#one of those bands my dad would blare over the speakers in the car

[lvminae]

Listening to Godsmack while laying in bed with the flu sure is some sort of vibe

#asher.txt #it's way too hot to be in bed but i cant lay in the living room #cause. fucking FLU #im drinking lots of water and taking medicine but it still is uuugh #but listening to godsmack will help me sleep at least #one of those bands my dad would blare over the speakers in the car #while little me snzz'd

[notyourdayrdream]

Summer’s Almost Over (So Come Spend it with Me)

Tan Hands and Tan Lines Day Four Side A: Tenacious

read it here on AO3

By the time Blaine pulled up to Tina’s house, the sun was already beginning to set past the horizon. They were gonna be late.

When Rachel invited him to her fourth of July barbecue a week ago, he had actually been excited. He had only met a few of the New Directions, and they were nice, but this time he was hoping to win them all over. It was summer, and their show choir rivalry was over for the year. Besides, he was dating their teammate, and that had to count for something.

As the date grew closer though, he felt that familiar knot in the pit of his stomach. Blaine knew how important the group was to Kurt. They were his second family, and their approval of him would mean a lot. He couldn’t screw this up.

So Blaine made the best peach cobbler he could, wrapped it in tin foil and set it in the passenger seat of his car. Of course he didn’t have to bring anything, but first (or second) impressions were everything. He settled for a more casual look, an open graphic button down and dark green swim trunks. He gelled his hair down only a little, knowing it would probably wash out anyway.

And he told Tina that he could drive her there. Apparently, he would pass her neighborhood on the ride to Lima anyway. She didn’t have to know he got hopelessly lost trying to find her house.

She was one of the club members Blaine hadn’t officially met yet. They talked briefly at prom for his performance, but that was it. She seemed nice, if not a little stand-offish around him.

He tapped the horn twice, and it took another minute or so for her to come out of the front door. She had on a long black skirt and a black bikini top. Kurt did mention that she liked the color.

“We had to bring something?” She said instead of a hello, sliding into the passenger seat and setting the cobbler in her lap. “Ooh, it’s still warm.” Her eyelids were covered in sparkly blue eyeshadow, eyeliner perfectly winged.

“No, um. It was just the…nice thing to do?” He offered, feeling suddenly self conscious about the decision. She nodded and pulled out her phone, typing at a rapid speed. They pulled out of the driveway and back onto the main road in relative silence.

They just passed the ‘Welcome to Lima!’ sign when Tina exclaimed, “Oh! I made you this.” She pressed a bracelet into his wrist, which he grabbed at the next stoplight.

It said his name on it, spelled out with alternating black and white beads. The band was made of thin red rope, and there were tiny bird and bowtie pins attached. It was a friendship bracelet.

While Blaine was stunned to silence, Tina rushed to explain. “I just thought, y’know since you’re dating Kurt, you’re basically an honorary New Directions member.”

“I made one for everybody, I think they’re starting to catch on,” she added with a wink.

“You made this?” Blaine squaked. He slid it onto his wrist before making a right at the intersection. There were ties on the end, and after some adjustments it fit snugly.

She shrugged. “Yeah, well Kurt had some say in it too,” Tina said. Blaine’s heart swelled, because of course he did. “But I made the bowtie charm out of some recycled plastic.”

“Thank you so much, Tina.” Blaine grinned at her. He saw her pale skin blush out of the corner of his eye.

“He really cares about you,” she said, tugging at her own bracelet. It was lime green, popping against her various shades of black. “I mean, he cried when he came back to McKinley, he missed you so much.” Blaine grinned at that and filed it in his mind for things to tease Kurt about when they were older.

“He told me that you saved his life,” she continued.

Blaine gasped quietly to himself at that. He never knew Kurt was hurting so bad. To say that he saved his life meant a lot. It meant everything, actually.

“So if you ever hurt him, I’ll kill you.” Tina made a slicing motion at her neck, deathly serious. “Or burn your bowties, whichever hurts more.” She laughed at her own threat, and Blaine couldn’t help but laugh too.

Once she sobered up, Tina messed with the radio until ‘Love on Top’ by Beyoncé blared from the car’s speakers. They glanced at each other, eyes gleaming with an unspoken challenge of who could do the most modulations.

By the time the car pulled up to Rachel’s house, they had talked their way through all of the released Marvel movies. Tina ranted about how Thor was hot, dyed eyebrows and all. They exchanged numbers and made plans to watch Captain America on opening night.

They were just under an hour late, the sun replaced by the moon and stars. A few porch lights were still on, and cars pulled into driveways after long days at work. Still, Blaine could hear a pounding base coming from the backyard. He opened the back gate for Tina and stepped onto cool concrete.

“There you guys are! We were getting worried!” Rachel cried, wrapping Tina and then Blaine into a hug. Quinn followed behind and took the dessert from his hands. Rachel shouted to the rest of the group, “Tina and Blaine are here!” Everyone waved and cheered, Puck clapping him on the back as he walked by.

“It’s okay, we had a lot of fun.” Tina smiled and wrapped an arm around Blaine’s neck. And yeah, he realized, they really did. Between singing along to the Top 40 radio station and talking about the ridiculous things both of their boyfriends have done, he hadn’t even noticed that his anxiety about the night had left him somewhere along the highway. He had made a friend without having to put on some sort of mask.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. “Could I have my boyfriend now?” Kurt said from behind them, feigning annoyance. Tina poked his ribs before sliding off and crouching above Mike, who swam over to her.

Blaine felt the blood rush to his face at the sight of his boyfriend with no shirt on. His pale skin was wet and his blue shorts clung to his legs. Yeah, they’ve made out quite a few times, but they never went past second base. He never knew Kurt’s arms did that when he moved.

“Hi. You look, I mean…” When words failed, Blaine opted for kissing him quickly on the cheek. Kurt rolled his eyes fondly and took his hand, leading them to a lawn chair.

“How’d it go?” He asked, whipping his dripping wet hair back off his forehead. He wrung his hands together as he waited for an answer.

“Awh, you’re nervous,” Blaine teased.

Kurt huffed but didn’t deny it, instead rolling his eyes for the second time that night. “Be quiet and answer me.”

“How am I supposed to be quiet and answer you?”

“Blaine.”

“It was fine, Tina’s great.” He threw his wrist into Kurt’s view. “She made me this.” Even though they had only officially met an hour ago, Blaine felt the need to brag about her handiwork.

“Yeah well, Tina’s tenacious about these things,” Kurt muttered, fixing the collar on Blaine’s shirt. His own bracelet dangled off his left wrist. Without looking too hard, Blaine spotted what looked like a tiny slice of cheesecake as a charm. Tina would have to teach him how to make those.

“I heard she had some help,” Blaine whispered, setting his hands around Kurt’s waist to pull him closer.

“Oh yeah?” Kurt smirked. His eyes darted up to his boyfriend’s eyes then back to his lips in a sort of triangle. They both leaned in and began to close their eyes, until they felt water hit their thighs.

Santana splashed them again with water from her pool float. “Ewww, get a room, Leprechaun Gays!” They flipped her off in sync. She cackled and pushed her sunglasses off her face. Blaine was starting to understand the faces Kurt made whenever she was mentioned.

Kurt chuckled behind his hand. “Okay, let’s go get some food before it’s all gone, you know how Finn eats. Mercedes’ dad made burgers.”

Blaine shook his head and layed on the chair. “Can we just stay here for a bit?” He made grabby hands at Kurt, even if it was totally embarrassing.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, but still nuzzling into his chest. Height difference be damned. “Did Tina say something to you?”

Blaine kissed the top of Kurt’s head. “Nah. I just really love you is all.”

#spaceorphan’s sophisticated challenge: tenacious #tan lines and tan hands #glee #writing #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #everyone say blainetina rights!

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 7 - Memories

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, was it a memory?, 2.6k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

“Don’t look down ‘cuz we’re still rising up right now...and even if we hit the ground...we’ll still fly, keep dreaming like we’ll live forever but live it like it’s now or never…”

Willie bobbed along as the song played from the tinny radio speaker outside the bodega. Sheldon was curled on his lap, purring contentedly as Willie pet him absentmindedly.

“You gonna take any chamoy candy, amigo?” Escobar asked, peeking his head out the door.

Willie shook his head.

“Not tonight.”

As Escobar disappeared again, Willie kept nodding to the beat of the song. It wasn’t exactly like being at a concert, but he had been happily surprised to hear the local station playing their songs - they’d been repeating them, in fact. By now he’d been able to assign faces to the voices singing different parts, and hearing Alex’s come through in the harmonies and the occasional solo was comforting.

“We ain’t searching for tomorrow…’cuz we got all we need today…”

The lines were strangely fitting. If Willie could’ve chosen how to spend his last day on Earth, he knew he would’ve spent it just like he had yesterday without question. If only that could make the Alex-sized hole hurt a little less than it had today.

“Can we turn it back to my station now?” Escobar called out. “We’ve heard the same songs, like, four times.”

“It’s Alex’s band, though,” Willie contested. The radio was already playing rancheras. As he stood up, Sheldon leapt off of his lap and went to eat more food.

“Que tiene este muchacho, anyway?” Escobar asked. “You knew him for, like, five seconds and he didn’t leave you a number.”

There was no way to properly express in words the feeling he got about Alex. Their interactions weren’t based on words, even when they had spoken.

“You don’t have to get it, Escobar,” he said, grabbing his board and helmet from leaning against the counter. He hadn't let himself hope it would magically last forever, but the memory was worth it. “I’ll see you later.”

“Adios,” the man said, sweeping up the store and singing along to his music. “Una piedra en el camino...me enseño que mi destino...era rodar y rodar…”

Shaking his head and smiling, Willie kicked off into the late night. He’d spent all morning cleaning hotel rooms, and he tried to remember which number had been the one for Alex and his band, but he never figured it out. The rest of the day, he’d run errands for Caleb and let the one memory he had regained play on loop in his mind. There was nothing that specifically indicated that the man in the truck was his dad, but he simply knew it was. They had the same squint when they smiled.

He hadn’t bothered telling Caleb about it. It would’ve been irrelevant, since he’d apparently been in the foster care system for quite some time. Those were some of the important details he’d gotten from him, but Caleb was rather stingy about the rest - he’d said it was so Willie could live unbiased and make himself into whoever he wanted. It didn’t feel that way, though. Eventually Willie had stopped trying to weasel things out of him and accepted that he might never regain his memories. Of course, it was different now that he knew they could return.

The wind in his hair was nice, but lacked something he couldn’t put a finger on. As he came upon a large home, he skated onto the driveway around the back. He was headed past the pool in the backyard toward his shed and was surprised by a sudden voice from the water.

“William, I’ve asked you so many times not to skate around the pool,” Caleb said, wading over from where he had been doing some laps. Slowing to a stop and picking his board up, Willie gave him an apologetic nod, continuing toward the shed.

“Wait,” he heard from behind. Turning, he saw Caleb climb out of the pool and move toward him.

“You’ve been running around all day, so I’m sure you want some rest. I’ve just been worried about where you go when it’s so late. That’s two nights in a row. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

Put on the spot, everything went blank in his mind. What was there to worry about? Did he know about Sheldon? Even if he did, it wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong keeping the cat at the bodega.

“Not anything to tell,” he replied, trying to mask the strange guilt that had arisen. “Just been skating around.”

Caleb looked down at him, and Willie could never tell what was making those gears turn in his head. He knew he was just looking out for him, but sometimes he just wanted not to give some kind of report at the end of the day like he was doing business.

“I just think about what would happen if you were out there and something were to hurt you,” Caleb told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Or someone. Wouldn’t want another accident.”

Willie nodded solemnly. Caleb’s tone was serious, but for the first time he just felt that it was...insincere. His stomach flipped at the thought and he drove it down into the depths of his mind. That was an awful thing to think about the person who literally provided everything for him, especially when he wasn’t blood-related.

“I’m being careful, I promise,” he said, not meeting the man’s eyes.

“I’ll take your word,” Caleb said. He let go of Willie’s shoulder and strolled back toward the pool.

Walking to the shed, Willie shut the door behind him and confusion swept over his whole being. His dad’s face rose to the front of his mind again. If only he knew more about him to compare the two men, then he could understand why he felt so strangely about Caleb. Looking around the shed, he wondered if an answer could be found.

It was big enough for his bed, some shelves and a desk, with a small closet and bathroom. Apparently he had been living in there instead of the house even before his accident. In his first memory of seeing it, it was the bare necessities and nothing else. While Willie still wasn’t much to keep lots of clutter, he had dozens of sketches that he’d put up on the walls to make it feel more at home. It was quiet and thankfully Caleb didn’t bother him too often in there.

Sitting at the desk, he picked up a pencil and opened to a blank page in his sketchbook. Slowly shaping out a face, he tried his best to remember the details as clearly as he could. Willie wanted it to be as close to reality as possible, even though it wasn’t his usual drawing style. That way if his memory slipped, he could have something to keep him steady. So far the best thing about it was the eyes, but it wasn’t hard because all he had to do was check his own face in the mirror every once in a while. The smile was a little more crooked and wrinkly, and it took several attempts, but he was determined to get it right. He knew it was probably a good idea to get some sleep, since he had a full day of work in the morning, but this was more important.

Hours into the drawing, making sure everything was as close as he could get, Willie looked down at the portrait of his dad, steering wheel in hand, happy as could be. It was a really nice image, and if this were the only way he would ever remember him, Willie was glad it was happy. Checking the time, it was a little past three in the morning. He’d probably hate himself later for staying up so late, but it didn’t make him any less proud of his work. Aside from preserving his memory, it had been a great artistic challenge.

Finally climbing into bed, Willie tried to focus on something else. He brought Alex’s eyes to the forefront of his mind and let himself get lost in the soft crashing of the waves again. It had been rhythmic, which was so fitting for Alex. Allowing the rhythm to repeat continuously, he eventually nodded off to sleep.

Sirens blared and red and blue lights surrounded his vision. Willie was lying on the pavement, not moving and fading in and out of lucidity. The pain in his head was overwhelming. For a few moments, he stayed that way, watching the lights flash indefinitely. Slowly, he watched as all the lights and sirens pulled away, and above his face, the front bumper of a car came in view. A man that he couldn’t see clearly appeared, moving backwards, going from the side of the car to kneeling over Willie’s motionless body in a panic.

After a few moments, the man went back to the car in the same backwards fashion, and Willie’s body lifted in the air. His vision tumbled and he made contact with the car a few times, and when his head hit the pain vanished. Strangely, he landed perfectly on his board and it was like watching the city in reverse. Aware this was a dream, he felt so puzzled by the whole thing. This was a part of the city he could’ve sworn he’d never been through before. Willie had his corners that he’d memorized, but Vegas was big enough to confuse him still.

The backwards skating seemed to be endless, until finally he was running back into Caleb’s home. Caleb was yelling, and Willie couldn’t make out what he was saying at all. Then suddenly they were at a social worker’s office, and Willie looked down at a file with his picture on it. He couldn’t make out anything it said, but he simply sat there as Caleb and the social worker blabbed in backwards gibberish.

The scene changed again, and Willie found himself sitting in the shed, crying. He was repeating a name but it made no sense. A deep loneliness filled his entire body and a strange force seemed to try to compress him into as small a space as possible. The tears and the shaking only intensified, ringing loudly in his ears. Everything was miserable, overwhelming, and he just kept crying out into the dark.

Willie opened his eyes and sat up in his bed. Looking around his room, there was too little light to make out any shapes, and after blinking his eyes he found they were wet. Huddling his knees into his chest, he just sat there in his confusion and fear, breathing in and out. Had those been memories? It was so hard to tell, especially since watching everything in reverse had been so trippy. If they had been, he wondered if they were warped in any fashion. Who would have their memories return through a dream in reverse, anway? The frustrating thing about amnesia was that it had very few absolutes and every case was different.

A pit of anger grew in his chest. Willie felt like some higher power was having fun at his expense. The tears that fell were more from quiet fury than pain. Glancing over at his desk, he saw the drawing of his dad smiling back at him again. Unfolding himself and laying down on his side, Willie stared at the picture and let the tears run until either his eyes dried up or he fell asleep again, whichever came first.

Loud banging on his door was what woke him up. Rising groggily from his bed, he opened the door to find Quetzal, one of the girls from the diner.

“You just woke up?” she was saying. “Come on, Willie, Caleb doesn’t know I rushed over here to get you, you better hurry up.”

Sighing wordlessly, Willie pulled on some clothes, followed Quetzal to her car and clambered inside.

“You’ve been off the past couple of days, you okay?”

Willie took in a deep breath and tried to blink himself more awake as they drove to the diner.

“Just in a funk, that’s all,” he breathed. “Thanks for coming to get me, though.”

“Let’s just pray we don’t get caught.”

“We won’t get caught, he’s doing some kind of new deal today. I heard him on the phone a while ago about some record label he was thinking of buying.”

“A record label? How many businesses does the guy own now, like five?”

“I stopped keeping track. Anyway, Dolores is probably managing today.”

“Oh, thank God,” she sighed. “You had me so worried when you didn’t show up on time. I was ready to get fired for leaving during my shift. At least we don’t have to worry about it now.”

Willie didn’t respond. He knew Quetzal was one of those people who would go out on a limb for anyone, but it still surprised him when she did it for him. He never felt deserving. As they parked at the diner and hurried out of the car, he shook his head. It wasn’t always successful but he always hoped it worked like an Etch-A-Sketch, to get rid of the many things cluttering up his brain.

That was it. Enter the kitchen, punch in, grab an apron, and he was in his corner by the dishwasher again. He ignored the eyes of everyone else who clearly wanted to express their upset by his tardiness.  He was there now, right? Heaven forbid. Willie’s mind, of course, only remained cleared from the shaking for a few minutes. As he got into the groove of spraying and moving things into the industrial trays, he tried to remember more details of the dream, but most had been forgotten. All that was left were sirens and lights.

He’d walked back home at the end of his long shift, since he hadn’t taken his board like usual in the morning. That also meant he couldn’t go to the bodega for lunch, and he desperately needed to check on Sheldon. Willie had peeked into the house and called to see if Caleb was home at all. His own voice echoed back followed by silence. Taking that as a confirmation the man was still busy, he gathered his board and helmet and made his way out to the street.

The wind wasn’t its usual soothing sensation against his face. Willie knew he was tired, but was disappointed to feel that the one thing that felt most freeing to him wasn’t doing its job. It should’ve been enough to lose his thoughts to the sound of the low roll from the wheels, only interrupted by the gentle clacks here and there. There was too much noise inside of him. Suddenly, he understood why Alex had chosen to play drums.

Sheldon was already pattering toward him as he came through the doorway. Scooping the cat into his arms, he held him close and stroked his fur in an attempt to find some comfort. When he started purring, Willie made a little sigh of relief.

“Busy day?” Escobar asked as he organized a shelf.

Willie only nodded. Sheldon was rubbing his head against his face, and it did more to soothe him than the wind.

“Sorry I didn’t come for lunch,” he apologized. “I haven’t been doing my part for Sheldon and I owe you.”

“I would like it if you could be around more,’ Escobar said. “But he’s a pretty good cat, so it isn’t too much, amigo.”

Nodding again, Willie finally heard the music playing in the background. Was it…?

“I thought you were tired of their songs,” he commented.

Escobar shrugged.

“Eh, I had an idea you wanted to listen to them. And they’re not all too bad.”

A surprised giggle came from Willie’s throat, and he smiled for probably the first time that day. He went to give Sheldon some food and let his mind replace the red and blue lights with soft green eyes.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #caleb covington #viva las vegas #memories #fiddlepickdouglas #memory

[henry-cavill-baby]

To Study (Insects) │3

Pairing: Clark Kent (MoS) x Original Female Character

Warning: Shitty Parents, Fluff

Word Count: 3k~

Summary: Clark and Connie; 18 and Graduation. 

A/N: Just Enjoy!

Pomp and Circumstance blares through the stadium grade speakers as the high school seniors walk in a steady line across the green football field, each gracefully taking a seat in the white lined chairs as gusts of light wind nearly blow off more than a few white caps. 

The graduating class of 98’ consisted of 79 students, almost all of the girls donning a pair of wedged sandals, seeing as a pointed heel would’ve slid right into the grass, and almost all of the boys wearing obnoxiously colored sneakers.

Principal Johnson tapped the mic that was strapped to the brown podium and cleared his throat, “Fellow Graduates; It is my greatest pleasure to see you off into the world, and knowing that all of you will make the world a better place. Hardships, and tough times tried to keep you down, but you all strode for success… and look where you are.”

Claps echoed the stands as proud parents rooted and hollered for their children.

“I am with deep certainty that each and every one of you fine adults will go off from this school, and follow the dreams you’ve spent years creating. Some of you will go to college, actually, I hope more than some,” he joked.

“And others may travel the world and see all of what it has to offer. And well, I know there are some of you out there who still haven’t the slightest idea on who they want to be. And that’s okay!”

A ripple of chuckles went through the class of graduates, “You don’t have to know what you want to do; you just have to be willing to try. All of you have the will to achieve greatness.”

“You are not defined by the person you used to be, or even the person you will become, but by your actions and how you impact the world.”

The band started up again and the graduates clapped and hollered for the Principal. “Congratulations Class of 98’!”

All of the students leapt up and tossed their caps into the sky, friends hugging one another in celebration and utter happiness. Connie had just stood up when two strong arms slipped around her waist and lifted her sky high, eliciting a yelp of surprise. 

The grip was strong and the biceps she reached down to grasp could only belong to one overly muscled but still baby faced country boy.

“Clark!” Her yelp went unheard as he boisterously laughed and started to make his way out of the crowd of overzealous students, dodging the people engaged in bro fives and girls with running make-up and sobbing over friends. His hands felt warm and large on her stomach. It was like being held by a teddy bear.

From this height above the rest of the crowd, the figures of Martha and Jonathon Kent were easy to spot, and Connie failed to stifle a giggle and the arms holding her sped up in a bumpy jog.

It was more than difficult to keep her hair from flying all over the place as she bobbled along. He could be like an overgrown puppy at times.

 “Guys!” Martha yelled, “Over here!"

Clark stopped short in front of his parents. A grunt left his clenched lips as he set Connie back onto her two-inch wedges. There was no time for her to enjoy being regular height, or say a grateful ‘hello’ to either Kent. 

The thick forearm of Clark slipped around her cushy waist like a slippery serpent.

The smiling face of Martha warmed her heart, “Look at you two,” and her voice was as warm as an apple eye. Being around Martha used to make Connie crave her own motherly affection, but by now, Martha was the best she was going to get.

“Thanks for coming, you two,” Connie gushed. Her own arm wiggled from the space between her and Clark’s body, eventually slithering to cup his waist. They looked like the perfect couple.

“Please, we wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Martha insisted. Reaching into her mint green purse she pulled out a handheld camera. The two graduates groaned, but only Clark spoke up.

“Really, Mom?”

Martha waved him off, “Oh, hush up, Clark. Your mother only sees her babies graduate once, and if that means a few pictures, then you’ll be smiling for every one. Now, get closer you two.”

Any closer and they’d never come apart.

The flash of the camera shined in their eyes, and it was over as quick as it started. Connie smiled until it hurt, and tried to keep any redness from her cheeks as the hand on her back started to rub in a slow circle. Warmth blossomed in her lower back, and god, she could practically taste Clark’s mischievous smile. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“So, are you two up for some brunch?” Martha asked. “Or if you’d like, I could make us something at home.”

Connie bit the inside of her cheek; it was such a bad time to bring it up. 

They were all enjoying each other’s company; they didn’t need her to bring up the family drama that lurked at her home. But it was better to get it done with than avoid it any longer.

“Actually,” She interjected, slightly moving away from Clark’s warmth. “I wanted to ask if you’d run me by my place. I promised my dad I’d drop by after graduation. You know; show him the diploma and all. It’ll just take a few minutes.”

The three Kent’s were silent for a few seconds.

“Are you sure about that, Connie?” Jonathon coaxed with a raised brow. 

She could taste the questioning worry in his voice, but brushed it off and nodded with a thin-lipped smile.

“Yeah, I think he’ll be happy to see me. Its…” she thought for a moment. 

“It’s been a while.”

The ride away from the High School was tenser than fly trapped in a spider’s web. Martha and Jonathon sat in the front while Clark sat in the back next to Connie. 

There was nothing playing on the radio, and all the windows were up. Her hand rested on the middle seat, fingers strumming an irregular beat. Normally, Clark’s hand would intertwine with hers, but his were straining in a tight grip against his thigh.

The tightness of his jaw ripped at her soul. It was no mystery that Clark hated—no, despised Walter Mayfield. Maybe, an emotion deeper than she understood, something darker than disgust and rage connected Clark and Walter. She breathed in deep, trying to find the courage to reach over and hold his hand. But it never happened.

The Mayfield farm was more decrepit than any of them remembered.

Jonathon turned off the car and turned in his seat. “Do you want me to come in with you?” He offered.

It was tempting but she shook her head and undid the old leather seatbelt. It was hard for her to ignore the way Clark was visibly holding himself back from saying anything, and turning the car handle seemed to hurt worse than a third degree burn.

“I’ll only be a second,” she promised, shutting the door and moving away from the car. 

The air smelt dry; drier than the dirt under her wedges. It was thick and felt like it could clog her throat if she breathed it too long. The shining sun blinded her eyes and she kept her head down on the trek to the front door—taking no mind to the even creakier porch steps and missing rocking chair.

The brown door seemed scarier now than ever before. She had no house key; there was no point to having access to somewhere you didn’t live anymore.

Her knuckles rapped against the aged wood with the hand not gripping the diploma, teeth gnawing into her bottom lip as seconds passed.

A crash echoed inside the house and Connie readied herself as the lock turned from the other side. It’s now or never, she thought, standing straight with her head held high.

The door was lurched open with a gust of air, and her eyes widened at the sight of her Walter Mayfield. Time hadn’t been kind to him, and neither had the glass bottles littering the floor. Dirty blonde hair, missing teeth and the look of a crazed man were what any regular person would have seen; but she just saw her dad. 

“Hi, Dad.”

His left eye twitched something ferocious.

“Connie.”

His voice had become rougher than gravel; probably smoked twice as much as he drank. Dirt caked his fingernails and a dried redness smattered the inside of his elbow. He was the picture of being at the bottom, and Connie instantly hated herself for ever coming back here. This was a mistake, she said to herself.

“I finished high school, Dad.” She held up the white diploma for a split second, watching his eyes follow its movement—up and down, “I—I thought you’d want to know.”

Silence hung between the two Mayfield’s; Connie holding her breathe with trepidation, and Walter staring silently. Neither had moved from their positions on the porch, and all three Kent’s were watching from the car window. Just in case Walter tried something.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Aren’t you going to say anything to me, Dad?” she tried to coax an answer from the man she’d once called her father. But he hadn’t been a man in a long time, or ever really. Trying to see past his shoulders into the run down house was the last thing she wanted to do. 

Too many memories—bad ones mostly—lied inside those molded walls.

Then finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Walter opened his mouth.

“Go ‘way, Connie.”

And he shut the door in her face, the slam echoing through her head long after he’d walked away from the last piece of living flesh he had. Hiccups tried to take home in her throat, and a river tried to flow from her honey pot eyes. 

Was there any timeline that she’d imagined where he’d welcomed her with open arms? What lie had made her believe he’d be happy to see her? It was always going to go like these… and yet, it hurt so much worse.

Warm arms—and the scent of chopped wood and the freshness of dewy wet grass on an early warm sunrise—roamed the air around her clouded mind. It was soothing and sweet, to be in the arms of Clark. He enveloped her in his bear like arms and held her close.

It was a space she never wanted to leave. His clean-shaven face found home in the soft sweetness of her neck, and a solemn kiss found her skin. His lips could chase away any demons.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her skin, nose rubbing against her warmth. 

They stayed that way for only a few seconds and Clark gingerly turned and led them back to the truck. Each step felt like carrying pounds of cement, but with Clark around, she would never fall.

His strong hands sat her inside the truck and shut the door, running around to hop in himself, grateful to leave behind the Mayfield farm in a cloud of dust.

 It was nearing 9, and Clark was already upstairs waiting in his pajamas when Jonathon rested against the doorway of the kitchen, eyes watching Connie.

His presence visibly scared her, and she jumped—clutching her heart.

“Jesus, you scared the daylights out of me.” Her hip leisurely shut the fridge, two pieces of blueberry pie topped with smooth whipped cream jammed onto one plate.

“Did you need something? Clark and I were going to watch some movies till one of us passed out.”

A beat of silence passed between them, Jonathon eventually clearing his throat. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Oh.” That hadn’t been what she’d expected to hear.

“It’s alright, really. I—I should’ve expected it.” The pie plate dinged as she rested it on the cloth-covered table. “I think it would’ve been weird if he wasn’t like that. It takes a lot for people to change, and I just—I wanted…”

“He may not show it, but I bet he’s proud to have a daughter like you.” Jonathon interjected. “Martha and I sometimes wish you’d been ours.”

“I don’t think it would be in my best interest to be Clark’s sister.”

They both let out a breathy laugh. The whipped cream on the chilled pie was starting to run onto the plate.

“There’s something I want to show you.” Jonathon said, stepping from the wall and making his way to the backdoor. “It’s been a long time coming, and there’s no better time than the present."

“O—Okay?” she slowly muttered. “Is this the Kent dead body that you guys keep tied up in the barn?”

He turned and raised a solid brow, urging her to follow him outside. She tried not to think of where they were going; there was no way this could be anything bad. 

This was Clark’s dad; he was the nicest man in town. But as they stalked along the shortly trimmed grass, and the cold chill set into her bare feet, the possibilities flew through her mind.

The thumbnail of her left hand was bitten particularly hard as Jonathon Kent pried open the barn doors, the smell of hay and obstructing her senses. 

Her eyes closed as clouds of dust rushed into the air—no ones cleaned this place in ages—and opened to watch Jonathon reach up for rope hanging from the ceiling.

She gingerly stepped onto the wooden floor and tried not to shiver; it was freezing.  Her eyes followed the rope, hands tugging to open to floorboards just in front of them.

“What’s down there?” she asked shakily, a sense of slight… it wasn’t fear, but a crossbreed between dread and nervousness. They didn’t actually have a dead body, right?

“What?”

“This—“ his finger pointed at the space hidden under the barn, “—is what we found Clark in. He was just a baby with a set of lungs that wouldn’t stop crying unless Martha held him.”

Connie still couldn’t really understand what she was seeing, or what he was saying.

Out of all the things that the Kent’s were hiding—every little town had families with secrets—but the secret being that Clark was from space was a little out there.

“So… Clark isn’t Martha’s?” She looked at Jonathan. “And you two found him in this, 18 years ago?”

He nodded with the most serious face she’d ever seen, but the words spilled out like a floodgate, “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but you have to know how this sounds. Right?”

“It’s why we’ve never told anyone.” He explained, wiping a hand down his withered face. “We kept this from Clark for most of his life. Martha and I never wanted him to know about where he comes from, but then the accidents started piling up. We didn’t have a choice.”

“You two did your best to protect Clark.” She sympathized.

He stepped down into the hole, and Connie quickly followed. Hey eyes took in the glossy ship, and she found herself reaching forward and placing her palm against the sleek metal. It was cool and smooth, and her palm leisurely moved along to the more patterned area, feeling the bumps and grooves.

 It could’ve easily been mistaken for some type of rare metal, but a part of her was starting to believe that this was a spaceship.

“You’ve kept a spacecraft under your barn for 18 years…” she gulped, “And Clark is…”

For some strange reason—in some deep corner of her brain—this wasn’t that crazy. It wasn’t like Clark hadn’t been different from the other kids from an early age, why he seemed to be bigger and stronger than every other kid in their graduating class.

How he pulled a bus from a river.

“Clark’s an alien.” She whispered into the air, nodding at Jonathon with wide eyes. Her lungs blew out all of their air. “Clark is an alien.”

“Please don’t hold this against him.” Jonathon added. “He wanted to tell you the second I showed this to him, but I told him he couldn’t.”

Her scoff nearly cut him off, “I don’t think I would’ve handled it as well as he did.”

“But you are now.” He grinned.

“Because I lo—“

Because I love him

“I love him, Mr. Kent.” Her hand retreated from the aircraft, and she stepped away. “And nothing can change that.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more certain about anything in my life, and that is that I love Clark, and this—“ she longed to hold Clark in her arms, “—only makes me want to protect him more.”

The silence of night stood between them.

Her words shone brighter than a sunset on a summer’s day, and Jonathon found an itch of smile forming on his face. They both stared at the tiny ship, but Connie dared to reach forward and finger a gleaming piece of metal. 

It was freezing cold to the touch, but as smooth as polished silver. It was shaped like a stake that punctured dry soil, but the top had a strange symbol. It easily popped off of the exterior of the ship.

It looked like an S.

She held it up to the moonlight, “Do you know what it means?”

But he shrugged his shoulders and pulled the lever to lower the barn floor hatch, both of them climbing out to watch the floor close up again. “It was in there with Clark, so I’m guessing he’d have a better idea than me.” 

“How much does he know about where he comes from?”

Jonathon turned back and stared as she rubbed the black tool in between her fingertips. Something felt right about letting her have it. 

He nodded to the barn door with a grin, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

A beaming smile stretched across her face and she tore through the barn, uncaring of the hay digging into the soles of her feet. 

The doors flew open with a gust of chilly wind, and heaving breaths winded her chest and she looked across the grassy path.

Clark

He hadn’t changed out of his pajamas—his bare feet stuck in the freezing grass while his hands wrung at his sides. The moonlight shined on the space between them, and she ran towards the sea, thrown into its arms and enveloped in its soothing blue. His arms enveloped her like a blanket, tugging her up and off the grass, holding her close.

It truly was the best feeling in the world, to be in Clark Kent’s arms. It was warmer than you’d imagine, it felt safer than you could dare to dream, and it felt like home.

He gently set her back on the ground, still keeping her close, “Seeing as you’re not running for the hills, I’m going to assume you’re taking your best friend being an alien pretty well.”

Best friend, her rational mind snarled, Lies.

“I mean, I’ll admit, for a moment there I was planning to call the feds and demand a place on their alien tasks unit.” She explained with a giggle, snuggling into his arms with a sigh. His warmth chased away the cold.

“Every single time I pictured telling you about this part of my life,” he reminisced, “It never once went like this.”

Her crown rubbed against his soft chest, humming lightly. “And exactly how had you pictured it?”

“I’d imagined there being a lot more screaming.” A nod to the cornfield, “And I’m glad you aren’t trying to run away. I’d hate to have to chase you down.”

A flare of challenge erupted in her gut, and she pulled back to raise a brow at him, “Is that a challenge, farm boy?” 

It would’ve been fruitless to try and escape his arms, and besides, getting smacked in the face with corn was not ideal.

They stared at one another, and their hearts beat in sync.

There was no fear in her soul—her heart—and there was no doubt that this was the same Clark that pulled her from a watery grave, that held her on sleepless nights and whispered sweet words, that gave her a home and a family to call her own. She was his world, but he was hers too.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” Clark confessed as his hands rubbed her soft hips.

“It’s faster when you’re nervous and softer when you sleep.”   

His hands rubbed her shoulders, “When I was first learning to control my senses, Mom told me to make the world small, to find something to ground myself.”

“The sound of your heart helped me hone my senses.” He picked up her chin and gazed into her eyes, “You helped me.”

“I—I didn’t know, Clark.” The right words seemed lost for her, “If I’d known, I would’ve done anything to help you.”

“But you did,” he cut her off, thumb rubbing the cheek under his palm. “You’ve always been there for me, Connie, and I love you.”

“I’ve always loved you, Clark.” She squeezed his tighter, “And not even being a freaky alien baby can change that.”

A squeal of laughter erupted from her throat as Clark lifted her over his shoulder with ease and bolted into the house, laughter echoing across the farm.

 Chapter 4 coming soon!

#clark kent henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill imagines #clark kent x oc #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent imagines #clark kent #man of steel #dc fanfiction #batman v supeman: dawn of justice #superman #superman fanfiction

[babbushka]

I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Flip Zimmerman x Reader ; 2.1k

The snow is snowing and the wind it is blowing

But I can weather the storm

What do I care how much it may storm?

I've got my love to keep me warm

 It’s the last night of Hanukkah, and Flip is in a bit of a bad fuckin’ mood. He doesn’t know why the hell he agreed to this, to the station party. Maybe because he was a rookie cop wanting to fit in with the big dogs, or maybe it was your holiday spirit being entirely too infectious, but he had agreed, and he was regretting it big fuckin’ time.

You just look too damn good, that was the problem. You look too good with your fashionable dress and hair all done up so nice for the holiday, and it’s driving Flip mad. You had insisted that you match, so Flip was wearing the only suit he owned, which happened to be the same shade of navy blue as your dress. He’s standing right next to you, has his arm wrapped around your waist as you laugh brightly at a joke Jimmy is telling you as you sip on homemade eggnog that one of the secretaries brought, and all he wants to do is kiss you, get you away to some secluded place.  

He’s got something for you, something that’s been burning a hole in his pocket for the past seven nights, something he wants to give you so desperately but every time he tries there’s some sort of fuckin’ interruption. He smokes his cigarette, wishes he had stayed home with you instead of mingling and socializing. He shook so many hands so far this evening he felt like he was running for mayor of Colorado Springs.

“Have you noticed how people are getting more blasé about these space flights all the time? Pretty soon this’ll be known as taking the 9:04 out of Cape Kennedy.” Jimmy is a hand-talker, and he’s talking with his hands around his cigarette, a cup of eggnog dangerously close to getting sloshed all over the place when he says, “I still can’t understand why it should cost a quarter of a billion dollars to send a man to the moon. What’s he going by—cab?”

You nearly snort into your drink at that, and Flip, despite his general grouchy disposition, finds that he’s shaking his head with a laugh himself.

It’s then that the music kicks up another notch. The station party wasn’t a big enough or grand enough affair for live music of any real kind, so they had brought in the big radio and had it plugged into speakers that one of the other beat cops had managed to borrow from someone he knew.

“Oh!” You gasp, when the big band crackles over the speakers, looking up at Flip with those big eyes of yours that have him so weak in the fuckin’ knees, eyes big and bright when you ask with a smile, “Can we dance?”

And Flip doesn’t really want to dance, isn’t really all that good at it, but you’re too fuckin’ pretty so he pinches your nose and gives your face a little shake before collecting your cup of eggnog and setting it down to be dealt with later, before you drag him onto the dance floor.

 I cannot remember the worst December

Just watch those icicles form

What do I care if icicles form?

I've got my love to keep me warm

 There’s no real formal style, Flip finds when he gets onto the dance floor – which is really just the bull pen but all the desks have been pushed away to the side to give enough space for people to show their stuff. Some of the file clerks are doing the twist, others the watusi or the mashed potato. Some were showing off their moves with the locomotion, others still were doing the pony.

You and Flip just moved and grooved to the music, and he spent most of the time twirling you round and round with his hand in yours, until his bad mood started to disappear. How could it stick around, when you were having so much fun?

“You know this song was written by Irving Berlin?” Flip asks as he pulls you right up close to his chest, and you pluck the cigarette from between his lips enough to give a very chaste kiss right square on his mouth, a kiss you laugh into because you’re still a little dizzy from the spinning.

“Not too bad.” You say, your chin propped up on his chest as you look up at him, “But I like the way Ms. Fitzgerald sings it.”

He grins at how cheeky you are, spins you around and around some more.

The trumpets are blaring and the saxophones are playing and Flip almost forgets all about everything, all about the little box in his pocket. He concentrates more on not stepping on your nice shoes, concentrates on not bumping into anyone, concentrates on the radiance that pours out of you.

The station had decorated for the holidays, Christmas and Hanukkah coming so close together this year. It was mostly decked in reds and greens but that was okay, they had put out a menorah for the Jewish cops and staff members, and silver was abundant. The music had been mostly Christmas music, but that was okay too – none of it mattered much to Flip, he was just happy to be with you.

He’s glad to notice you aren’t wearing anything, any jewelry, around your neck. You’re wearing the diamond earrings he gave you for your one year anniversary, but that’s all, and it makes his palms sweat in a way that has you smiling at him, always so loving and finding all his nerves endearing.

“You’re doing wonderfully.” You assure him, and he huffs out a chuckle.

You think he’s nervous because of the dancing, or the party, or the being social, and that’s so sweet. He kisses you, thinks you’re the sweetest thing on the fucking planet.

Because you are.

 Off with my overcoat, off with my gloves

Who needs an overcoat, I'm burning with love

My heart's on fire and the flame grows higher

 Soon though, he gets more and more nervous. Fuck, he thinks to himself, he’s going to have to give it to you tonight – tonight’s the last chance he has for the holiday. He had been procrastinating all week, each of the nights when you’d been over at his house or he at yours, each night ended in hot and heavy make-outs in his dad’s car and then you going on your way, he going on his.

He needed to suck up the courage and do it. He was a cop now, he could do this! He could give you a piece of jewelry!

But it wasn’t just any old piece of jewelry, this was something special, something that he had no idea if you wanted or would like or even would wear. This was something he agonized over, saved up for ages for, put away a special fund from his paycheck in the bottom drawer of his dresser so his ma or pop wouldn’t find it, wouldn’t question him.

And looking at you, dancing with you, laughing with you when you accidentally step on his foot, he just can’t take it anymore, has to get you away.

Out of nowhere, he pulls you to the side of the dance floor, out and away from the public eye. He catches Jimmy’s gaze, and his best friend gives him a wink. Jimmy knew all about the box, of course. He was there to help him pick it out after all. Jimmy winks and Flip wants to bail, wants to just take you home and fuck you and kiss you and eat latkes and let that be that.

But you’re smiling and he loves you so fucking much, that he gives you hand a squeeze.

“Come with me for a minute?” He asks, tugging you in the direction of the back.

“Flip what – ” You ask, worried that something might be wrong with the crease in your brow.

“Just trust me?” He asks, pleads, and you nod.

“Lead the way.” You tell him, squeeze his hand right back.

  So I will weather the storm

What do I care how much it may storm

I've got my love to keep me warm

 He brings you through the station and out to the back. There’s a small courtyard that he knows about, a small little place where there’s picnic tables and a tiny garden for people to enjoy a smoke break or a lunch break or a sanity break from the mundanity of filling out paperwork.

It’s almost pitch black outside, from it being so late, and it’s freezing cold. You immediately curl in around yourself, and Flip, feeling stupid about not grabbing your coats before bringing you back here, pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. He doesn’t mind the cold, is used to it from his lumber days – besides, the frigid December air feels like a blessing against his hot skin.

He didn’t realize how stuffy and warm it was inside the station until coming out here with you, and he nearly gulps down the crisp clean air.

“Everything okay honey?” You ask him, and his chest goes all warm at the way you call him that.

“Yeah ketsl, just.” He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, so he clears his throat and lights up another cigarette, the one he had been smoking accidentally dropped and stepped on in the throes of dancing.

“Just?” You prompt, reaching out a hand for him.

He takes it, walks you over to one of the picnic tables and sits you on top of it. With you seated up on the table, you’re almost as tall as he is, and he cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you, real long and slow and deep. You’ve got half a mind to lay back on the table, he can tell, but he doesn’t want to fuck you here, not out in the open behind the station – you deserved better than that.

You deserved nothing but the best.

So, he steals one more kiss and, standing there between your legs back behind the station on that crisp clear evening on the last night of Hanukkah, he pulls out the small box that’s been jostling back and forth and all around in his pocket all evening.

Your eyes flick between the box and his, and he can see the gears turning in your head.

“Flip is this…?” You ask, wriggling your finger, and Flip feels so stupid he could smack his forehead.

“Huh – oh! No, no it’s nothing like that, not yet.” He assures you. He’s going to propose, he will, but he has a grand plan for that, a plan that doesn’t involve the station at all. That’s going to come later, but for now, “Open it, would you? You’re fuckin’ killing me here.”

Even more confused now, you waste no time in cracking open the box, gasping and covering your mouth with your hand.

“Oh, Phil,” You say, pulling out the necklace from where it’s been kept safe and secure this whole time, “It’s gorgeous.”

“You think so?” Flip asks, knowing that he did good by the way you said his name like that, his real name.

It’s a Magen David made up of butterflies that stick together with tiny magnets. In the soft light of the station windows and the moon, it sparkles and glitters and Flip is filled with so much pride at the way you keep shifting it back and forth to watch it shine.

“I do – put it on me?” You ask, grinning like the lovesick fool that you are, turning around and lifting your hair away from your neck so it doesn’t get caught in the chain.

“It’s real diamond and everything. Bubbe has one just like it, I made Zayde take me to the shop where he bought it for her, that was a fuckin’ nightmare and a half, but.” Flip’s hands shake when he puts it on you, leans down to kiss up the back of your neck, kiss across your shoulders, “It’s worth it, if you like it.”

“I love it.” You beam, and all of Flip’s anxiety rushes out of him, especially when you turn back around and collect him up in your arms, kiss him properly with an, “I love you.”

“Say it again?” He asks, just because he likes to hear you say it.

“I love you.” You indulge him, making him laugh, making you laugh, because the both of you are so enamored with one another.

He helps you off the picnic table, winds his arm around your waist once more.

“Not yet, hm?” You ask, looking up at him, a soft blush on your cheeks at the insinuation that one day, one day you can expect a different little box, one made of velvet and give to you with a grand declaration.

He just pinches your nose again and kisses you cheek, holds the door open for you like the gentleman his ma raised him to be.

Not yet, he thinks. But with the way you’re smiling as the two of you walk back inside the station, the way you immediately show off how gorgeous the necklace is, the way you keep looking at him and dancing with him and kissing and laughing with him, he thinks, not yet but soon.

 I thought you ought to know my heart's on fire

The flames they just leap higher

So I will weather the storm

Why do I care how much it storms

I've got my love

To keep me warm

I've got my love to keep me warm

----------

Tagging some Flip loving friends! <3  @dreamboatdriver​​​​ @kylo-renne​​​​ @callmehopeless​​​​ @kyloxfem​​​​ @formerly-anonhamster​​​​ @thepilotanon​​​​ @solotriplets​​​​   @fullofbees​​​​ @spinebarrel​​​​ @bourbonboredom​​​​ @driverficarchive​​​​ @rosalynbair​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​ @glitzescape​​​​ @adamsnacc-kler​​​​  @ladygrey03​​​​ @venusianmaiden​​​​ marvelous-blog-221 @edwardseyelashes​​​​ @softcrybabykid​​​​ @tinyplanet-explorers​​​ @magikevalynn​​​ @scheherazades-horcrux​​​ @whiskey-bumblebee​​​ @riseofkylo​

#reader insert #flip zimmerman x reader #flip x reader #blackkklansman #holiday fic #12DoO #12 days of oneshots #my writing #adam driver character #adam driver

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 17

https://weeklyfangirl.tumblr.com/post/188826127780/frat-boy-pt-18https://weeklyfangirl.tumblr.com/post/188826127780/frat-boy-pt-18part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16

hi loves, s’been a while :) I’ve been working harder on the frat boy world than you know! 

I had the nightmare again. 

I woke up washed in relief that bodiless entities weren’t hanging over my head- but before the perturbed feeling completely vanished, it snapped back like a rubber band, stinging me harder. 

 The nightmare had gone further this time. 

 The gray crusting wallpaper was, at least, the same. There was a paper house, falling apart as it peeled, and me, trying to outrun the collapse and the ominous beings down its empty corridors. The Watchers, I’d decided to call them, came closer this time as if emboldened by my subconscious inability to dispel them. They’d survived my past dreams, growing stronger with it. And the all-encompassing dread that filled my body sprung each weighted step forward. 

 But before, I hadn’t known what I was running towards. 

 This time, my dream-self knew. There was someone beyond the wall whose animalistic cries weren’t just for anyone. They were for me. I needed to reach them. 

 I ran to the door, just barely ahead of the Watchers. It was barely open, a slight crack to a dark room - but still, it was open. I could kick it further and with a satisfying swoosh, I’d see what - or who - lay beyond it. I could reach them then. 

 It should’ve opened. 

 But it didn’t budge. 

 With impossible dream-logic, it was locked a stubborn two inches ajar. Hopelessly, I tried wedging my body through the opening. A dark shadow appeared at the end of the hall, drawing closer, closer. Slowly, though. It knew I had nowhere left to run. 

 My motions grew frantic, scraping myself against the door as I tried to jam my body further inside. The darkness expanded, trembled, delighted its prey was so easily trapped. 

 There was a flash of the knife from the shadows, the cries grew louder. But I couldn’t reach it, I couldn’t reach him. 

 Darkness stabbed me.

 I woke up drenched in my own sweat. 

 The ghost of the sliding metal lodging between my skin felt hot. My fingers trailed along the dry skin, just below my ribcage, almost certain I’d find a bleeding gouge. Typically, didn’t people wake up before feeling pain?

 --------------

 Dull thuds filled the room. I blurred my vision, imagining the swinging mass to be the thing of my twisted imagination. I socked the punching bag until I felt my fingers were going to fall off. Which was about two minutes. 

 “YOU’RE ALL DOING GREAT! ALMOST DONE GUYS, YOU’RE GETTING STRONGER... besides Y/N!” 

 It was true. My arms were weak noodles. It didn’t stop me from scowling when Renny jogged over in tip-top cheer captain shape. “Come on! Let’s go!! You were doing great!!!” 

 She’d harassed me into coming to the gym tonight screaming “if you don’t show up, I swear I’m going to drag you with me.” Nobody can say she wasn’t true to her word. She’d subbed in for the usual kickboxing teacher, and honestly, she was a natural. A true prodigy. Give a girl a pair of Lulu Lemons and a kickboxing class and she’d… kick its ass? 

 “It’s a free form of therapy eh?” she reasoned, squatting while she spoke. 

 I scowled deeper, hitting the bag weaker than before. 

 “I’m tired,” I managed to moan. So. Incredibly Tired. 

 “Okay I hate to do this, but…” She paused, making sure I’d hear whatever she’d say next. “Think of you-know-whose face.” 

 By sheer Dwayne-The-Rock-Johnson-level will power, I threw my weight against the bag. 

 “There you go!!!” she encouraged, jogging back to the front. 

 I did it once more, in good faith. But my efforts were short-lived and I stopped, breathless, as soon as she was distracted. A droplet of sweat ran down my cupid’s bow. I tasted salt. Anger. Frustration at how weak I was. How helpless I seemed to be. 

 Where was the legendary endorphin high I’ve been promised all these years???! I turned out to be a sweaty sasquatch of a human being, collapsing on the floor as Renny picked up the abandoned towels around me. 

 “You are so dead,” she chuckled. 

 I half-huffed, half-laughed, wholly aware that her statement wasn’t a complete stretch.  

 “So it worked, huh?” Renny asked, driving us out to the free parking lot across the street. Three cop cars whizzed by. No sirens. Non-emergency. 

 “What worked?” 

 “Picturing Harry’s face.” 

 “It wasn’t Harry’s face I was picturing.” 

 “Oh?” 

 She waved her hand to the car waiting to turn in front of us. “Hello? Let’s go fucker!!! Ugh, stupid bitch.” The car moved, begrudgingly, and Renny bee-lined it for the lot. Her tone turned from deadly to friendly in a flip of a switch. “Also, you know there’s a parking garage next to the gym, right?” 

 “Oh, really?” I feigned ignorance. I knew there was a parking garage next to the gym. I just couldn’t afford to pay.

 “Yeah.” We idled at the entrance, and I realized I hadn’t told her where my car is. “Wait, so who were you picturing if it wasn’t Harry?”

 “You know in my nightmares there’s this… dark figure?”

 Her face fell. “Oh my God, you’re still having those?” 

 No matter how much I considered Renny the sister I never had nor asked for, I couldn’t help but feel an odd distance. It was a distance that’d been building over the past weeks, and one that I’d been ignoring, but now, the task seemed impossible. I shrugged, not sure how to explain the unexplainable. I’d dizzied myself all morning trying to figure out what my dreams meant. But in the end, I was too tired. Too tired, too tired, too tired.

 “I’m telling you dude, you should seriously try therapy. I did it after my parents split. Best thing I ever did. It’s something that’s... ugh, it’s stigmatized you know? Therapy is healthy.” 

 “Just like hating yourself in the gym for two hours?” 

 “IT’S HEALTHY!” she shouted at me for the tenth time that evening. I cracked a smile so she knew I didn’t hate it completely. 

 A notification blipped on her phone. She smiled, typing a reply. “Want to hang out with me and Niall tonight?” 

 I half-smiled even though she wasn’t looking at me. 

 “I can’t, I have dinner.” 

 “Oh shit that’s tonight?” She looked up, brows raising. The clock on her dash said 6:48pm - I was definitely late. “Fuck dude, good luck. Tell me how it goes.”

 “I will,” I said. The bluetooth in her car suddenly screeched Timberlake’s “Sexy Back.” We jolted, hands covering our ears as she rushed to turn it down. Her phone glowed - incoming call from Niall - and she looked at me in question. I nodded.

 “Heyyyy boy,” she drawled. 

 His laughter on the other line made me smile. It was crackly through the speakers, somehow making it even more likeable. “Hey beautiful. Where you at?” 

 I got out absentmindedly, closing the door behind me. Her car idled, waiting as I pointed to my car just a stone’s throw away. Nodding, she suddenly laughed at something funny I couldn’t hear. 

 I dug for my keys and slid in the driver’s seat- but my hand paused on the ignition. What in the hell?? My dash was black. Completely black. 

 Did somebody throw a blanket?? Was there a homeless person who’d decided to rest their stuff atop my car? 

 I got out, completely confused, looking at my dashboard covered in a thick liquid. Paint?

 I smeared a finger through it, trembling, a familiar scent, a sick consistency running between my fingers. Knowledge fought against logic just as I caught the tail-end of Renny’s VW disappearing around the corner. 

 There were maybe four other cars in the otherwise deserted lot, dark houses lining the perimeter across the street. The world spun. Saliva bubbled up. Yellow fluorescent street lamps lit my surroundings, but the hue it cast was sinister. I was alone, they told me. Nobody else could see me. 

 Breathe.

 Breathe. 

 The nausea that ran through me at the sudden knowledge of what I’d touched made me convulse. 

 “STOP IT!” I cried, to whoever could hear. “JUST STOP IT RIGHT NOW, YOU FUCKS.” 

 I hurried into the car, locking the doors. My fingers were still wet as I ran the windshield wipers. They weren’t going fast enough. It spread, making it worse. Air vents blew metal. 

 I didn’t care. The tires squealed as I tore out, sticking my head out the window to see. My car swerved on the road as I involuntarily twitched. The blood was drying on my hands. I just needed to leave. We needed to leave. 

 My nightmares no longer lived in the confines of imagination.

 -----

 I called Renny first. It went to voicemail.

 A man exited the convenience store, eyeing me curiously as he went back in his truck. Renny texted -

 With Niall bb. Call you later 

 Fuck. 

 Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

 Fuck fuck FUCK.  

 I didn’t think when I dialled. I didn’t notice my hands were shaking until my phone knocked into my cheek. 

 The dial tone blared in the air. Voicemail. If I was going to die at least one person should know about it.

 I forgot to speak for a moment. “Oh, hi. Harry, uh… they found me. There’s b” - I covered my mouth. Bile rose in my throat. - “...there’s blood all over my car. I’m at the gas station off PCH and Harbor. But you didn’t answer so… never mind. I’ll be fine. I’m fine- fuck.”

 I hung up. The free windshield squeegee they had stationed at each gas pump was the only option. And their murky water were about to get a lot thicker. My dad used to do it all the time for my mom, just like my grandpa always got my grandma gas. Old school chivalry. Father would do it for me now. He’d take care of this. A part of me wanted to call him, but another part didn’t know how in the hell I would explain this. He was busy. Probably already eating with the rest of them or waiting for me. Oh, that’d be awkward. There wasn’t time. 

 I scrubbed with all my weight, pretending the blood wasn’t blood at all. It was thick paint. I just wouldn’t breathe. I wasn’t breathing.

 The squeegee smeared it to a dull red now, the stains lessened but still very much there. 

 My phone rang before I could try scrubbing the other side. 

 “Are you hurt?” the familiar gruff voice asked. Just hearing his voice slightly calmed the mania. 

 “Hi,” I whispered. Why was I whispering? How did I even begin to explain- “Fuck.” 

 Wow, I was eloquent.

 “Y/N, answer the question,” he rushed. 

 “I’m fine. I’m not hurt,” I stammered. “I’m fine.” 

 “Stay where you are.” 

 “I’m sorry, I tried calling Renny but she didn’t answer and now I’m late-”  

 “Just stay where you are. Keep to the lighted area. I’ll be there in ten.” 

 It was less than ten before the grumbling of a motorcycle grew louder, peeling around the corner. It slowed at the entrance, but its rider saw me and the engine roared, only stopping ‘til the sleek machine was propped next to my car. 

 He hopped off with ease, muttering something incomprehensible.

 “I can’t hear you,” I said. 

 He pulled off his helmet, irritated that it didn’t come off easier. Curls in disarray made the worry etched across his face all the more soft. Each time, I forgot how beautiful he was, and the sight of his tall body rushing towards me hit me straight in my unsettled gut. 

 “I’m sorry.” He pulled me in for a hug. “I’m so sorry.” 

 His body held me tight, an influx of Harry and warmth and protection embodied in the steadfastness of his grip covered every inch of me. If I wasn’t so shocked, I would’ve hugged him back.

 I breathed. For a second, the slow electric buzz spreading down my spine was all I could sense. “Y/N,” he breathed. For a second, I didn’t think about why he was holding me. Nothing else processed. 

 He held on a moment longer than I thought he would. His gaze passed me to the car. He was so tall in comparison to it, he didn’t even need to walk around to see the mess.  

 “Fuck.” His words echoed mine from earlier, and he ran a hand down his face. He shook his head, for once, speechless.

 “I’m okay,” I offered.

 He shook his head, backing up only a step. He took my buzz with it. “This isn’t okay, Y/N. I didn’t think they’d do this again.” But the last bit was spoken to himself. His eyes filled with something treacherous, a darkness I’d only caught fractions of before suddenly bore itself to me tenfold. The muscles beneath his black sweater tensed as everything about him tightened. 

 “Again?” I squeaked.

 “It’s pigs blood. An outdated scare tactic.” The obvious came out sharp between gritted teeth. 

 “Well it worked.” 

 His glare locked on me, and I tried not to flinch. He bat his eyes, lessening the sting, and I watched as he tried to return to the present. “You said you were going to be late.” He was trying his best to sound casual, but I heard the strain in his voice. He caught a glimpse of my car and I saw the darkness begin to return before he turned his back to me. 

 “I’m beyond late.”

 He walked to the motorcycle, and I watched as he swung his leg and kicked the stand up in one fluid motion. 

 “Hop on then,” he said, urging me forward with a toss of his head. I walked forward cautiously. 

 “But-”

 “I’ll move your car later tonight.”

 “-I don’t have a helmet.” 

 A ghost of a smile traced his lips. He handed me his helmet. “Don’t fall.” 

 We rolled down PCH, the harbor on one side, the hills on the other. Our coastal city looked different at night. More peaceful. The glitz and the glam more subdued, the orange hues of street lamps shining in a mirrored reflection of the deep blue waters surrounding us. Everything was more approachable and tranquil with everyone tucked away into their homes by 9 PM. 

 Which made it all the more unbelievable that I’d just abandoned my blood-stained car at a gas station.

 He stalled as we crossed the bridge over our beach town’s harbor, and I tugged his jacket to the right - the system we’d established of how I’d give directions. 

 Harry turned his head, the sharp planes of his face stunningly close with how tightly my arms were wrapped around him. Every so often, he’d let an arm fall to rest against mine, letting it warm my own and fastening it tighter around him before we took off again.

 I nodded. He turned. Cruising down Bay View Drive, we passed megamansions of all varieties - tropical Tommy Bahama gated villas with imported plants, Grecian marble fortresses with columns and underground garages. The steep hill to our left held the flower street homes atop them. I rested my head on Harry’s back, wondering what he must be thinking. The girl who always shuns me about money lives here? A nice neighborhood? She clearly doesn’t have the right- 

 He paused at a fork in the road. I tugged his jacket left and we reached the top of Petunia Park’s hill, the entrance to the flower streets. Just above Bay View Drive and the megamansions that were on the water, we were now surrounded by quaint $2 million two-story homes. He paused, the engine rumbling, gently quaking our bodies. 

 I lifted my helmet just enough. “I’m on Carnation.” 

 He remained still, looking out. From the hill, we could see the harbor and the peninsula creating its barrier from the ocean. The houses were twinkling safehouses against the abyss of black horizon. Our little seaside community. In another life, there weren’t as many lights. Traders and fishermen lived in simple homes with simple lives and returned from the sea to sit down at their modest table to have a simple meal and to be simply… happy. If I squinted, I could almost pretend this were something different. That we were in a different time. Time.

 “Harry, I’m late,” I said, as gently as I could. 

 His gaze tore, ripped from reverie. Without saying a word, he adjusted my hands tighter around his waist. Further up the street until there was no view of the ocean, smaller cottages were sprinkled in between the contemporary beach homes. I pulled his jacket hard and he stopped before an earthy gold Provence-inspired home - quaint blue shutters and balconies overlooked an impressive rose garden. 

 I hopped off, handing him his helmet. 

 “S’this it?” 

 “No.” Next door, I walked to the dark-shingled home half its size. I took a deep breath, salty air and dried grass hit my nose. The scent of my childhood. I smiled. “You don’t have to come in. Thank you so much for picking me up-” But when I turned around he was already walking past me, hand reaching back to tug me forward. 

 “Woah, Harry-” I dug in my heels.

 “I’m not inviting myself. Just let me walk you to the door.” 

 Voices drifted to us from the kitchen, the windows probably open. His black BMW was there in the driveway. It blended with the other cars on the street, but to me it looked strange. I’d never get used to it here. I looked to the boy whose black ensemble blended with the night, but whose tall stature made him rise above it.  

 “Okay,” I huffed, because the way Harry’s body was cemented to the ground, I knew that even if I’d said no, he'd walk with me anyway.

 Three knocks was all it took for chairs to scrape along the floor. 

 An excited “She’s here!!” came from beyond the door. 

 “Well thank God, I would’ve eaten the last steaks.” 

 My mom’s eyes brightened as soon as she opened the door - then confusion, then recognition to the boy stood beside me. 

 “You brought your friend.” Her smile grew warmer, opening up her arms. “It’s so nice to meet you.” 

 If the BMW in the driveway was a bizarre sight. This, this right here, topped it all. Harry dwarfed my mom, but he effortlessly leant down, letting her scoop him up. 

 Over his back she mouthed - Nice, then winked.

 “Where have you been? Dad tried calling a thousand times.

 “We were…”

 “At school,” Harry finished. “Her car wasn’t starting.” 

 I shot Harry a look, casually tucking a hair behind my ear. The less they knew the better. 

 “We can have dad look at the car- oh my Gosh, what’s all over your hands?” 

 I looked down - blood. Blood was literally on my hands. 

 “Paint,” I said, ignoring the nauseating fact that pig DNA was stuck beneath my nails.

 “I thought you dropped the art class-?”

 “-It’s a friend’s project.”

 “She’s alive?” a voice called. For once, he was saving instead of berating. As if suddenly realizing we hadn’t even made it through the door before her interview, she turned to Harry with a smile only a mother could give. “Would you like to come in, get some dinner too?” 

 “Oh…” Harry looked at me, almost bashful. “I don’t know,” he settled on. 

 He leant a bit to the side, crossing his arms, then stuffed them in his pockets. It was the only time I could say I’d seen Harry look… awkward. A selfish curiosity wanted to see what he’d look like in my kitchen, in my room, in other parts of my life I’d never thought I’d be sharing with him. He looked like a lost little boy. 

 He must be nervous. 

 “You should stay.” I placed a hand on his arm and he almost flinched at the contact. He looked confused. I couldn’t blame him. Originally I was telling him not to walk me to the door, now I’m saying meet the family! “Stay,” I repeated, softer this time. 

 His eyes searched mine, looking for any hesitance, any joke. He didn’t find any. “Okay,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.  

 My mom flipped around, hands in the air. “Yay, perfect! There’s two steaks, one’s a little smaller. Y/N, you can have that one...” She continued walking away, heading for the kitchen. 

 I waited for Harry to walk through the door, but he stuck out his hand. Me first. 

 If only he knew what he was walking into. 

part 18

#fratboy!harry #fratboy! harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles #one direction #harry #one direction fan fiction #one direction fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles preference #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #dark!harry #dark harry #harry fluff #harry imagine #harry blurb #angst #fanfic

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary:   XY didn't ask to be kidnapped and taken out to the middle of nowhere, but maybe this camping trip is exactly what he needs. Either way, Luka's laughing and XY has donuts, so it's going to be a very cash money time.

Word Count: 1695 | 1/3

Notes: Once again inspired by @bugaboo-n-bananoir, this time in particular by this art, also they're 20/21 in this fic

XXX

XY squinted at his reflection in the car visor mirror.  Luka had kidnapped him before he’d gotten to gel his hair this morning, and it hung limp around his shoulders.  Not cash money at all.  The first time he’d gotten together with Luka in months, and XY couldn’t even sweep him off his feet with a sexy quiff.  At least no one else would recognize him without his signature look, though.

“So where are we going?”  XY asked while tying off his hair at the nape of his neck.

“I thought you didn’t care,” Luka said, glancing at XY out of the corner of his eye before looking back at the road.  His fingers tapped a skittering beat on the steering wheel.  It didn’t match the 4/4 rhythm of the rock song playing faintly on the radio.

“That was before you took us out of Paris.”  XY fidgeted as the tall buildings shrunk behind him.  Sure, he’d wanted to get out of the city—but on a plane to a different city.  

...Except Dad’s video probably got to all the cities nearby by now.  Maybe even back to the States.  

Luka glanced at him again.  He did that a lot, for a guy who was supposed to be driving.  “I figured Paris would be the last place you wanted to be now.”

He wasn’t wrong.  Wherever Luka was kidnapping him to, it couldn’t be worse than what he’d left behind.

“I think you just wanted an excuse to hang out.”  XY laced his fingers behind his head.  He had to keep up what was left of his image, even if he didn’t feel very relaxed.  His foot tapped beneath the glovebox to let out his nervous energy where Luka wouldn’t see.

“If I just wanted to hang out, we would’ve gone back to my apartment.  This,” he paused for dramatic effect, “is a surprise.”

“I’ve had enough surprises,” XY muttered under his breath, but he wasn’t really upset.  Luka was his friend.  Sure, the dude hated him at first, but XY’s amazing spectacularness had finally won him over.  It was bound to happen after they’d worked together on and off for years as Kitty Section’s popularity grew.

Luka’s band was probably more popular than XY by now.  That left a bitter taste in his mouth, like broccoli.  It was hard to be jealous though when it was Luka who saved XY from the fallout of Dad branding him a “pagerizer” in front of the whole world.

“You’re quiet today,” Luka said awkwardly.  His fingers were still tapping, probably missing the guitar strings under them.  That guitar was in the back seat, strapped in with a seatbelt next to their bags.

Overnight bags.  Wherever they were going, they would at least be there a while.  That was good enough for XY.

He shrugged.  “You never told me where we were going.  What else do you want me too ask?”

“I don’t know.  You just usually never shut up.  It’s weird.”

XY smirked.  “Admit it.  You missed the melodic sound of my voice.”

Luka rolled his eyes.  “You wish.  I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.  What happened with your dad… it’s pretty messed up.”

The smirk vanished, replaced by the gurgling feeling in his gut that now came whenever he thought about Dad.  Or whenever he ate too much mac ‘n cheese, but that was less relevant.

“It’s no big deal.  Dad screws over everyone.  It’s about time it happened to me.”  He felt stupid for believing Dad wouldn’t sell him out, but what was he supposed to do?  Cry about it?  

...Okay, so he did cry about it.  For hours.  Too bad he’d forgotten to pack his cool shades in his rush to get out of the hotel, or he would’ve covered up the last of the evidence.  His eyes still looked a little pink in the visor mirror.

“Dude.”  Luka leveled a stare at him while braking for a stoplight.  “He told everyone on live television that your songs were all rip offs.  I’d call that a big deal.”

“Look, I know!”  XY’s hand tightened around his ponytail, before he began braiding it.  Weaving the strands helped calm him a little.  “Just—I don’t want to think about it, okay?  So if you’re just here to—I don’t know, play therapist or something, let me out.  You were always better at playing your stupid guitar than talking.”

Luka punched the gas too hard, slamming XY’s head back into the headrest.  Guilt hurt worse than the lump forming there, though.  Luka was just trying to help.  He was the only one trying to help.  And XY—he just kept being an idiot.

His actual therapist, Mr. Ramier, would tell him not to think like that.  That he had value as a person, no matter how many times he screwed up.  That it was never too late to fix things.  It was Mr. Ramier and Luka who gave XY the courage to stand up to his dad and try to change the way he made his music.

He should’ve known that would be a mistake.

In a way, it was their fault for getting him into this mess, with all their goody-two-shoes ideas and hippie crap.  Stealing music had never gotten him into this much trouble.  If he’d just done what Dad said…

Then he’d still feel awful.  And he’d hate all his music, on top of that.  At least the last album he’d secretly made before Dad sold him out had come from XY’s heart.

They rode in awkward silence, but XY didn’t know how to apologize.  His tongue felt thick in his mouth, like he’d eaten shrimp and had an allergic reaction.  Maybe he was allergic to apologizing?

“I’m sorry,” Luka said, shaking his head.  “I didn’t mean to push.  I guess we’re… not as close as I thought we were, anymore.”

“Lu—no, it’s not like that.”  XY rubbed his eyes.  Why were they trying to water again?  He was probably just tired, that was all.  “Look, I’m really bad at this, but… I’m sorry, okay?  It wasn’t very cash money of me to snap at you.  But I still want… I mean, we are still close, right?  I wouldn’t let just anyone kidnap me.”

Luka’s brow furrowed.  “I’m pretty sure it’s not kidnapping if you threw yourself into my car.”

XY waved a hand.  “Tomato, potato.”

“That’s not—nevermind.”  Luka laughed under his breath.  “Thanks, XY.  And if you ever do want to talk about anything, I’m here.”

XY was about to thank him when he spotted something out the window.  He pressed his hands and face to the glass, grinning widely.  “Ooh, a donut shop!  Pull over!”

Luka laughed again, surprised at first, then just real.  No autotune could match that.  The sound was almost as amazing as one of those glazed donuts would taste.  

One short stop later, they were back in the junker car, rolling off with XY’s lap full of a mixed assortment of donuts.  Some of them he didn’t recognize, but they looked tasty anyway.

“Save some for me, man.”  Luka snagged a blueberry one without looking.

XY tried to say “fine,” but through the mouthful of cream cheese donut, it just came out as a garbled mess.  Oh well.  Luka would get the picture when XY didn’t pound down every last donut in the box.

“And don’t get crumbs all over her,” Luka added with a frown.

XY swallowed.  “Huh?  Why not? This thing’s a piece of junk anyway.”  He did take off his purple jacket, though.  That wasn’t a piece of junk, and he didn’t want crumbs on it.

“He doesn’t mean that, Gwendolyn,” Luka murmured while patting the steering wheel.

“Gwen?  Isn’t that your guitar’s name?”

“No, that’s Gwynevere.  Gwendolyn is the car.”

XY raised an eyebrow.  “Is the real Gwen, like, an ex you never got over or something?”

Luka’s cheeks turned pink.  It was a good look on him, coordinating well with his blue hair.  “Gwyneth was my pet snake.  All the other Gwens are named after her.”

“Oooookay.”  Weird, but not his problem.  He inhaled another donut.

Suddenly Luka sat up straighter, a grin on his face.  “Oh, turn this up!”

XY shrugged and spun the volume knob, which almost fell off under his fingers.  

Even though the rest of the car was probably pulled straight out of the 80s, the speaker system was killer.  The blasting music felt like it might shake the car apart.  The volume knob did fall off at that point, though, so XY couldn’t turn it back down.

Luka didn’t seem to care.  He was busy belting out the lyrics to an almost-familiar song.

“It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this, it was only a kiss, it was only a kiss—”

Luka was getting into it, banging his head and flashing a “rock on” sign.  Man, he was cute.  XY would’ve blasted the radio sooner if he’d known it would make Luka this happy.

“Jealousy, turning snakes into the sea, swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis—”

Luka’s eyes shut while he belted out the chorus.  Probably a safety hazard, but XY was too giddy to tell him to stop.

No more worrying about Dad, or about XY’s career.  Just him, Luka, and the blaring music.

The beat pulsed in him, and he joined in the second round of the chorus.  

“But I’m just a mile away! Desk or tree it’s callin’ free! Open up my beaver friiiiiiiies, ‘cause I’m Mr. Bryce Guy!”

Luka opened his eyes and burst into a cackle.

“What?”  XY pouted.  “That performance was lit!  You should be thanking me for not charging you admission.”

Luka pounded on the steering wheel, tears leaking from his eyes.  Maybe they were just tears of joy from XY being too amazing.  “Of course, XY.  I guess I’ll take that in exchange for all the gas money we’re going to use getting out there.”

XY still didn’t know where out there was.  But as long as getting there involved him and Luka laughing together, it didn’t matter.

#miraculous ladybug #luka #xy #luxy #fic tag #ml fic #tali writes #luka and xy's excellent adventure

[writingmyimagines]

Liquid Courage

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: Cursing and suggestive themes

Word Count: 3.7k

Bright pink. Suddenly all you could see was the brightest, most fluorescent pink that you had ever laid eyes on and it was shoved into your face. 

You immediately drew back from the intrusion.  “What the hell?” you yelled, directed at your attacker.

Your friend Jessica started laughing so hard she nearly threw her milk up as Aaron watched on. Claire had so kindly shoved a pink flyer in your face and began to start waving it around again when you huffed out, “What is that and why do you keep smashing it into my face?”

She backed off ever so slightly, but her eyes shone as brightly as ever. “This, my dear (Y/N) is the opportunity of a lifetime.” Silence rested between you two for a moment, before you waved your hand, urging her to say something meaningful.

“This is an invite to one of Tommy’s parties tonight! I managed to snag it from Maggie who got it from Lexi who got it from Alex because I think they hooked up, who had gotten it from-”

You cut her off, grabbing her free hand and trying to calm her down for a second. She immediately took to breathing heavy, and you glanced at your other two friends for some help with her. “Claire, one thing at a time. Are you sure the invite was meant for you? I mean, we aren’t exactly the most popular people around here.”

You didn’t mean to break her optimistic heart, but it was true. The four of you often spent weekends at the record store, in the park, or just goofing off in each other’s houses. While you may have gotten drunk on a few occasions, Jessie’s dad being rather lenient with his liquor cabinet, you had never been to a party. Aaron had been to one when he had briefly dated Emily, one of Carol’s friends, but the three of you weren’t ever on the party scene.

She started frowning, furrowing her eyebrows at you, before retorting, “Of course it is, or at least, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’re the computer geeks or band nerds, we are attractive ladies, and Aaron, and practically all of Hawkins will be there anyways. There is quite literally nothing stopping us.”

Jessie piped in, “Honestly, it might be kind of fun? I haven’t been to a high school party and I think it’s a good idea to try before we go to college and are in way over our heads.” Ah yes, always the voice of reason.

You nodded slowly, figuring this all out. She had a point, it could be fun, really fun actually. Wild things always happened at Tommy’s parties. Hell, at the last big one before winter break, she had heard that Steve “The Hair” Harrington was dumped by Nancy Wheeler for Jonathan Byers of all people and lost his title as The King of Hawkins. Maybe something else wild would happen, and it would be nice to see it up close instead of hearing it through the grapevine for once.

Your gaze turned to Aaron who had a laidback smile on his face, “I’m in, I need to cool off after that math test today. And I’ve heard things can get pretty crazy…” he raised his eyebrows suggestively, turning towards the table of cheerleaders before you slapped him on the arm.

Claire grabbed your hand again, looking at you with big blue puppy dog eyes, “Come on (Y/N), we were supposed to have a sleepover and help watch the house while my parents go to Indianapolis for their anniversary. It’s perfect timing! Come on, please!” 

You couldn’t help the smile that crept it’s way onto your face, not really seeing a downside to it. Claire cheered and yelled a bit, before calming down so she wouldn’t bring attention to you guys. She started ranting, “Okay, you guys can all meet at my house at 6 and we can get ready and maybe even get the party started early if you know what I mean? We can help do each other’s hair and…” she went off on a tangent about the night’s plan as you felt a flutter in your chest, your heart beating faster.

Not to be dramatic, but your life had seemed so boring and stereotypical lately. School, a few clubs here and there, spending time with friends. The best thing that had happened was there was a rumor of a mall being built soon, but it was probably just a rumor. Hawkins truly was a town where nothing ever changed, but perhaps today was the day that it would.

The sun had long since set on three girls giggling in a bathroom, golden rays changing to the bright light of the stars as they readied for the night ahead.

You smiled cheekily at Jessica as you tried out a magenta lipstick on her, complementing the lavender hues on her eyes. She laughed as you smudged a bit and you heard a groan from downstairs. 

A male voice yelled up, “Would you three hurry up? I thought we were going to try and pre-game together? Not just leave me to sit on the couch and die of boredom.”

This caused more giggling to ensue, though the brunette you were just slathering lipstick onto added, “Maybe we should finish up. The party starts at 9 and we’ve already spent at least an hour getting ready.” 

Claire was busy trying to tease her hair even more in the mirror, reaching for heights not yet known. She made a hum in agreeance before waltzing out of the bathroom.

You glanced yourself once over in the somewhat frosted mirror. Your hair was styled perfectly, more hair spray than usual, but still more relaxed than not. Makeup was heavier, but no crazy colors, and your skin tight skirt made your ass look fantastic. You had to hand it to Jessie, you looked hot. 

So you quickly jogged to catch up with the two of them as you guys made your way downstairs to greet Aaron, rolling his eyes before actually glancing up at you three. He certainly looked taken aback and you felt your back straighten while a smile grew on your face.

He nodded, before commenting, “Not bad ladies, not bad at all. Now let’s get wasted.” He took out a bottle of whiskey that he had been hiding behind his back.

And an hour later, the four of you had a nice buzz going and the whiskey bottle lay empty on the floor. Aaron swiped his keys off of the desk as you all readied yourselves.

You giggled, before dragging Claire to the car, wanting to hurry up and get there already. You felt loose and free and just happy, though you couldn’t deny the heavy beat of your heart as you got closer.

There was not much talking in the car, blasting Queen instead on the way to Tommy’s. But even the radio got quiet in comparison to the booming coming out of what you could only assume was the party house. You grabbed Claire’s hand, making an excitable scream before hustling out of the car. This looked absolutely gnarly. You bit your lip in anticipation as the others got out at a snail’s pace. But finally, you were walking up, the four of you quiet, and Claire swung open the door.

The latest AC/DC song blared over some speakers as you were all hit with the stench of alcohol and sweat. People were dancing on every open space in the living room and it was hard to see past them. Everyone had a red solo cup or can in their hand and you just stood there for a moment with your mouth wide open.

Quickly though, you were pulled by your hand, dragged to the kitchen where you were rapidly handed a cup. Without giving you a second to think, Claire clinked your glass and yelled, “Cheers!” before chugging at least half of whatever drink you had. You followed suit, but made a face as nearly all you could taste in this was vodka. 

You started to put the cup down, when she pushed it closer to you, “Oh come on, we’re hardly buzzed. Tonight we let loose.” And you both made your way to the make-shift dance floor.

Minutes turned into an hour or two and things were seeming to peak. Brady was about to try and crowd surf as a few couples waltzed upstairs, whispering into each other’s ear. You danced on, drinking a beer, you think. You were pretty drunk at this point and had lost Claire in the crowd. You were also fairly sure you had seen Jessica and Aaron walk out back a while ago. But that wasn’t stopping you, especially once you heard the intro to Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics. 

Your body started swaying with the first few chords, running your hands through your hair and singing quietly to yourself. Your hips kept up perfectly with the beat and you added a few moves of your own, shaking your hair from side to side, bending down and popping back up, and without realizing, you had half of the room watching you.

It wasn’t until the dance break that you looked around, seeing quite a few boys and girls eyes on you. But you kept up, just feeling for once instead of thinking. You even mouthed the words, glancing from classmate to classmate before ocean eyes held yours. 

Your breath caught in your chest as you realized the new King of Hawkins was watching your every move. And you loved it, so you smirked, before whipping your hair back around and continuing to sway with the booming rhythm. Emboldened by the liquor running through your system, you were trying to grab the attention of Billy Hargrove. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought of talking to this boy, let alone trying to entice him. He was rude, uncaring, blunt, and undeniably hot.

It wasn’t until the music began to fade into some Foreigner song that you felt a presence behind you and hot breath on your ear. “Nice dance moves darlin’.”

You turned slowly, hips brushing as you turned around to see the blonde that was on your mind. You smiled cheekily, “Well thank you, I noticed you watching and just couldn’t help myself.”

Woah, what just came out of your mouth? Claire would not believe this. 

“Oh so you were trying for my attention then?” You kept his hard gaze, throat going a bit dry at being singled out like this. And those beautiful teal eyes just saw right through you, right into you. You had to remind yourself that he couldn’t read your thoughts, when he continued, “Well you have it, what do you want to do with it?”

He put his hand gently on your hip, squeezing lightly and looking you up and down once more. Your body felt absolutely electric. But the air here was hot, and with him this close, you weren’t sure you could bear much more heat.

You leaned into his touch, pushing his curls back as you whispered, “Maybe you want to take this outside?” Your fingertips tingled as they fell from his hair and you leaned back.

He didn’t say anything, but pulled you closer, putting his arm around your waist and guiding you to the backyard where there were significantly less people. You focused on his hot touch, able to feel the calluses on his hands on the small part of your midriff that was on display. Your mind was going crazy with fantasies. You had always dreamed of some boy stealing you off like this, but now those wild dreams had a face, and god was it good-looking. 

Eyes shifted to the two of you as you made your way to Tommy’s porch, and then the side of the house. He pushed you into the wall with just a bit of force, looking to see if anybody dared get near him. He turned back to you, tongue flicking his lips before he said, “We’re outside, now what do you want darlin’?”

Cheap vodka was flowing through your system and you giggled, watching him carefully so that his figure didn’t turn double. You bit the edge of your lip, finally processing what he had said before you purred, “You.”

His lips were on yours quicker than wildfire, and they felt like it too. Surprisingly soft lips contrasted with the scratch of his slight stubble on your cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was your breath or his that smelled overwhelmingly of alcohol, but you didn’t care as one of his hands left the wall and went back to your hip, starting to massage it.

You playfully licked his lips, gauging his response. But you didn’t have to wait, his tongue started battling yours and you couldn’t help but moan into him, grabbing back up to his golden hair. You were in heaven. 

As if underwater, you heard a voice call, “Nice one Hargrove!” and then a growl came out of his throat. You glanced up at him, blackened eyelashes batting at him, wanting nothing but his touch. He glared at one of his basketball teammates before taking your hand and walking to the front yard. You stumbled on the way, your vision getting fuzzier as you fought to keep up with him. He led you into his Camaro not a few houses down, and surprisingly he was gentle. No words were exchanged before you got into his backseat and he smirked at you, asking, “Is this what you wanted? Something a little more private?” His voice deepened to a growl again at the last few words.

You nodded quickly, making yourself dizzy although the car was already spinning. You pulled his lips back onto yours, grabbing at his signature jean jacket for balance as much as to pull him in. You made out, and it was hot.

You started trying to pull off his jacket when you missed and tried to grab the seatback, but fell from your precariously balanced position onto the carseat. Giggles erupted from your mouth as you struggled to breathe and he just looked at you for a second. “Are you okay darlin’?”

Even you, in your inebriated state, could see that he had gotten softer, not as passionate. You closed your eyes for a second and felt wildly nauseous, opening them up quickly. You tried to nod, but suddenly the slight throbbing in your head that you thought was the music became a raucous smashing. You reached for his shirt again, not saying anything, as you weren’t entirely sure you could.

He pushed your hand back down and helped you sit back up. You watched him look at you critically. Suddenly, you felt embarrassed, let down, and very very sick. He put his hand on your back gently and you pushed off from him, slamming open the car door as you vomited onto the ground. Oh god, that was awful, but at least you felt a bit better. You also figured he would kick you out the moment you stopped, but his hand went back to your back. He started rubbing in soothing circles as you vomited again, sobering up fairly quickly.

You sat there for a second, half your body out of the car, and your face flushed red. Embarrassment ran through you, white hot, making you want to start bawling and screaming simultaneously. You had made out with Billy Hargrove, only to puke outside of the side of his car and humiliate yourself for the rest of your life. Surely, on Monday, every student and their mother would know about the nobody who got so drunk she couldn’t even make out with him. 

“Really, are you okay?”

Slowly, not wanting to upset your body anymore, you glanced at him again. Your glassy orbs met his and you hated how perfect he looked. Blonde hair mussy, shirt open showing his Adonis-like body, and blue-green eyes staring into yours. You could feel your hair stick to your head from sweating and couldn’t imagine what your mouth smelled like. Oh god.

“Hey, wait just a second,” he murmured and you thought once more he would boot you out of the car. He lurched forward and grabbed some napkins from his glove box, handing them to you gently, before also sliding you a mint. He chuckled a bit as your eyes widened and eyebrows furrowed, expecting anything but this from the school’s resident jackass. “A bit too much liquor, eh?”

He sat back, the two of you now sitting quietly in his back seat and you felt your face flush once more, your senses having mostly returned. You cleaned yourself up the best you could, before you turned back to him. He was just watching you, and you stuttered out, “Hey, I am so sorry for this. Just forget it ever happened, I’ll be going.”

You headed for the door before he grabbed for your hand, he called back, “I don’t mind.” Silence, you avoiding his gaze while he searched for yours as you debated just running away from Hawkins and never looking back. He added, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, not a party-er?”

Gears in your head ground against each other, trying to process that the most popular boy in school was trying to talk with you after you had made out with him, tried to get with him, and then puked out the side of his car. You retorted, “Yeah, I guess for a reason as we both can see.”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh and you added, “You can kick me out anytime you know.”

He laughed again, before shaking his head, “Nah, kinda nice not having to be around those shit-head morons.”

A surprised chuckle escaped your throat as your mouth lay agape, “I’m sorry, I thought those kind of people were who you liked to spend time with?”

“Bunch of artificial assholes, boring.” He looked back to you, and for the first time in a few minutes, your gaze met. And you stared at each other.

“What do you do anyway, when your not failing to hold your liquor?” You grimaced, head still throbbing, and you looked at him. “I have hobbies besides partying, something I’m not sure you can understand. I like to sing, and read books, and just act like an idiot with my friends, but we don’t always need to get drunk for that.”

He sighed, and looked down, all the while nodding. “Yeah I guess, it can be an escape though, you know?”

Woah, who was this and what had he done with Billy Hargrove, King of Hawkins, basketball star, badass with an ass? Was he serious? 

He gave a bitter laugh, before responding, “It doesn’t matter anyways, who the fuck here actually gives a shit.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement and you couldn’t help but stare at him, wanting to see his eyes. He was glaring at his car’s carpet and your hands got clammy as you tried to think of what to say to him. He suddenly seemed upset, but not angry, like, melancholic? “I dunno, some people care, it just takes a while to find the right ones,” you wanted to encourage him.

More silence. After a while he murmured, “Maybe some people just can’t be cared about.”

Your heart broke. If someone had told you at the beginning of today you would be trying to comfort Billy fucking Hargrove after making out with him and getting sick in his car, you would’ve sent them to an institution. But here you were. Your hand reached for his back and he immediately straightened up, pushing you off.

“And some don’t want to be,” he looked forward before looking back at your unsure, frozen form. You could see him set his jaw and saw his eyes slowly lose their glisten. And you both just stared again. He had just cried, no, screamed out for help and you just sat there watching. You whispered, “And maybe those are the people that need it the most.”

You reached for his hand. He tried to move, but you held his as firmly as you could, trying to squeeze some sense into him. 

Suddenly he slammed open his car door, moving his way to the front and settling in the driver’s seat. He waited a few moments before looking back at you and calling, “You gonna come up here or do I have to grab your ass?”

You shook your head, and quickly got out, moving to the passenger’s seat per his request. He revved the car, turning on the radio, Aerosmith screaming back at you. He shouted over the radio, “Where should I drop you off?”

You started to shake your head before he cut you off, “None of that bullshit, where are you going?” 

You bit your lip again, before telling him Claire’s address. The two of you drove in silence, him staring violently ahead at the road and you stealing glances at him out of the corner of your eye. It was strange to say the least, but in a few minutes, you were outside Claire’s.

Both of you looked at each other as he parked. The Billy you had seen a few minutes earlier was gone and suddenly he was King Billy again. “Well that was very sweet of you. Thank you.”

He shrugged it off, “Don’t mention it, seriously. I’ve got a reputation.”

You laughed, seeing through his walls suddenly and acted without thinking. You leaned in, grabbing his jaw gently kissing him on the cheek. Quietly, you told him, “I care Billy.”

With that, you hurried out of the car, not looking back, and ran to Claire’s door. You opened up the door, getting inside as he sped off, tires squealing and music immediately blaring again. What a night.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #imagines #reader insert #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #imagine #x reader #billy hargrove x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

[ohprettyweeper-moved]

Part One

Though it seemed to have taken forever to arrive, your favorite season was finally showing itself: summer. 

Your favorite time of life was just beginning, too. Though learning was always going to be something you enjoyed, textbooks and due dates were behind you. Adulthood was on the horizon, as was a new career, but for now, you were looking forward to joining Josh and Tyler on their summer tour for a while. 

Space was limited on the bus, Tyler had warned, so you packed what you could into a carry on and your trusty backpack, including a special photo album you never traveled far without, and hopped in your dad’s car for the ride to the airport. 

“I know you want to surprise him, honey, but I’m a little worried about you traveling without anyone knowing you’re coming,” he confessed as the car rolled to a stop outside the door for departures. 

“Dad, I promise, everything’s going to be fine. Josh knows I’m coming today to surprise Tyler, Tyler thinks I’m not coming for another week because of job interviews I’ve already done. There’s going to be someone from the crew waiting there to take me to the venue.” You leaned over the console to kiss his cheek. “I’m a smart one, Dad. It may be a surprise for Tyler, but I’m completely prepared.”

He sighed. “All right, all right. Tell him we said hello.”

“I will. Thanks for the ride. Love you.”

Your father returned the sentiment, then sent you on your way. 

* * * * *

“Hey, I just landed. Is he still in the dark?”

“Yeah, Mom, we’re good,” Josh replied, playing into the surprise. “Tyler and I are waiting for soundcheck and — okay, he just left the room. Yeah, he has no idea any of this is happening. And I’ll be really happy to change you back to Y/N from Mom in my phone, finally.”

You laughed, wheeling towards the ground transportation area of the airport where you had landed only twenty minutes ago. “Well, I’m pretty excited to see him, and hopefully he’ll be excited to see me.”

Josh snorted. “If the countdown on his phone is any indication, I think you’re golden. I really do have to get to soundcheck though. Be safe getting here, call Mark or Brad if you have any trouble, okay?”

You nodded, even though Josh couldn’t see you. “Okay, sounds good. Thanks for everything Josh!”

“Hey, no problem.”

You shoved your phone into your back pocket and stepped out onto the sidewalk, looking for someone who looked relatively familiar. You hadn’t been able to join them for any of shows this tour yet, but Josh promised you’d recognize the guy they sent to pick you up. 

Sure enough, one of the roadies stepped out of an SUV and waved you over. You waved back and headed that direction. 

“We’ve got just under an hour back to the venue, I’m guessing,” he warned as he pulled into the airport traffic. “I was lucky to get here on time. Traffic is a disaster on the main highway.”

That was slightly disappointing. You were so ready to see Tyler. A few days every months just wasn’t enough — but you didn’t have to worry about that anymore. Now, you could see Tyler whenever you wanted, for however long you wanted. 

Digging around in your backpack, you pulled out the photo album you had made sure to pack. Each little slot was filled with a Polaroid picture of a sunset, each one with the same message written in the white space at the bottom of the photo. 

You ran your fingers over your favorites, smiling to yourself. The next sunset Tyler saw, you two would be together. 

“So that’s where he sends all those pictures,” the driver commented. 

You nodded. “Yeah. I have a thing for sunsets, so he takes a picture of one — or has someone take one — in every city he’s in. Then he sends it to me.”

The driver nodded then fixed his eyes on the road. You figured that was the end of the conversation, so you flipped through the photo album for a while longer, then packed it away again and tried to patient for the remainder of the drive. 

* * * * *

Once at the venue, the driver showed you where you could put your carry on, then made sure you had a pass to get you wherever you needed to go throughout the facility. 

“Ready to see your dude?” 

You nodded earnestly. “I’ve been ready.”

A couple of minutes later, you found yourself just outside the dressing room door. You thanked the roadie, then watched for a second as he went on his way to his duties, setting up for the show. After taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. You could hear Josh and Tyler talking; Tyler’s voice got louder as he approached the door. When he swung it open and saw you, his jaw dropped. 

“Summer girl?”

“Hey there, handsome,” you replied, surprised by the happy tears stinging your eyes. 

Tyler swept you up into his arms, kissing your cheek and even twirling you off the ground. You hugged him back fiercely, relieved to finally be with him again. 

“Glad to see we pulled off the surprise,” Josh piped up. 

You chuckled and let go of Tyler long enough to give Josh a quick hug. “Thanks for the help, Dun.”

“You were in on this?” Tyler asked, tone incredulous. 

Josh shrugged. “Someone had to keep her in the loop so she could plan it.”

Tyler high-fived his friend, then put an arm around you and asked for every detail of how you had decided to surprise him. 

“Are you ready to start your new job?”

You took a deep breath. “I think so. If you’re ready to be around me all the time, that is.”

Tyler smiled and hooked a finger under your chin. “I’ve been ready.”

“Yeah, I told someone that earlier, too.”

His smile grew; his lips were soft and sweet against yours. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the merch crew — they’ve been anxious to meet their new boss.”

You were a little nervous, but agreed it was probably a good opportunity to meet the people you would be working with. Since that first night you had run the merch stand for Tyler’s band, the job had stuck. When you went off to college, you got a degree that would allow you to manage the production of Tyler’s and Josh’s merch, whether at concerts, through vendors, or through their band website. It was an exciting next step, and one that would allow you and Tyler to be together as often as you wanted — and you were even more excited when the meeting with the merch crew went smooth. 

* * * * *

As the time for the show neared, you expected Tyler to be more and more in the zone, but your presence was more of a distraction than you had realized it would be. A few minutes before they were to be on stage, Tyler took you by the hand and pulled you down the hall until he found a shadowed corner. He backed up to the wall, then pulled you into the corner with him. This time, his kiss was rougher, more wanting. 

“So you missed me, then?” you teased against his mouth between kisses. 

Tyler only nodded, kissing you even harder and carding his hands into your hair. You pressed your body against his, not realizing until that moment how much you had truly missed him in your time apart. 

Footsteps down the concrete hall alerted you to someone’s presence. You giggled, expecting to be caught, but Tyler put a gentle hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. Apparently, he wasn’t ready to be caught, yet. 

“Anyone seen Tyler?” 

The question came over the radio of the crew member coming down the hall. You looked up at Tyler; he was already in his stage clothes so it wouldn’t take him long to catch up. He shook his head, letting his hand fall away once the crew member was finally out of earshot. 

“Sorry,” he sighed. “Just wanted a moment alone with you. I’ve got you here and now I want to be selfish and keep you to myself for a while.”

“Hey, I have to share you with ten thousand people tonight,” you reminded him, playfully pushing his shoulder. 

Tyler smiled and dug into his pocket. “If I promise the rest of my life, do you promise I’ll never have to share you with anyone? Not really?”

Your eyes shot to his outstretched hand, and the diamond ring waiting in his palm. “Does this mean — are you — I can’t put a question together, apparently.”

“Let me handle the question,” Tyler replied, getting down on one knee. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

This time, you didn’t bother with trying to control your happy tears. You nodded and told him, “As long as you promise to always sneak me away for kisses.”

“Deal,” Tyler chuckled. 

He got up from his knee and slid the ring on your finger. You pulled him to you by the black tie that completed his stage ensemble, then walked with him to the stage before the crew had a collective heart attack. Just before going on stage, Tyler looked back at you, attempting to suppress his grin. You smiled back, mouthing, ‘I love you.’

* * * * *

“All right, frens,” Tyler said into the microphone, “this is the part of the show where we cover a song or two for you.”

The crowd screamed; you clapped. It was simply too much fun watching the boys play after so long without seeing one of their shows. 

“The first song we’re gonna play for you isn’t the one we’ve been playing, but we’re gonna make an exception tonight, since my summer girl is here with me again. Sing it if you know it.”

A turn of the century pop single, tailored now with ukulele notes, blared out through the speakers. You laughed, but your heart was full. Tyler was sharing his version of your song with the world. Soon, they would all know that you were his forever, but for now, that was news you and Tyler didn’t have to share with anyone but each other. 

* * * * * * * * * *

Tags: @takenvysleep @faceofcontvsions@addictwithaheavydirtycheetah@patdsinner33 @sunshineandapplepie @coolcxt @svintsandghosts 

#twenty one pilots fanfiction #twenty one pilots fanfic #twenty one pilots fic #tøp fanfiction #tøp fanfic #tøp fic #tyler #tyler joseph #reader insert #tyler x reader #tyler joseph x reader #fluff #tyler fluff #tyler joseph fluff #tyler x reader fluff #tyler joseph x reader fluff #imagine #tyler imagine #tyler joseph imagine #tyler x reader imagine #tyler joseph x reader imagine #can you save my heavydirtyqueue

[miss-wanderlustwriter]

The Sky (Part 2)

Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things) x Reader

~2500 words

Let me know what you think, this is my first Billy fanfic!

Feedback, suggestions & requests all welcome ♥

Summary: So after meeting Billy Hargrove at Tina’s Halloween party, feeling a heated connection but not wanting to be sucked in and used by the arsehole, he seems to appear when you’re trying to avoid him, but it’s surprisingly easy to be around him. (Yeah so I’m rubbish at summaries.)

Part 1  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5

(Of course I don’t condone the actions of Billy at all in the show, but I’m intrigued by the character and let’s face it Dacre Montgomery is hot as hell, and such an amazing actor!)

Approaching the next week of school, I had one goal: avoid Billy Hargrove. I did not need him spinning round my head and confusing everything. It was already trouble enough with the Steve and Nancy situation. Which did not improve, they officially broke up.

Steve seemed to find a friend in Dustin, and Nancy and Jonathan went MIA, again. I know it’s something to do with the upside-down, but I knew the bare minimum (alternate universe = dangerous) and they had to promise not to get me involved unless absolutely necessary (Hawkins lab rules) which was fine by me.

So I tried to focus on my school work, I wasn’t the smartest kid in class but I wasn’t stupid. Since my friends were doing god knows what in the Upside-Down, I tended to spend most of my spare time in the library studying.

And then suddenly my time wasn’t spent on my own so much and my one goal flew out the window. Billy would acknowledge me in the halls and in the classes we had together, and he just showed up one day in the library.

“This seat taken?”

I looked up to see Billy freaking Hargrove standing next to my table. I rolled my eyes at him. “No. But I swear to God Billy don’t you dare start with your arrogance and shit pick up lines trying to get into my pants because it’s not going to work” I furiously whispered.

“Okay okay princess calm down, I come in peace,” It was his turn to roll his eyes at me. “I really just want to study, I need to pass this maths exam we have in a few weeks.”

My eyes narrowed at him but I really believed him. So I gave him a nod, he sat down on the other side of the table and we studied in silence. This became the norm over the next few days, which turned into weeks. He would sit with me, actually studying, and we just offered greetings and goodbyes. It was surprisingly comfortable with him around, even though I did get distracted by how devilishly handsome he was, especially when his brow was furrowed over a maths problem.

And so today was no different. Although the maths test was on Monday, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen after then. My chest tightened at the thought that he wouldn’t be around anymore or bother with me, I kind of got used to his presence. He was actually quite pleasant and tolerable when he wasn’t being an arse.

“Hey there Princess.” I was brought out of my trance as he sat down in the chair closest to me today, this was new.  

“Oh hey.” As I focused back to my notes.

“You okay?” He asked with a little amusement in his voice.

“Me? Yeah I’m fine.” I said, looking back up at him.

A smirk was playing on his lips, it reached his bright blue eyes which were fixed on mine for a few seconds longer than necessary, before he looked down at his maths notes from today’s class. “Okay Princess.”

We worked in silence as usual until the bell rang signalling the end of lunch. “Hey,” Billy started as we stood up, “Can I err, drive you home tonight?” He actually looked quite sheepish, with one hand on the back of his neck.

I stopped and looked at him wide eyed, this was also new.

“Oh, yeah sure.” I automatically answered.

“Okay, see you later Princess.” He offered with a wink.

I tried my best to focus for the rest of the day but my mind was in over drive. What the hell. Billy wanted to drive me home. Why. Did this mean we were friends. Was he still just playing me like at the Halloween party. Only one way to find out.

When the bell rang at the end of the day I calmly, or as calm as I could muster, made my way across the parking lot to wear Billy was already stood leaning against his Camaro smoking a cigarette.

“Hargrove.”

“Princess.”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname that for some reason seemed to have stuck since the party. “Come on I do have an actual name you know.”

“Yeah I know.” He flicked the cigarette stub away and raised an eyebrow at me, “Coming? Y/N.”

“Maybe.” I smirked as I climbed into his car, ignoring the stares I could feel on my back.

I heard him chuckle as got in the driver’s seat. Music started blaring out the speakers as he started the car up and I couldn’t believe my ears as we were driving out the parking lot, I loved Mötley Crüe and Kickstart My Heart was one of my favourites!

“I’m impressed Hargrove, you actually have good music taste!”

“What? You didn’t think I had good taste in music?! I’m hurt Princess, real hurt.” He mockingly shot me down.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay okay I’m sorry, forgiven?”

“Maybe.” He glanced sideways at me with that smirk creeping onto his face.

For the all too short journey we laughed, sang and threw banter back and forth like we’d been doing it forever. I was actually enjoying Billy Hargrove’s company; and especially his mixed tape.

We pulled up outside my house as Billy turned to me and put me under his intense stare.

“So, Tina’s having another party next weekend, I was wondering if you wanted to go? With me? As my date?” He smiles, so confidently, I can’t believe I actually nearly say yes. But a date isn’t like a ride home from school and I catch myself.

“Oh Billy,” I flash him my best smile and say “Don’t push it pretty boy; but this was fun, we should do it again some time.”  As I get out the car I slam the door shut and make my way up to my front door. Before I can take two steps I hear him shout “So you think I’m pretty then?!” And I just wave my hand in the air to dismiss him without turning around.

I was smiling to myself as I walked through the front door nearly straight into my Mom on the other side.

“Oh shit sorry Mom.”

“Hey sweetie, don’t worry,” She presses a kiss to my forehead, “I got called in for a shift at the hospital, I know I know it was meant to be my night off but they’re desperate.” She finished as I gave her a glare, she worked too hard at that hospital, but I knew they cherished her, she was one of the best nurses they had. I just wish she’d take more time to herself, but she’s always been that way, so caring.

I sighed, “Okay Mom, I know how much they need you, you’re the best.”

She smiled, “Anyways, what had you smiling like you had a secret just now?”

“What? Oh nothing.”

“Sure? Who was in the car that was driving off?”

“Just a friend,” Is he a friend?! “From school, gave me a ride home, it’s nothing.”

“Mhmm, okay sweetie, I’ll see you tomorrow.” And she left with a knowing look in her eye. Dammit, I was in for twenty questions the next time I saw her.

With Mom at work there thankfully won’t be any arguments tonight. Dad was out in the garage anyways, I’m pretty sure he lived in there more than the house when he wasn’t at work. He loved working on whatever he could get his hands on, mainly old cars he’d then sell on.

We had dinner together and he was back out there. I retreated to my room, with a glass of water and my book I was currently reading, The Hobbit, for about the fifth time. Yes I was in touch with my nerd side, I knew Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Will loved this stuff as well, it was one of the reasons I got on with them so well.

I did start to worry about them, and Nancy, Jonathan, Steve; but they have been flitting in and out of school so it can’t be that bad right. I hope they’re back soon, I’m really missing them, and in constant panic something terrible will happen. The only way I’ve been coping is throwing myself into school, and then Billy showed up into my life.

I could get lost in a book for hours, and tonight was one of those nights. Dad made me jump when he shouted ‘goodnight’ about midnight, I didn’t even hear him come upstairs. I put my book on my nightstand and changed into my grey sweat pants and a band t-shirt, AC/DC tonight, and settled into bed.

As I was drifting off to sleep I heard like a tapping noise, I dismissed it as a bird, but then it got louder and more frequent. Confused and disoriented I sat up in bed, trying to determine where it was coming from, and my drowsiness immediately vanished when I realised it was coming from my window.

I crept towards my curtains. Slowly pulling one to the side to peek out.

And what do I see, but Billy Hargrove standing on my lawn throwing rocks at my window; like some rugged, lost in time Romeo.

As soon as he saw me at the window I saw a grin spread across his face and he dropped the rest of the stones he was holding. I was frowning as I opening my window slightly. “Billy?! What the hell?” I was whisper yelling.

“Hey Princess.” Still smiling.

“What are you doing here, at this time?”

“I came to get you, you said we should have a drive again sometime, so you coming?”

I laughed to myself, as if this was happening right now, it was such a ridiculous situation. “Seriously? I didn’t mean in the middle of the night!”

“Why, got something better to do?” He replied.

“Yes, actually, it’s called sleep. You should try it sometime.”

“Can sleep when you’re dead right. Come on, it’s not like we have school tomorrow; and I just wanted some company.”

“And your first choice of company was me?” I asked shocked.

“No everyone else I tried was asleep.” He laughed as my eyes narrowed and I went to shut the window. “Yes you! Now get your cute ass down here!”

“Alright! Just keep your voice down. Jesus Christ.” I was technically already wearing clothes so I just grabbed my boots and my black hoodie, and since it was 1am I actually didn’t care what I looked like.

I crept down the hall, relieved to hear my dad snoring, down the stairs and out the front door to find Billy leaning against his car, still wearing what he’d worn all day: jeans, white t-shirt and denim jacket.

“About time.” Was all he said as I headed straight for the passenger door.

We set off and something he said earlier just hit me. “Wait, so you think I have a cute ass?” I asked, turning towards him, eyebrows raised.

He offered me one glance and a smirk, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” I said smugly and he just shook his head.

“Where are we going anyways?” I asked.

“Somewhere secret.”

“Oh god, you’re not kidnapping me to murder me are you? Please don’t do that.” I look at him with my best innocent puppy dog eyes, making him laugh, again. I found myself enjoying making him laugh, he wasn’t really one for smiling, but I could bring it out, and that made me feel good.

“Don’t worry, it’s more so that no one sees you looking like that.” He nodded towards my outfit.

“Hey! It’s 1o'clock in the morning Mr. I’m just gonna go wake Y/N up when I know full well she’ll be in bed. You would look no better.” I said in huff. My tiredness was obviously showing.

“I’m joking Y/N, you look… cute.”

I rolled my eyes, and shifted my gaze to out the window. We were pulling up by the lake, and I was momentarily shocked into silence by how beautiful it was. The sky was clear, the moon was so bright, illuminating the lake and when Billy killed the headlights the stars appeared; like someone had just blown a handful of glitter across the black canvas.

Without thinking I got out the car and couldn’t tear my eyes off the sky until I heard Billy clear his throat. I was brought back and saw he was sitting on the hood of the car leaning against the windscreen, he patting the hood next to him and I, rather ungracefully, slide onto the hood next to him. Our arms were inches apart, I made sure of that, but this setting, the way we were with each other, made me feel the electricity filling that space.

My gaze shifted upwards again. “Billy, this is beautiful. I love the sky.”

“I know.”

My head snapped to him to see he was already looking at me. “What do you mean you know?” “Tina’s party, the night I first spoke to you, when I found you again you were sat away from everyone just staring out at the sky.”

I blushed, hoping he couldn’t see in the limited light surrounding us. I was speechless. The aggressive bad boy Billy Hargrove may have actually just been incredibly sweet to me. He noticed something about me and remembered it, enough to bring me here, to a place where the sky was a work of art.

I let myself relax a little, still watching Billy. He looked… Calm and vulnerable. I nudge him gently with my arm “Hey, so what’s up, why did you bring me out here?”

He sighed and took a while to answer but I gave him the time. “Things are a bit, heated. At home.” He glanced to gage my reaction and I didn’t give anything away. “I’m out most nights, here or driving around listening to my music, but tonight I didn’t want to be alone.”

“And you ended up outside my window?”

“I’m just as surprised as you Princess.”

“Hmm…” I tried to stop the corners of my mouth from lifting.

“What?” His eyes shifted to mine as a slight frown appeared.

“Well, I’m just trying to get my head around the fact that the keg King himself actually wants to spend time in my company! First the library study hours and now drives to the lake in the middle of the night.” I triumphantly stated, trying to lighten the mood and take his mind off whatever was happening at home.

“Yeah well don’t push it pretty girl, I might not come get you next time.” But he couldn’t hold back his smile.

And then we were laughing, and we couldn’t stop. When I could finally breath enough to speak I offered my right hand out to him “Friends?”

He hesitated for a second before taking my hand and meeting my gaze “Friends.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #dacre montgomery #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things series #billy hargrove series #steve harrington #Nancy Wheeler #jonathan byers #billy hargrove imagine #max mayfield #will byers #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair

[headoverhiddles]

Shot Of Glory [Richie x Eddie]

The Losers head out to Wyoming in Bill's dad's station wagon for a country festival graduation trip from high school. The crush that Richie's had on Eddie since they were kids is virtually impossible to keep inside anymore, but telling him terrifies Richie to no end- another shot of whiskey might help his courage.

Warnings: Underage drinking. Fluff! Based on the song Shot of Glory by The Washboard Union. Available on ao3 here. 

None of the Losers expected they would be spending their meticulously planned summer grad trip on the road to a country music festival. Except for Ben and Bev and Mike, who all kind of enjoyed the genre. Eddie had been the tipping vote as to whether or not they'd be spending their grad trip in Wyoming or Universal Studios (or Vegas as Richie had pitched, except what the fuck were a bunch of 17 year olds going to do in Las Vegas?). The only reason Eddie voted for the country festival was that he remembered how many germs were on everything in a park like Universal Studios, and completely squicked out at the idea of touching all those safety bars, which he would inevitably be clinging onto for dear life. They only really had enough money put together for the hotel only in Orlando anyway.

 Yeah the boys round here,

Drinkin' that ice cold beer, talkin' bout girls, talkin' bout trucks, running them red dirt roads out kickin' up dust-

"Will someone put some other shit on?" Richie called from the backseat of Bill's dad's old station wagon, "We'll have to suffer through this at the festival, no point in torturing our ears with it now!"

"Some people like this music," Mike said from the shotgun seat, turning it up, and Richie rolled his eyes, bending his knees and putting his feet up on the back of the driver's side seat.

"Where are we now Ben, Buttfuck Nowhere? You're the geography expert, aren't you?"

"History," Ben reminded for the millionth time over the past five years he had known Richie.

"Same shit, yada yada. Just tell me where you can get some decent cigarettes and a pie I can throw in Eddie's face for voting us out here instead of checking out the new Incredible Hulk ride at-"

"Beep beep Richie," Bill said, gripping the steering wheel, "And get your f-f-feet off the seat, my dad's gonna k-kill me."

"Yeah, that's so gross, so fucking unsanitary," Eddie muttered from beside him, and Richie made a face at him.

"I'm actually with Richie," Bev said slowly, "It would be nice to stop for a while, and I could use a cigarette myself."

"We'll f-find a place to pull off," Bill said, "Anyone got a m-map?"

"Yeah, it's up Eddie's mom's ass," Richie joked, and Eddie hit him, prompting Bev to sigh beside them.

"I'm hungry," Stan commented.

"Don't you have, like, a bajillion granola bars packed away in there?" Eddie asked.

"No, it was either those or the birdfeed, and how am I supposed to birdwatch without anything to attract birdfeed?"

"Well, you could just... not bird watch like a nerd?" Richie shrugged.

"Oh, well you could always take your suggestions, Richie, and jam them up your-"

"Would you l-l-losers shut up?!" Bill blurted, "Jesus Christ, we've b-been out on the road for not even a day and you two are about to k-kill each other!"

"I think we all need some air," Ben commented.

They pulled over at the next gas station they saw, and everyone pretty much ran to the bathroom.

"Hey Bev," Richie murmured as they headed into the station, "Wanna hijack the car and run off to Maui?"

"Maui?" she smirked, "I thought you wanted to go to Vegas."

"Anything's better than this flat, barren desert of nothing."

"We'll be at the festival soon." She nudged him. "Come on Tozier- do it for Eddie." She smiled at him, and Richie sucked in a breath. Do it for Eddie.

Bev, Bill and Mike were the only ones who knew about his crush on Eddie. Beverly totally had his back without being pushy about it- the other Losers were stupidly oblivious, but it was okay with Richie if his secret was kept under wraps for as long as possible.

But yeah. He could do it for Eds.

"Hi," Beverly smiled at the gas station attendant. The guy stopped chewing on his gum and looked her up and down.

"Well hey there, pretty little lady. What can I get ya?"

"Pack of Marlboro Reds and a pack of menthols."

"Hoooee!" the guy chuckled, "You're a chimney, through and through, eh?!"

"They're for her mother," Richie supplied helpfully, and Beverly blinked innocently, "She's too sick to get out of bed."

"Heaven knows why," the guy snorted, and rang them through. "Sorry for the formality, but I'm gonna need to get your ID."

"Oh, sure..." She reached for her back pocket, and threw her hands up. "Shoot, must've left it in the car. Gimme a second?"

"Alrighty."

Richie shook his head as Bev jogged out. "She's so forgetful. She's forget her head if it wasn't attached to her shoulders! Hey, while you're waiting, can you grab me another one of those I Heart Wyoming hats from the back? I'm just in love with them."

The guy shrugged, and went off to the back. As Beverly had taught him, Richie quickly stuffed the two packs in his pockets and took off... not before nabbing the display hat off the shelf. He made it to the car, tossed the Marlboros to Beverly and kept the menthols for himself.

"Go," Bev said, kissing Ben on the cheek, and Bill started the car as the guy came back.

"Hey! Hey, y'all wait!"

"You're so stupid, Richie," Stan muttered as they sped off, crossing his arms.

"I think I'm a master thief," Richie said in his British accent, and Eddie smiled a little to himself as Richie plopped the I Heart Wyoming hat on his head backward.

"For you, Spaghetti Man. Red just isn't my colour."

Eddie looked away, and when no one was looking, switched the hat around so that it was facing forward.

"Okay okay, uh... would you rather turn into Shrek every time someone said your name, or have Pee Wee Herman narrate your life?" Richie asked, and Ben burst out laughing.

"They're both so bad."

"Yeah, honestly who would pick either?" Stan asked, and Richie shrugged.

"You've gotta pick one."

"Shrek," Mike weighed in, "Definitely Shrek."

"Not P-pee Wee?" Bill smirked.

"I'd straight up murder that guy."

"If you turned into Shrek all the time, I'd break up with you," Stan pursed his lips.

"Stan, I didn't know you were so materially inclined," Bev acted shocked.

"Yeah, I'm hurt babe," Mike put a hand over his heart, and Stan shook his head.

"I am not dating an ogre."

"Wouldn't be so bad," Richie said, "You could scare people away... Eds, what would you do?"

"I'd like to have you narrating my life," Eddie huffed, "Your mouth already runs a mile a minute, might as well use it to document something useful."

"I would be honored, sir," Richie grinned, and Eddie blushed, looking away. Richie swallowed. Was he trying too hard? Fuck, he was probably giving himself away... He ran a hand through his hair, hoping his anxiety wouldn't get the better of him. Ben looked at him inquisitively, but Richie didn't quite feel like talking anymore.

The next day, after shelling out half of their crumpled up bills they had all saved for the past two years and dumping their stuff at a creepy motel that smelled like bad yogurt and moth balls, they were almost at the festival grounds. Country music was blaring through their speakers, and Bev sang along with Mike, Ben, and a shy Eddie. Even Bill found himself humming along to the tunes, and Richie and Stan discovered they were joined by their mutual hatred of this genre of music.

Soon, the first night of the festival arrived. Favourites of the group like Dierks Bentley, Luke Bryan, Chris Young, and the Zac Brown Band graced the stage, and Richie found that he was enjoying himself a little more now that he wasn't cramped up in the car and could channel his energy into something else.

Currently, the Zac Brown Band was performing a popular song of theirs, "Sweet Annie." Mike and Stan were sitting with each other on a couple of chairs to the side of the bar, giggling about something, and Ben and Beverly were out on the floor, slow dancing. Ben was singing to Bev softly, and though he didn't have the best voice ever, Beverly found everything her boyfriend did to be incredibly sweet and romantic. Her head rested on Ben's shoulder as they rocked together to the music, and she looked over to see Bill dancing with some girl he had found with blonde hair and cowboy boots. Her gaze shifted, and she saw Eddie drinking from a bottle of water, with Richie staring at him, enthralled Nd tapping his knee, a few paces away. Every time one would look at the other, the other would look away.

Beverly sighed.

That night at the motel, everyone paired up for beds. Mike and Stan, Ben and Bev, and that left... Bill, Eddie, and Richie.

"I can take the couch..." Richie said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No no," Bill smirked, the tall brunette teen giving Richie a meaningful look, "Y-you two go ahead."

"You won't even be able to fit on the couch Bill, your legs are like mile-long stringbeans!" Richie protested, feeling his face heat up.

"N-no, it's fine. The couch is closer to the w-w-window. I like to, uh... see the stars." Bill kept on smirking. 

"You sappy weirdo," Richie muttered, and Eddie headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. In the meantime, Richie settled under the covers, taking deep breaths in and out.

He could do this. Of course he could do this! He had grown up with Eddie, ever since they had met in friggin' kindergarten! A billion sleepovers had been spent sharing a sleeping bag with Eddie, Eddie sleeping on his lap, Eddie falling asleep on his shoulder during long car rides to baseball practice, anything and everything for years... so why was it so awkward now? He took off his glasses, placing them on the night table, and rubbed his eyes.

Richie felt his heart skip a beat as the door to the bathroom opened, the crack of light illuminating the dark motel room temporarily before the light was flicked off. Eddie felt his way to the bed-- it wasn't even that small a bed, they both had plenty of space-- and got in.

"Hey Eds," Richie whispered.

"Hey Rich," Eddie whispered back, then paused. "Don't call me that."

"Sorry, spaghetti man. You enjoying the festival?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's pretty fun."

"Yeah..." Richie murmured. He didn't want to stop talking, because that would mean laying there beside each other in silence, wondering what the other person was thinking.

"Watchya thinkin' about, Eds?" Richie whispered. Eddie spent a long time thinking, so long that Richie thought he'd fallen asleep. Then he spoke up.

"How happy I am to be on this trip, Rich."

"Really?"

"Mhmm. It's nice to be away from home for a while... it's refreshing not to have someone watching me all day every day, seeing if I'm just gonna fall apart in front of their eyes." Another pause. "I'm not that fragile, you know?"

"Yeah," Richie offered, not able to think of anything else to say. His home life was the opposite of Eddie's and both boys knew it. Richie's parents didn't care about anything he did, sort of like Bill's, Ben's, and... well, pretty much any of them except for Eddie. But Richie's parents not only didn't care, but frequently made it clear how happy they'd be once he got his "freak little ass out of their house where he can go bother someone else." That's one thing Richie didn't keep from his friends... he didn't know where he'd be if he couldn't share that.

"Rich? You awake?"

"Yeah, Eds."

"S-s-shut up!" Bill called, "If you two don't m-mind, some of us want some sleep!"

"Yeah, keep it down Felix and Oscar," Mike joked. A few more seconds ticked by.

"I sure hope these sheets are cleaned really fucking well daily," Eddie whispered as quietly as he could to Richie, "I'm wearing my favourite red shorties."

Richie squeezed his eyes shut.

Fuck.

The next night of the festival was the perfect night. Starry sky, stage lit up by the moon, it was gorgeous. A couple of songs in, and Richie was getting the jitters all over again. Being this close to Eddie for such a long time was exhilarating, but for some reason, nerve wracking. He had known his friend their entire lives... what was his deal? 

He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up.

The Washboard Union took the stage, and began to play a few of their songs, before they started up a song called "Shot

Of Glory." Beverly's eyes lit up, and she dragged everyone to the floor except for Richie, who headed over to the bar. Shots? Good plan.

Praise be, Richie wasn't carded, as his hair fell into his eyes and he had aged fast with his high cheekbones and growth spurt after hitting 15, so he ordered a "beer" at first.

"What kind of beer?"

"A boilermaker."

"That's... not a beer."

"It's a drink, though. Pip pip, and tally ho good fellow!" he clapped. The guy just gave him the evil eye, but went to get the drink ready.

Boy shit, a boilermaker was not what Richie was expecting, and halfway through the song, he was well on his way to getting tanked. Looking over at his small little Eddie attempting to dance as gracefully as Beverly, Richie's heart ached, and he admired his best friend. He looked so good tonight, in those high socks, shorts, and pink shirt riding up the barely noticeable V of his hips and light snail trail... Eddie looked up, going red at the fact that Richie was watching him fail at dancing, and Richie's heart stopped as Eddie's brown eyes met his. The alcohol wasn't the only thing making him weak.

It's a Friday night, like any other, you walk in I stare and I stutter, every single time you look at me.

Richie wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and finished off the last of the boilermaker. Eddie looked so good... he needed to lie down... but also, he needed to dance. What was that word, dance? Hmm... thinking is a strange thing. Fuzzy, fuzzy, music sounds good, huh... why hadn't Eddie or any of those other losers introduced him to country music sooner? Eddie, Eddie, Eddie Spaghetti. He was beautiful, and silence was not something Richie was good at.

"Good sir! Beer me a whiskey," Richie slurred, trying not to sound like the inexperienced, lightweight of a 17 year old that he was. The bartender eyed him warily, but grabbed a bottle as Richie's fingers drummed nervously on the bar, leg jostling restlessly.

I need a fix of True Companion, Jimmy Beam, or Old Jack Daniels, something strong to stop these shaking knees.

"Eddie!" Richie called, walking out onto the dance floor.

Drinking up my courage, whiskey for my nerves

Eddie lifted his chin, and Richie's head spun.

Got me drunk on your short summer dress, powder room ballerina, I'm gonna need another shot of glory, ain't no turning back...

"Hi Richie. Enjoying your, um... whiskey, I think?"

"No," Richie made a face, spitting it out, and Eddie stifled a giggle, trying to hold him up.

"You're an idiot when you're drunk, you know that?"

"I think Stan would agree with you," Richie replied.

"I think everyone would agree with me," Eddie retorted, smiling, and Richie physically gasped.

You got me high on your tipsy smile and your hips all swingin'

"Dance with me, Eds," Richie blurted, and Eddie's eyes widened as Richie began to dip him. He soon fell into the groove of the song, and the world spun around them. 

We start spinnin', spinnin', spinnin'

Stumbling away in a moment of sobriety, the taller teenager blushed hard and pushed up his glasses, looking around.

"Where's... uh, Bill?"

"I think he's still with that blonde cowgirl chick he was with earlier," Eddie mused, and turned to peer behind him. He noticed a blue pickup truck, and Bill and the girl making out inside of it. "Oh yup. Definitely is."

They stood there for a second, looking slightly out of place on the dance floor.

"How many of these "whiskeys" did you have?" Eddie asked.

"Oh... enough."

"Maybe you should get to bed-"

"Eddie Kaspbrack?" Richie stood up straight as best he could, and felt everything good swirl around him- the laughter, the lively music, the dancing, the smiles of his closest friends as they had the time of their lives. He felt the confidence surge through him. "You... y'know something?"

"What?"

"Eddie Kaspbrack, I've loved you since the day we met."

Eddie stopped, lips parting. Richie felt some part of his brain flashing off, telling him to retreat, back to the motel maybe, the grand canyon possibly on the other side of America to fling himself into, anywhere, just to run, but the other part kept him rooted there.

"Richie..." Eddie said softly, looking down. Richie braced himself for the rejection by closing his eyes, but he almost flipped his shit when he felt two smaller hands on the sides of his face, cupping it as soft lips met his. Sudden gasps resounded from their friends, and Richie opened his eyes to see a (blurry) Eddie grinning up at him.

"You're a dumbass and I love you too," he said, and Richie let out a cry of victory, pumping his fist up. This resulted in a huge group hug, with Richie probably kissing Eddie in the middle of it again, and the band played the last note of the song. Richie broke free, grabbed his glass of whiskey again and took a sip, then got on stage, taking the mic from them.

"I'd like to thank the Washboard Union and the State of Wyoming!" Richie called, raising his glass, and toppled off the stage with a crash.

"Fucking hell," Eddie muttered.

"Hey... is anyone gonna pay this kid's tab?" the bartender called out in irritation. Beverly looked over, and bit her lip, kissing Ben and whispering something to him. Then she approached the bar with a charming smile, and leaned against it.

"Hey there. Has anyone ever told you you look just like Clark Kent?"

#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie x eddie #eddie x richie #reddie #it 2017 #it movie #it movie 2017 #teenager au #teenage au #teenage losers club #losers club #the losers club #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #benverly #beverly marsh #ben x beverly #mike x stan #stan x mike #stanlon #stanley uris #ben hanscom #grad trip

[barelymelinda]

Dance with Me

Second day at this crap job and I was running late. Again. My aching joints were killing me last night, so I had to take a little sleepy pill. And sleepy pill=one hell of a hard time waking up. I’m too old for this crap.

I got in the car and strapped up before doing my anal phone check. Get your mind out of the gutter. In the olden days, anal was synonymous with OCD. I did an obsessive phone check and realized I left the damn thing upstairs in the apartment. It would take forever to get up 3 flights of stairs, unlock the door, get past the demon cat, get my phone, and back down 3 flights of stairs. And I didn’t want to piss off Ted. So I left the phone and headed to work.

I can’t even remember how we survived without cellphones. You never knew where anyone was, no one ever knew where you were. You didn’t know if you were being stood up or if they were running late, if they were dead in a ditch on the side of the road, if they were busy sexting someone else…I’m not really sure whether it’s a blessing or a curse.

They do come in handy though. Especially since they hold our whole lives…pictures, games, email, music …now I’d have to listen to the crappy radio.

Even still, I do miss the days of actually buying tangible pieces of music. We would spend hours at the record store, perusing the aisles, looking for new bands or import CDs from old ones. Not only were there endless rows of CDs, but it was also a great place to shop for dates.

Boys were all over that place. And you could shop according to musical taste. What are you in the mood for tonight? A soulful jazz fan? A rowdy rocker? Maybe a cultured classical man?

I met my soulmate in classic rock, (henceforth referred to as SM). He was shopping for a birthday present for his dad, and adorably asked me for my opinion.

“What kind of music do Dads like?”

“Um, mine is into Juice Newton.”

He raised a brow. “Who?”

“Never mind.”

He decided on Paul McCartney. A little more hip than my dad.

I don’t really remember how the conversation went after that. All I remember is hopping in the back of my truck with this handsome boy, and a couple of my friends. His friend hopped in the driver’s seat and off we went. Times were different then. And yep. We’re Southern. It seemed perfectly normal at the time. Don’t judge.

After riding around for a while, we landed back at the record store (Tower Records, to be precise). We exchanged numbers and called it a night.

A few days later, SM called and asked if I wanted to go see Jurassic Park with him and his same friend. Not being sure if it was a date since his friend was coming too; I coerced two of my friends into going along. When we got to the theater, and piled into the seats, his friend sat down beside me. And then SM did the cutest thing…he climbed over the back row of the seats to make sure he got to sit on the other side of me. Adorable, I know.

After the movie, we went back to his house. His friend ran upstairs to bed while my girlfriends went to the living room to watch TV. It was sweltering in there, dead of summer and the air was out. In Tennessee. Not pleasant. But I didn’t care. I was hanging with SM and all was right with the world. After some polite conversation, we started making out, pretty hot and heavy. And for the first and only time in this lifetime, I felt the words Soul Mate reverberate through my whole being with the very first kiss.

And then, when it was just getting good, he very abruptly took off. He said something like, I have to go. Good night! And he ran up the stairs. So weird.

The girls were hot, tired, and pissed at this point. But I didn’t care. I was on Cloud 9. (Of course I feel guilty now, but I was 20 and selfish back then. Cut me some slack.)

I saw him once or twice after that. I went to one of his shows. He was a drummer, which is so very hot, in my opinion. There was a girl from his work there and for some reason, I was so very jealous. Probably because I am always so very jealous. Self-esteem issues, I know.

And then, I just flipped out. I have no excuse for my behavior. Except I was 20. And selfish. He had a full time job, went to school full time and played in a band. That left very little time for me. And since I must have all of the attention, all of the time, I deemed this highly unacceptable.

So…I wrote him a Dear John on eat me-beat me red stationary (if you don’t know what that means, A. shame on you and 2. Google it) and mailed it to his house. I was a complete lunatic and I immediately regretted it, of course. But I wasn’t quite clever enough to pull off one of those intricate TV sitcom crimes where you break into the post office, the mailbox or the person’s home just in time to steal the letter back before they read it and your life is ruined.

And so lonely, shameful months passed until I saw him at the record store again. We chatted a little at the checkout then he walked me to my car. Music blared from the speakers in the parking lot. The Orleans “Dance with me” came on. (Google it)

SM grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. For a brief moment, we slow danced in the parking lot. My heart melted. When the song ended, he released me. And I never saw him again.

Biggest regret of my life.

3iy�