to the window. The floor making a silent creek as I take each step. I attempt to peer out the window by I only can see my own reflection in the glass. This prompts me to push open the window without even thinking of the consequences. My frail hands grab the bottom of the window frame, holding my body up as I look around on the fire escape. I spot the same tall figure that ran past my window not long ago staring at me.

It does not scare me, I sense a familiarness to the figure despite not being able to make out their facial figures. As they begin to walk over, the overexaggerated arm movements could only belong to my brother, Samuel.

"What are you doing here Samuel?" I ask as he has never seen me without me knowing about it first.

A quiet chuckle leaves the Samuel's mouth confirming my belief that it is him. My brother leans against the pole of the fire escape as he begins to talk, "Hello, to you too Y/n".

I slither my way out of the room, and I sit on the window sill with my feet barely dangling above the fire escape's floor. I speak softly scared that I might wake on the staff members next door, "Are you aware of the hour?".

Even though my eyes are not fully adapted I can see a small frown take over Samuel's face. I know I should be valuing out moments together more than I am, but I just wish he would have gone about it in a better way. Or at least when there is daylight left.  Either way, my brother begins to speak, "You have never been one to waste time, I guess," he takes a pause before continuing, "My friend needs a spy out here, a birdie, to keep an ear out for the Manhatten newsies. To keep him in the loop". Before I have a chance to say I am too busy, Samuel pipes up again, "It would give us more opportunities to see each other".

Although I am busy I could always go down to the market place in the morning to see what is happening at newsies square. I want to see Samuel more, and if this is what I have to do, then I have no choice but to do it. "I'm in"

The next few days are relatively uneventful until one Tuesday in July. One of the Manhatten newsboys who I have learned to be Jack Kelly is starting a strike against the publishers. Under the code, I am supposed to see a boy named Spot Conlon in Brooklyn if anything of this caliber is to appear. Other than that my brother will just stop by my window every night and I will just inform him of the normal gossip. However this is big, I am to report this to the self-proclaimed King of Brooklyn.

Knowing this I finish laundry prematurely and find someone else to cover me as I begin my trip to the docks of Brooklyn. Not long after I cross the bridge I find the Newsboy Lodging House nestled between some other buildings on the shorefront. I briskly walk in the door to see a couple of boys on the floor talking to one another. However, once I walk in their chatter stops and they look at me, whatever confidence I had is slowly drifting away as the boys stare at me, their eyes demanding a response for my attendance.

"I'm here to see Spot Conlon," I say meekly.

My answer earns an outburst of laughter, once they get themselves together one of the boys says this, "You can't just waltz in here and expect to see Spot".

"I have information on Manhatten, there striking- something he should know about" I compensate for my lack of confidence through sass so I do not sound as meek as I did before. This response changes the tone in the room completely as one of the boys leads me up a small staircase to see Spot, the king of Brooklyn.

Once the boy opens a door into a small room, I see a boy a little taller than me with blonde hair peeking out of his newsies cap. A wooden slingshot hangs from one of his belt loops, mirroring a pimp cane that is hooked onto his bright red suspenders. When he turns around I see that the top three buttons of his checkered shirt are undone, as splotches of dirt are littered around his face. When he finally speaks, his tone is demanding, "You causing trouble around here?". He motions for the boy that guided me up here to leave. The door shuts behind me causing me to jump a little in my skin.

I gulp before talking, "N-no, I am here to deliver information to Spot" I stutter in the beginning but I slowly build more fake confidence.

"What information might you have, that I want?" Spot says taking down to me.

I straighten my back and stand on my toes to be at eye level with him, "You hired me to be your ears. Thought you might want to hear what the Manhattan boys are planning" I say in a taunting tone.

Spot's crystal blue eyes soften as he realizes I am not some ruffian that is causing trouble on his block, "What's your name?". His voice is still demanding but it is softer than it was before.

"Y/n," I say, "Samuel's sibling"

"So what is so important that you have to see me about it?" Spot says in a condescending tone. Frankly, I'm not a fan of him.

I roll my eyes, to so my distaste for his character before I speak, "If you must know, Jack Kelly is starting a strike". When I say this his tone changes completely, as he sits down and pats the spot next to him.

Once I sit down on the stiff mattress he says, "Sorry for being so hostile, I have a reputation to uphold" he says, and I reluctantly nod before continuing, "tell me everything"

I give him the extent of everything I know. He listens to me intently rarely breaking eye contact, causing me to get lost in his eyes and lose my train of thought more than a few times. After I catch him up on what the Manhattan newsies are planning he asks me to have a discussion with him.

"Do you think Brooklyn should back them?" Spot asks.

My brain immediately goes to my brother's well-being. If he does not sell papers Samuel can't eat, and I can't provide for both of us. "You need to worry about yourselves and the younger newsies. Without making money you guys can't go that long without earning anything. It is a suicide mission" I voice my opinion and all he does is nod.

As I get up to leave I hear him yell, "what's your name again?"

A gust of confidence takes over me as I turn around on my heels and start to walk towards him. I stop less than a foot away from him before speaking, "Y/n, don't forget it". With that, I swiftly take his hat put it on my head before turning around again. When I turn back around to shut the door I see an extremely red, and flustered king of Brooklyn.

[helbramstrauma-main]

A Picture Lasts Longer

Masterlist

Jojo De La Guerra x Reader

Modern Era: Sometimes you need to have an embarrassing photo as your lock screen.

Word Count: 967

The sofa is slouching based on how long Jojo and I spend on it cuddling, watching Netflix, or napping. It is the go-to spot to get away from the world for a little bit, it is like time stops when we are there. However, it does not and that usually leads to a handful of problems. For instance, Jojo is out past curfew for his dorm, making another accidental sleepover. He stays over so much he might as well sign the lease- however, my roommate would never allow that. When my roommate was draining some pasta, he accidentally scared them thinking it was me. Needless to say, my roommate has not gotten over it yet.

"I should call Finch, let him know I am staying here so he does not worry about me," Jo says getting up from the couch. He walks behind me to the accent table and he scrunched his nose up. "Do you know where my phone is?"

I arch my back up against the sofa so I can see him, "No, but you can use my phone to call it" I offer. Diving forward too play the game, how far can I reach before I fall off the couch, I do manage to get a grip on my cell phone. "Here, the passcode is our anniversary" I inform him.

"That's a trick question, we did not make it official until the 29th" Jo defends his position.

I groan knowing we will never be able to settle this disagreement, "but our first date was Valentine's Day".

I expect to hear another rebuttal on how he specifically asked me out on the 29th to avoid being one of the couples who got together on the commercial holiday. To my surprise, I see my phone being held up to face showing me my lock screen, Jojo's head is resting on his textbook as he takes a nap during one of our study dates. "Care to explain?" Jojo questions, as he vaults over the back of the couch to sit next to me again. He crosses his legs over themselves as he turns to face me, and I mimic his actions. "You have to delete this I look awful in it" He groans, tossing my phone into my lap.

I shake my head vigorously, "You look adorable in it" I retort. My gaze shifts to Jo's pleading eyes and pouting lips, his power is being able to beg without saying much. It used to be rather effective in the beginning, but as he kept using it the initial charm wore off rather quickly. "Look at how messed up your hair is. Besides I like the picture- it makes me smile". I send over a rather obnoxious smile as we discuss. Then again I look back down at my lap and I think about that day more and more.

It was right before midterms and I was completely freaking out about my calculus class. I was certain I was going to fail. I would bother Jojo, day and night about it- calling him every time I had a question or simply breaking down in tears over stress. To put it simply, I was falling apart. Jojo offered to study with me, help me with practice tests, and I accepted immediately.

When the day finally came, we met at the library in the middle of campus and it was completely packed full of students. Luckily, one of Jojo's friends got a study room that day so we were able to sit in there. He already had a practice test prepared for me, so I could take it and we would just focus on my weak points. However, when I lift my head all I see is Jojo's head resting on his open History textbook. His brown eyes were covered by his eyelids as his breathing is slow, he looked so at peace. The sight was something that I do not see a lot of, he is always out running around- taking on more than he could handle. I could not help but snap a picture.

I found it scrolling through my gallery recently and I just had to make it my lock screen.

"I am going to keep it," I say handing him my phone back so he could make his call. Now it is my turn to get up so I can take the empty bowl that once held popcorn back to the kitchen.

While I am rinsing the butter residue off the large plastic bowl, I feel the counter start to vibrate. I look over and I see Jojo's phone face up. However, when I go over to investigate the only word to come out of my mouth is, "Hypocrite".

My contact photo is me sprawled on his chest. My hair is going in every direction but down and half of my face is nuzzled between Jo's arm and chest.

"I'll change my contact photo if you delete your lock screen," Jojo asks, already knowing I found out about it.

I simply walk over to him until our chests are touching and go up on my toes. His hands instinctively go to my waist but instead of connecting our lips I simply kiss the tip of his nose. As always his entire face crinkles up as he squints at me. Not ready to leave the closeness, our foreheads rest on each other's.

"I think we are even"I shut my eyes wanting to fully elope myself in the moment. This is when I feel the familiar warmth of Jo's lips on my own. It is over almost as quickly as it happened, so when I look up I simply see a smirk.

"I need to tell Finch I am staying the night, " Jojo says, before walking away completely forgetting that I still have his phone. Smooth Jojo, so smooth.