#but i especially liked the space under the stairs where they had their seasonal shit

[fivelakesinwriting]

can you do a barry one where you’re rafe and sarah’s sister and you’ve been sneaking barry into your room every night while you’re home from college bc your friends with benefits but when ward goes to give barry the money that rafe owes him he says something like “why don’t you ask your daughter who’s she’s been sneaking into her room every night. so ward comes home pissed to wake you up and ask you about it so you go to barry’s house and confront him and it leads to smut

Author's Notes: I wrote her as the Littlest Cameron from Ward's first marriage - because I kinda love that idea. All characters are 18+

Warnings: OBX Spoilers - Only for Season 1 (I assume we've all been there done that..) Swearing, Mentions of drugs/ drug debt, Guns, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos, Smutty.

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

For almost six weeks he had been sneaking into her bedroom at night, completely unseen to anyone. Not even the boy who spent the majority of his days on his couch, passed out or begging for a fix.

This time it was his turn to beg.

He crawled through the window - left open like always for him - and tossed his legs through in to her bedroom. He grunted when her body collided with his in the dark, sending him backwards towards the wall.

"We said 11pm. It's 11:17pm." She mumbled as she pressed on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Sorry. Got wrapped up in some shit. Thought I forgot?" He smirked as he hitched at the waist to wrap his arms around her, reciprocating her affection.

"Yes." She whispered into his shoulder as her fingertips curled into the material of his coveralls.

Barry only lifted her up in response, always amazed that a girl with a brother the size of Rafe Cameron could be so tiny. He carried her over to her bed and laid her on her back, crawling on top of her to take up the space between her thighs. He placed feather-light kisses down her neck, a smile on his face as she pulled at his coveralls.

"Hey, Tiny. I need to borrow some fucking cash. You don't still have that stupid piggy bank or some shit - what the fuck is this?" Rafe came stomping into her bedroom without knocking and flicked the lights on, his hands pushing all the trinkets and books off her dresser as he searched.

"Rafe, what the fuck! Knock first, asshole!" She screamed as she tossed a decorative pillow off her bed and towards her older brother who stood dumbfounded on the other side of her bedroom.

"The fuck is this? Why is he here?" Rafe questioned as he pointed his index finger at the older man on top of his younger sister.

"What's up, Country Club?" Barry smirked as he turned his face to look at Rafe, as if he weren't on top of his little sister.

"T.C, he has to leave. Now. I'm fucking serious." Rafe grumbled with a stern look, a pinch of his nostrils and then exited her bedroom with a slam of the door.

"T.C?" Barry grinned as he propped himself up on his arms above her and looked down at her embarrassed face.

"Tiny Cameron." She sighed as she pressed one hand to his lower back and the other to her forehead.

"That's cute. Shit's real cute. He take money from you a lot?" Barry asked as he leaned his weight on one forearm to run his fingertips over his top lip.

"Not a lot. Sometimes. Mostly takes it from dad, but he asks for money a lot more often now. I'm assuming it's to pay you." She replied softly.

"Some of it. Your brother got a nice new bike out there and he still runnin' up a tab with me, so..." Barry trailed as he placed his hand back down beside her on the bed.

"Don't get me started on that stupid dirt bike." She sighed as she rolled her head back on the sheets.

"Listen, I'm gonna go. I can hear him pacing outside that fucking door. But don't let him take your money, T.C." Barry winked before he gave her a quick kiss on her lips and pulled himself off the bed, heading back towards the window.

"Fuck you, Barry." She whined with a pout, sitting up on the bed to watch him leave.

"Next time." He grinned, flashing her his gold tooth.

*

It had been close to one week since the night Rafe had caught Barry in his little sister's room, and since then his debt had grown exponentially. Rafe felt overwhelmed and reckless as he entered the combination to his father's wall safe. Perhaps that's why he got caught.

"Dad, I swear I learned my lesson. Okay? Let's not do this. Please." Rafe begged from the front seat of his father's S.U.V as they idled out front of Barry's house.

"Stay in the car." Ward ordered as he unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door.

Ward Cameron walked up the dirt path, lit by the lights of his vehicle and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He saw the young man sitting at the fire pit, a bottle of liquor in his hand.

"Are you Barry?" He called as he opened his wallet and began to count the bills.

"Might be. You lost?" Barry asked as he took a swig of the whiskey in his hand and looked over the clean cut older man standing a few feet in front of him.

"No. My son Rafe owes you money. I'm here to pay his tab." Ward replied with a shake of his head as he pulled out the wad of cash, and folded it in half.

"Big Daddy Cameron, huh?" Barry smirked as he stood up from his chair and took a few steps towards Ward.

"That should cover it. Don't sell my son drugs anymore." Ward growled as he tossed the cash on the ground at Barry's feet and turned to walk away.

"Got no problem not selling drugs to your delinquent son. But it's your daughter who might have a problem staying away from me." Barry replied his stance strong as he watched Ward Cameron stop dead in his tracks, his back rigid.

"Sarah?" Ward asked as he turned around, his eyes wide as he looked the dealer up then down.

"You forget you have more than one daughter, don't you? Talking about the little one. Think Rafe calls her...T.C?" Barry replied as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

Ward Cameron ran a shaky hand over his beard as he continued to stare at Barry. He turned to leave, but changed his mind and stalked back over to him, and stood directly in front of the shorter man.

"Stay away from my family. My son and especially my daughter." Ward growled a finger pressed into Barry's chest before he turned on his heel and stomped back towards the S.U.V.

"Big Daddy Cameron." Barry scoffed with a shake of his head as he crouched down to pick up the bills on the ground. He knew he had just lit a match under the Cameron patriarch, but he was fine with it.

Back at Tannyhill Rafe walked quickly into the house and up the stairs, his head hung low as he blinked back tears. He walked passed each of his sisters' rooms towards his own, stopping at the one of the left.

"T.C, better gear up. Dad knows about Barry. He's coming upstairs. Fire is lit." Rafe grumbled with a sniff and then made his way towards his bedroom with a slam of his door.

"What do you mean dad knows about - Hi, daddy." She mumbled as she scrambled off the bed after her brother, only to be met in the doorway by a livid Ward Cameron.

"How long?" Ward asked as he tried to keep his voice even, despite the way his body shook with pure anger. He had one daughter running around on The Cut, a son stealing from him to pay for his drug habit, and now his other daughter - his baby - was sleeping with that drug dealer.

What had he done wrong?

"Since I got home from school. Rafe introduced us at a party." She replied softly, avoiding her father's gaze.

"Are you snorting that shit like Rafe is?" Ward asked, his voice just a whisper and terrified.

"No, dad. I'm not. I swear. It's not like that with Barry. He likes me. He likes me a lot, and we're just hanging out together." She replied quickly as she reached for her father, her hands on his wrists that hung at his sides.

"But you're sleeping with him." Ward scoffed with a glare down at her. So tiny. Just like her mother. Everything about her reminded him of his first wife.

"I...I mean, yes. We're sleeping together. I go and visit him, and he comes over here sometimes." She nodded with a squeeze of his wrists.

"T.C, he comes here? To my house?" Ward glared down at his daughter.

"Dad, I -"

"I can't look at you right now." Ward grumbled as he pulled his wrists from her grip, rubbed his face and walked out of her bedroom, down the hall to his office.

"Shit." She whispered, pushing her hands through her hair. She walked back into her room, over to her desk and grabbed her bag. She walked over to her window, slid it open as quietly as she could and climbed out.

The knock at Barry's door was a surprise. He was expecting no visitors. He slowly raised his body up from the tattered couch, grabbed his gun from the waistband of his pants and walked cautiously to the front door.

"What you want?" He yelled, gun raised.

"It's me, you ass." Her sad voice sobbed back with a slam of her fist against the door once again.

"Fuck." Barry sighed as he reached for the several locking mechanisms on his door and let her in.

"What the fuck did you say to my dad!" She cried with a push of his strong chest.

Barry stood in the doorway and took each hit to the chest. He knew he may have overstepped a boundary or two that night, telling Ward Cameron he was sleeping with his daughter. But, he didn't like to have people come up to his home uninvited, telling him what to do and who to see. So he bit back.

"Stop. Listen to me. He came over here with your brother in the car, tossed money at me and told me to stop selling to Rafe." Barry muttered as he grabbed her wrists then held them against his chest to keep her close.

"And what did you say?" She struggled in his arms and looked up at him with those eyes that were all Cameron. He wished he didn't like them so much.

"I told him that was fine, but he might have an issue keeping his little girl out of my bed." Barry replied with a slight smirk, his gold tooth taking hold of his bottom lip.

"That isn't funny, Barry." She pouted up at him as she struggled to pull her wrists from his grip.

"It's a little funny."

"My dad is livid, Barry! Rafe is holed up in bedroom doing and thinking who knows what. And I - " She pulled her wrists from his grasp and stepped into his small home, beginning to pace.

"They ain't an issue for you anymore. Rafe's tab is paid, and now Big Daddy Cameron knows about us. So, I don't know what's got your panties in such a twist. But you should take them off if they're bothering you so much." Barry muttered as he ran his fingertips over his top lip, and leaned against the door frame as he watched her.

"No. I'm mad at you." She whispered as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

"Nipples say otherwise." Barry muttered with a point to her chest, pushed up under her forearms.

"Don't!" She whined as she covered her breasts from his view.

She was mad at him. It was the first time in the few weeks they had been dating she had felt angry with him. She scowled as she looked him up then down as he stayed leaned up against the door frame. The both of them challenging the other to make the first move.

"Well, are you staying the night or did you just come to yell at me and flash your nipples in my fucking face?" Barry grunted as he pushed himself off the door frame and slowly made his way towards the back of the house, slipping his gun back in the waistband of his pants.

"They aren't in your face." She mumbled but followed him towards his bedroom with a shuffle of her feet.

Barry sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the gun from the waistband of his pants and placing it delicately on his nightstand. He spread his knees and beckoned her over with a wave of his hand.

"I'm mad at you." She stated with her arms crossed over her chest still, looking him over. She did as instructed, though, walking over to his slowly and stood between his knees.

"Well. I don't wanna be mad at you." Barry replied as he placed his hands on her hips to pull her against his chest.

"You shouldn't have said those things to my dad, Barry." She whispered as she uncrossed her arms and placed her palms on his shoulders.

"I was right, wasn't I? You busted out the house and now you're here with me, ain't you?" Barry grinned up at her as his fingertips pushed up the hem of her shirt to touch her skin, still warm from her bike ride over.

"Well, yeah. But that doesn't mean you have to say it to my dad. Asshole." She pouted as she slapped his chest playfully before she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I could have said way worse shit to him than that. Like how you liked to be tied up." Barry chuckled as he placed his hands on her backside and raised his eyebrows at her. He grabbed at her elbows, lifting her arms from around his neck and held her arms behind her back.

"Barry." She whined as she dropped her forehead to his.

"Guess I'll save that one for next time." Barry muttered as he kept his grip on her arms behind her back strong, but leaned in to press his lips to hers.

"Be nice to me." She pouted against his lips as she struggled weakly in his grip.

"No. You gotta make up for your dad coming in and fucking up my night." Barry smirked as he held her wrists behind her back with one hand as the other reached to the front of her shirt, pushing it beneath her breasts.

"I knew you had a daddy kink, Barry. But if you wanna fuck my dad that's a deal breaker for me." She grinned as she squirmed in his grip.

"Get on your hands and knees. Tiny Cameron." Barry growled as he let her wrists go and slapped her backside firmly.

"Ow! Fuck you." She whined as she crawled over his lap and onto the bed.

"About time." Barry mumbled as he stood up, turning the face the bed to see her back arched the way liked. He ran his thumb over his top lip and smiled softly to himself.

He wasn't going to stop selling to Rafe Cameron, that was something Rafe had to decide for himself. And he certainly wasn't going to stop seeing or sleeping with the girl currently in his bed, wiggling her ass at him for his attention.

Ward Cameron would have to kill him first.

Hottie List: @starkey-babie @sodasback @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @beauvibaby @professional-busboy @soph0864 @vinniehcker

*tag list still open if you'd like to be added - just let me know! Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much! xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

#barry baddies #obx barry #barry x reader #barry x reader smut #outer banks imagines #outer banks barry #barry obx #obx requests #obx fic #obx imagine #obx request #outer banks requests #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine

[fruitcoops]

Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better. 

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood. 

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more. 

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment. 

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen. 

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them. 

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.” 

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?” 

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius.  I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.” 

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!” 

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.” 

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus. 

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.” 

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.” 

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.” 

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending. 

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.” 

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

#remus lupin #sirius black #bowie #felix martin #simon #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove #coops #hockey #adhd #blood on the ice #found family #prohibitionincurls #collab #fanfic #my fic

[shotofire]

Number 9

Kageyama x F!Reader

Overview: You’re a student at Aobajosai high, and during a tournament a setter for the opposite team catches your eye

Warnings: Cursing

Season: 2

I got a request that said “Just give me some Kageyama” 🤣 So here it is anon, hope it meets your standards.

-

The sound of boys yelling and sneakers squeaking the floor can be heard from every point in the gymnasium. The stands were full of each teams supporters, letting out chants and shouting ‘nice kill’ every so often. Taking the floor now was your school, Aobajosai, and Karasuno. Volleyball wasn’t a sport you ever got into, but it was still entertaining to watch. Mizu, a good friend of yours, basically begged you to come here with her.

The girl has an obsession with Oikawa for whatever reason and feels the need to come to every single one of his games. He didn’t even talk to her all that much, and is kind of a stuck up jerk in your opinion. There’s no denying he’s a powerhouse when it comes to volleyball. “This whole thing decides if they go to nationals!” Mizu’s excited voice breaks you from your thoughts. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

You can only imagine how they feel down there, especially the third years. Some of the players look like they could pass out any second from pure adrenaline. Mizu made you stand at the bottom of the dozens of perfectly suitable chairs instead of sitting. She wanted to be able to make out Oikawa facial features, and hear his voice. Yep, she’s totally whipped.

“Is Karasuno any good?” Sure it was known that your school has a great team, but you’d never kept up with others. She only shrugs her shoulders at your question, eyes fixed on Oikawa as he starts to serve. Of course she didn’t know, all her attention was on one person every single match. “Did you see that serve?! It was amazing!” She jumps up and down with glee, jeez, shes down bad.

As time goes on it becomes apparent that Karasuno is in fact a good team. Better than just good, they’re incredibly talented and continue to surprise you. Every single boy has some sort of secret move that no one sees coming, it’s impressive. Number ten was lightening fast and your eyes have trouble keeping up with him. Then there’s number nine, obviously the setter, who has grabbed your attention as well. He’s kind of... cute.

He has this determined look on his face, and has been making some impressive plays. The boy seems to work pretty well with the small redhead, they even give each other goofy smiles whenever a great play is made. Deep down you wanted Karasuno to win, it seems like no one believes in them.

Number ten slams down and spike and you can’t help but cheer out. “We’re the blue and white team, you know that right?” Shit, you forgot Mizu was here. She was so in-depth looking at her dream boy that you’re surprised she even heard you. “Yeah but that was a killer spike, you gotta admit.” Her face turns into a frown and she huffs, “If you’re gonna cheer for the other team you can go to their side.” Was it really that deep?

Honestly you didn’t care where you stood, either way you’d probably still cheer for Karasuno. The team continues to surprise everyone and it’s crazy to witness. You’d heard someone call them the ‘wingless crows’ once when describing their volleyball team. These boys have definitely put that name six feet under. “Oh shit, they won!” You say and Mizu’s face is on the verge of tears.

“I can’t even imagine how my baby feels.” Yep, he’s totally her baby. “He did good, he’ll be okay.” It’s a bit heartless to say but it’s true. Oikawa gave all he had and scared the shit out of everyone with his spikes, but the crows are just too strong. They were underestimated and it caused your school’s team to loose. They may have lost but they sure didn’t fail, their fight kept up to the very end. It’s crazy to see the passion people can have for a sport.

“We have to go see the team!” Her voice was urgent as she grabs your wrist snd begins dragging you out of the stands and down the stairs. “Are you sure they’d want us in their business right after a loss?” It wouldn’t even change the matter if Mizu was actually dating Oikawa, the guy needs some space. “Well you can go do that, I need to use the restroom.” Really, you didn’t. But you didn’t want to see their annoyed expressions when your friend runs up on them with too much energy.

Number nine creeps his way into your mind. The guy was good, and showed so much passion. It’s enough to catch anyone’s eye. To put that much effort into something is so admirable, you wish you could care for something as much.

Right as you round the corner, you have no idea where you are going, you see him. Number nine. Him and his team are jumping on another with hugs and hard pats to the back. The boy looks happy, and once again.. so cute. Maybe I should talk to him, you shook your head at the thought. There’s no way he doesn’t have a girlfriend with that pretty face. Well if he did have a girlfriend wouldn’t she already be here congratulating him?

The voice in your head keeps telling you to take the chance. The worst he can do is turn you down, and then you’ll never see him again. You’ll never know if you don’t try. But him being surrounded by his teammates would be hard if you were to ask him for his information. It’s one thing to get rejected, but infront of a group of guys, that’s terrifying.

Should you just follow them and pray he separates from them at some point? Then if that doesn’t happen you’re going to have to suck it up and take the chance of being embarrassed. You trail behind the team as they shout and man handle one another, it’s weird how boys celebrate.

At this point you had no idea where you were, and would have to ask them for directions anyway. Then again they were most likely heading towards the exit. A different volleyball team, that you can’t name for your life, passes infront of you blocking your vision of the crow’s. What the hell? These guys nearly bumped into and didn’t say a word. All you got was a few winks, boys will be boys.

As they move from infront of you, he’s right there. beautiful number nine is leaned over drinking from the fountain while his team walks ahead of him. Shit this is your chance! You practically speed walk to him, not even caring if you look a bit crazy. As he stands up you’re right infront of him, and his eyes widen. Your presence scares him, then nerves grow in his stomach. Why is there a really pretty girl standing so close to me?

You didn’t mean to be so close, you were just determined to get to him before he could possibly walk away. “Hi,” is all you manage to say. Holy shit you look crazy right now, no doubt. “Hi?” He didn’t mean for it to come out rudely, but it definitely did. The boy is just confused is all. He watches the way your face falls a bit and immediately wants to slap himself. “S-Sorry, the tone was an accident.”

“You’re fine. I wanted to congratulate you on your win.” The air is a bit awkward and anxiety is radiating off the both of you. “Oh thank you.” It’s silent now, the awkwardness only intensifying. His team watches from afar, eyeballing you.

“I can remember any hot face, that girl was in the Aobajosai section!” Nishinoya says with a scrunched face. “A cute girl is a cute girl,” Tanaka shrugs. Hinata pushes through his friends so he can see better, and almost laughs at how tense his friend is standing. “Yeah but why is a cute girl talking to Kageyama?”

You take a deep breath and lean back on your feet. It really hadn’t occurred to you what you’d say beyond that, but you had to come up with something. “This may be a weird thing to ask, I don’t know cause i’ve never gone up to a guy like this. I also didn’t think about it as much as I should have-“ you abruptly stop, of course you just had to ramble. He didn’t know what to say, your beauty was intimidating but you can say the same about him.

“I’m y/n by the way, I should have said that first.” You hold out your hand for him to shake, and he takes it. His touch sends electricity through you, and makes your legs weak. One touch and you’re already going crazy, cute guys can be a curse sometimes. “Kageyama.”

You blush once you realize you’ve been holding his hand for way too long. “Sorry if this is weird to ask, but would you wanna, uh, maybe,” gosh you sound crazy, “meet up sometime?” Your immediate thought is he thinks you’re weird. Just now learned of his name and already asking to see him again. But this was your only chance, hopefully he understands that.

Kageyama chokes on the air a bit, totally not believing what’s happening. A pretty girl wants to hang out with him? Make time for him? Yep, this is a dream. He’ll be waking up any second now. His eyes are stuck on you, wide, and his mouth is slightly parted.

“Oh, nevermind. I’m sorry.” He’d been in his head too deep instead of answering your question. Pure embarrassment is on your face. “No, No! I’m sorry, I was just, uh,” he takes a deep breath and puts on a smile, “yes, i’d like to do that sometime.” There’s a huge smile on your face as you pull your phone out, “Well here, put your number in my phone.”

The team nearly yells when they see you hand Kageyama your phone. “I bet he’s giving her his number!” Sugawara says with a smirk on his lips. As soon as Kageyama tells you his goodbyes, he sees his friends nearly jumping up and down. “Did you give her your digits?!” Hinata yells, and you can hear it from where you stand.

A blush creeps onto the setters face, but tries to hide it with an annoyed look. “Mind your business,” is all he says. The boys ruffle at his hair and push him around a bit, making kissy noises all the way to the bus. It doesn’t let up until a few minutes into the ride when everyone’s knocked out. Kageyama’s phone vibrates in his pocket, waking him from his half-asleep state.

Hey, it’s y/n

#kageyama haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! #anime #imagine #love #fanfic #romance #x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama x reader #kageyama x f!reader #kageyama x y/n #kageyama x female reader #kageyama imagine #haikyuu imagine #kageyama fanfic #kageyama fanfiction #kageyama imagines #tobio kageyama #kageyama smut #hinata

[broadwayandnetflix]

Slow Down - Bill Hader x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: Fluff + 1/4 of Angst

Summary:  Hi I’ve literally been binging all of your fics and I didn’t know if you were still taking requests, but I was wondering if I could request an imagine with Bill Hader where the reader is sick and passes out at SNL and Bill helps them and takes them home

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Ahh thank you so much for your patience @bduchrnskei​ I really hope you enjoy this fic and it met your prompt expectations. I absolutely loved writing this one amongst all of my evil schoolwork, but what can you do? 

Living in a small-sized New York City apartment was not all that it’s cracked up to be. Whether it’s the heavy traffic and clutter of construction that never halts or the extreme temperatures during any season.

In this case, in particular, winter.

Or, more specifically, in this case, your heater broke, and it had become like an iceberg within your apartment space. As stated by your landlord, the repairmen were supposed to come on Saturday night, and as of right now, it was Thursday.

So bundling up had to do, in a way, you kind of missed the heater’s incessant rattling, as it had become a sort of a white noise these last few months.

You hadn’t been in New York City for very long, a little under a year, maybe? It wasn’t like you to pack up and move randomly to the Big Apple, but after clearing a spot as a new cast member with Saturday Night Live. It was most certainly a must.

Ever since you were little, you’d always had a knack for making others laugh or just getting to see someone smile. Saturday Night Live became your goal, and to secure it was like winning a million dollars. Even if it meant having to endure New York’s extreme seasonal changes.

This week was no different in the typical workflow; you were technically a new cast member. So the number of sketches you had been in was significantly limited. Still, you loved it nonetheless, with the lack of skits that you had been in lately allowed you to get to know your cast members more.

Specifically, your other recurring cast members like Nasim Pedrad and Jenny Slate, the three of you would often meet up for coffee on Sundays. Taking the time to decompress and discuss your favorite sketches of the week. It was nice to have a group of people you could relate to and find solace in, especially when the weeks became stressful or exhausting.

And oh boy, did your week’s become exhausting, especially on Saturdays. You shuddered at the thought of dress rehearsal as it stretched late into the night; losing sleep was worth the excitement.

You looked at the clock, it was nearing close to four in the morning, and you still had been awake at this point. Maybe it was the cold or the thousands of thoughts swirling through your mind, much like the snow accumulating outside.

Work was gonna be a bitch tomorrow.

You sneezed at the thought, sighed, and made sure to set your alarm before letting sleep take over.

-

You awoke with a headache and a blaring alarm that was erupting from your phone. Groaning, you shut the phone off and tried to ignore the incessant pain protruding from your forehead.

Swallowing some painkillers, you got dressed, grabbed your keys, and headed to work. Totally not picking up a coffee and a breakfast sandwich on the way.

“Why good morning Y/N!” Jenny chirped as you walked into the room, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“You sound oddly chipper, what happened?” you said as you put down your stuff, eyeing her curiously.

“She got some sleep, that’s what happened.” Nasim replied, nursing a cup of coffee in her hands, giving you a sleepy smile.

“Lucky duck,” you murmured, instinctively reaching for your coffee as well. It coated your throat nicely, you sighed in content.

Jenny only smirked before starting up another conversation with Nasim; you let your eyes wander across the room. Everyone in motion, working hard to make sure shit got done. That’s the thing about working at 30 Rock; no one ever really stopped moving.

One thing that you still had not gotten used to was Monday’s. The grueling and exhausting twenty-four hour stretch period of planning and concocting up sketches. It was a scary feeling, as if you could ever compare to everyone else.

Every now and then, a pitch you threw into the ball pit would get picked, the tiny butterflies in your stomach reminding you why you did what you did.

Your eyes landed on a particular figure as he strolled into the room. His hair beautifully tousled, eyes half-open, and shirt resting ever so comfortably upon his chest. You diverted your eyes quickly, only to feel yourself begin to sneeze.

Fuck, for the love of all that’s holy, please do not sneeze in front of Hader.... too late.

He looked up, meeting your widened eyes, and gave you a soft smile. It lingered for a bit until Andy swept up from behind and hugged him along by the arm. For a second, you could’ve sworn he was gonna look back, but Andy had appeared to say something.

“Bless you!” Nasim and Jenny said in unison.

You mouthed thanks and leaned back against the wall, replaying the scene over and over again.

“Thinking about Hader again?” Jenny asked, following your line of sight, as she nudged you in the side playfully.

“Jenny! Not too loud, he might hear you.” you frantically whispered, a stern look aglow in your eyes.

“Oh honey, it’s so obvious.” Nasim chimed in, Jenny nodding eagerly in response.

“Plus he’s too far away, you’re more than safe Y/N, I think it’s cute that you like him. All the more reason to make fun of you.” Jenny says quickly before she is shoved by Nasim.

“I’m joking! I’m joking! Okay maybe not fully joking.” Jenny yelps, giving you a wicked grin.

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your eyes in embarrassment. It was so bad, crushing on cast members, but man, was he handsome. Although you had denied it, a lot of your favorite sketches from the past weeks always seemed to involve Hader.

It was not like it was gonna go anywhere; you two barely spoke, and plus you’d probably be a mess if you did. Every now and then, though, you’d often find Hader sitting beside you at table reads. His laugh is always so goddamn infectious, and Jenny and Nasim eyeing you playfully like schoolgirls.

God, you were a mess, and it seemed like everyone knew it. Maybe even Hader knew; let’s hope he doesn’t.

“You know Y/N, I’ve never seen Hader as shy as he is when he’s around you. I mean the man literally sniffed my hair yesterday,” you quirk a brow, “But- but with you, he’s soft” Nasim’s voice crowds your thoughts, and you instantly look up to meet her in disbelief.

“Bullshit.” you retort, trying to ignore whatever attempt she was trying to make.

“Girl, you’ve kind of got a point. He’s not as jokey as he usually is whenever he’s around you Y/N.” Jenny adds, only to be interrupted by Lorne calling for a meeting.

Ah, how could you forget? Dress Rehearsal. While these days didn’t run as long as the others, they were equally draining and stressful. The three of you walked to Lorne’s office just in time as the rest of the cast stood beside you.

You felt yourself to begin to shiver unexpectedly, hugging yourself tightly. Since when was 30 Rock so cold? You felt Nasim look at you questioningly, and you shrugged her off.

Lorne had discussed the skits’ arrangements for the day, murmurs of excitement beginning to spread like wildfire around the room. Everyone just itches to get out and see if their sketch would succeed or bomb.

You took your seat in the audience as the sketches would come and go, meeting your cues whenever necessary. At the same time, your painkillers had seemed to wear off as your headache only seemed to get worse.

You made your way backstage to find the building’s first aid kit, only to brush past another coworker. That just so happened to be Bill Hader.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out, slowly clamping it shut; his eyes met yours in slight confusion before softening slightly.

“Woah, hey Y/N, everything okay? You were in kind of a hurry there.” he asks; you could barely meet his eyes as they searched yours for any sort of response.

“Oh,” you gulped, “Yeah I just have this crazy headache, um I was just looking for the first aid kit.” you say, shifting the balance on your one foot to the other. 

His eyes widened before nodding quickly as if he was just reminded of something. The butterflies in your stomach crescendo as he quickly rested his palm upon your shoulder. You didn’t even know how to act, your body practically freezing at the contact.

“Actually to save you the trouble I have some painkillers upstairs in my dressing room. Not that I have like tons of drugs, but it’s no problem with me if that’ll help your headache.”

You quickly nod in response, trying to hide back a small smile before following him up several flights of stairs. God, you hated being so shy around Bill; it wasn’t like he was some mean old jerk; he was oh so genuine and thoughtful.

The two of you halt at a labeled Hader door; he looks back at you almost to check if you’re still there. Opening the door, he led you in, giving you a quick smirk, before crouching down and digging through the contents of his bag.

You had realized that this was the first time that you had ever been in a specific cast member’s dressing room. In particular, Hader’s room was neat and tidy, but you could see bits and pieces of his character sticking out. You couldn’t help but smile at it all, so caught up in the intricate details you didn’t even notice him get back up.

“Y/N, you good?” he asks; you focus your attention back on him quickly.

His hands outstretched, one holding a bottle of Advil and the other clamped tightly around a water bottle.

“Oh, um yeah. Thank you so much you have no idea how much I appreciate you for doing this.” you say rather quickly, but Hader doesn’t seem phased by your awkward nature.

You reach for the bottle and water, fingers gently brushing against his. The two of you looking down at the contact before parting ways.

Hader clears his throat, and you feel your stomach begin to tighten. Slipping two pills into your mouth, you unscrew the cap and down it carefully.

“You nervous about tomorrow?” he asks while placing the pill bottle back within his bag.

“A little I guess, I mean I tend to get nerves closer to the show. I’m sure at this point though, you’ve become an expert at staying calm.” you reply, his gaze falling towards the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m a wreck Y/N. This show is so stressful it eats at me every week, no matter what. I mean, clearly I’m doing something right and Lorne’s not gonna fire me, but, my anxiety gets so bad.” he says quickly. His eyes widened, and his posture became slightly tenser than before.

You couldn’t help but soften your gaze; you had no idea that he even went through this every week. Even now, with the buzzing tension in the air for tomorrow night, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through. Let alone the fact that he made the time to help you out.

“I wouldn’t have ever noticed,” he looks back up at you. “I mean, you’ve always just looked so...confident. I just can’t even begin to imagine what’s that like, every week constantly. I’m so sorry you have to go through that.” you quietly admit.

He shakes his head quickly, putting out a hand almost as if he was trying to stop you.

“No, no, it’s fine. Thank you though, it’s awfully sweet to hear that. Especially from someone like you.” Hader’s eyes filled with such warmth.

Was Hader blushing? Or were you losing it? Probably losing it.

“Oh about that headache, everything okay up in there?” he murmurs, stepping just a tad bit closer to you.

“It’s probably nothing, but I do appreciate the help.” you look back at the door, “We should probably get back? Right? Don’t wanna miss our dress.” you say quickly.

Hader nods within an instant, eyes widening at the realization of how long you two had been gone for. He led you to the door, giving you a quick smile before he ran out, murmuring something about a skit that had something to do with the guest host.

You giggle softly, heaving a contented sigh. It definitely was gonna be a long day, and you could’ve sworn that the temperature had just dropped.

Strange.

-

You couldn’t have stumbled into it until at least one in the morning, but sleep had been desperately calling your name. Oh, how you missed having a regular sleep schedule; it would make mornings less of a struggle.

Except this morning was different, or more so than you were used to. The headache that had arrived less than twenty-four hours earlier was now ten times worse. Your body ached, and you couldn’t decipher if the bed was too hot or too cold.

This was torture, and quite possibly the flu, not to mention, you had the show tonight, shit. You practically sprang upwards before feeling the instant aftermath of that decision settling in. It felt absolutely criminal to leave those sheets as you groaned and grimaced your way towards your kitchen cabinet. Eyes barely opened while you blindly searched for the thermometer you had kept.

One quick temperature check later, you were running a low-grade fever. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I mean, you couldn’t miss the show, right? It just didn’t seem plausible, or maybe it did?

You frantically wondered while your fingers grazed over the Google search bar whether going to work with a low-grade fever would be beneficial?

Every answer didn’t really seem to fit the unrealistic expectations that you had set for yourself. Still, one disgusting shot of Dayquil later, you were out the door.

The day went by in a haze, and the headache never really did seem to falter. It was almost like yesterday in a sense, but seeing Hader waltz into the room made you smile. He smiled back.

Of course, Jenny and Nasim knew something was up; they always did. It wasn’t like Lorne was gonna fire you for missing one show; it was the flu. Except, you had made it this far, how bad could it possibly go?

-

The lights were too bright, far too bright for you to even think properly, and your fever was sure burning up. Or maybe it wasn’t, you always had to ask others around for that sorta assistance. Except, this was the primary night of the week and you weren’t gonna ask a cast member to feel your forehead.

Imagine if Hader did, Y/N, please stop being a dork.

You found solace in a large water bottle, but it didn’t do much to help the way your body ached miserably. You looked like a mess, you felt like a mess, but this was the big leagues.

The last time you had checked, the previous performance of the musical guest had been underway. Which meant you had survived, but the exhaustion that had been ever-growing was begging for you to lay down.

The floor looked so good right now, yeah, just for a hot second, ugh why is everything burning up?

Slowly closing your eyes, you let yourself press up against the wall, except there wasn’t a wall right there, and down you went with a thud.

-

Bill had been anxious all night, of course for the show, but for you in particular. You usually always looked so put-together, but tonight something about you was just off. It was beginning to rub him the wrong way.

“Andy, do you notice anything strange about, um, Y/N over there?” he said, trying to muffle the concerned edge that rested within his voice.

“Y/N? Oh that new cast member you like?” Andy replied without much thought, earning a stern look from Hader.

“She’ll hear you, god man you sure can be loud. Whatever, she just looks kind of off man, I’m a little nervous for her.”

Andy’s gaze softened just a tad until something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

“I mean normally I would say that she looks fine and you’re just crushing, but I don’t think that is normal.” Bill’s gaze instantly locked onto the same thing, which was you fainting onto the floor.

His body going rigid before ultimately bolting upright, he wasn’t gonna catch you in time. Still, he definitely was gonna help if he could. Although he most definitely wasn’t the only one, other stray coworkers who happened to be backstage stood, jaws dropped.

There you went, tumbling to the ground, and Bill couldn’t help but feel his heart drop. Maybe that headache was worse than you had let up. He felt guilty for not speaking up sooner, but there was nothing he could do now.

They called a medic on the site, trying to keep it discreet as possible. It was a live show; he didn’t think it would be professional if broadcasted that shit.

He tried to fill in all of the details of how you had been acting the past few hours. It felt like he couldn’t do much to help, but he didn’t wanna leave your sight. It was odd; something about you really drew him in, leaving him reaching for more.

Plus, at this point, the last thing he had to do was go on stage while they rolled the credits. Bill was optimistic that this would count as a good reason.

He watched anxiously while the medic’s placed you upon a stretcher, his feet following without much thought. They wheeled you out to a waiting ambulance; he gulped at the thought of you having to be taken to the hospital.

Surprisingly they allowed him inside the ambulance; he was so convinced he’d be forced to wait until god knows how long. The vehicle provided seats off the side, allowing him to catch his breath and try not to worry about his current state.

That is until he saw you looking back groggily at him; now, this was definitely normal, as the medic had explained. He just didn’t see it coming; you blinked a few times, looking around at your surroundings.

-

“Hey, saw you took a little snooze there.” he teased, his gaze never leaving yours.

The ambulance rattled slightly, and you gasped a little before focusing your attention back onto him.

“Is this an ambulance? What happened?” you sat upright, feeling ten times worse, trying to piece together precisely why you and Bill Hader, of all people, were in the ambulance?

“Y/N, you fainted. The doctor’s said you’re burning up, they’re taking you to the ER.” he explained carefully, as you groaned in frustration.

He cocked his head slightly, clearly not expecting that response.

“About that, yeah I think I have the flu, I had a low-grade fever this morning.” you admitted sheepishly, not even daring to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry what?” he exclaimed, his eyes as wide as literal saucers. “Lemme get this straight, you went to work, with the flu?” you nodded, and he ran his hands over his face.

“Listen, I didn’t wanna disappoint Lorne. I mean it’s the night of all nights.” the words came out softer than you had intended; Hader practically melted.

“Oh, did you really think that Lorne’s gonna get pissed at you for having the flu? Oh sweetie, you know your health comes first right?” his words falling ever so sweetly off his lips.

You could barely look at the man, let alone control the multitude of butterflies that jolted in your already queasy stomach. Not to mention that he even thought to tag along, you nodded, not saying a word, focusing on his blue eyes like they were a safety net. Until you closed them, letting sleep overtake you.

-

You awoke once more to the sounds of machines beeping, people going from room to room, and an incessant tapping of one’s shoe.

This was most definitely the emergency room, your eyes scanning its surroundings until they landed on one person in particular. He looked exhausted, more so than you did, and you felt awful given the time it was at night. In fact, it was practically morning.

“You’re still here,” he sat upright, rubbing his eyes, “Thanks for sticking it out, Bill.” you tried to give him the most genuine smile you could possibly muster.

“Of course, I mean I overheard the doctor anyway. You’re cleared to go when you wake up, and definitely have to get some rest. I already spoke to Lorne.” you gaped, but he only stood up.

“Bill, what did he say?” you whisper.

“That you should listen to the doctor, and me.” you raised a brow. “Okay maybe he didn’t say me, but you get the point?” he exclaimed as he helped you get out of the bed.

The two of you walking towards the desk in which you had to sign out some papers, the pen unsteadily perched upon your fingers. Bill’s hand holding securely upon your back, in hopes you wouldn’t stumble. In reality, just being near him set your heart aflutter.

“Now I’m taking you home, but first I was thinking I could get you some soup for home. That sound good?” you could only look at the man in pure awe.

“You don’t have to do this Bill, really, I mean you’ve already done enough.” you gulped, only to see the man give you a smirk, his eyes glinting at you mischievously.

“Soup it is.” his hand clamping against yours, he led you out of the hospital and into the cold streets of New York City.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to reach the little soup shop he’d been talking about; it was cozy and apparently open twenty-four seven. Against his offer, you paid for two soups that looked the most delicious and cupped the cups while strolling back to your place.

“How do you think you got the flu?” he asked gently, looking at you with curiosity.

You had to try not to laugh; I mean, at this point, it was your fault, you subjected yourself to the tundra in your bedroom for the past few nights.

“Well, my heater has been broken for the past few nights. I assume that’s how I got it.” a smile aglow upon your face, giggling at Hader’s shocked expression.

“It better be fixed tonight when we get to your apartment complex. That’s ridiculous, Y/N.” you kept giggling, and soon he joined in with that gorgeous laugh of his.

You enjoyed your time with Hader even though internally you felt like shit; he made it so much more bearable. The air was light between the two of you, he made it easy to open up, and you wanted to know so much about him.

God, wait till you let Nasim and Jenny know about this night. They’re so gonna flip; you just knew it. Not to mention, the big looming ‘I told you so’ that was so coming your way.

“This is it.” he came to a halt, admiring the quaint little building that you happened to call home.

“You do know I’m not leaving until that heater is back on, right?” he ordered, but underneath his serious tone, you could see the concern.

“Oh come on Hader, let’s go see.”

The two of you taking the steps at a time, your body wanting to collapse, but you couldn’t let him know. He stood beside you while you inserted your keys into the lock, twisting it, before walking inside.

“What’s that rattling noise?” Hader wondered aloud.

A huge grin meeting your lips, you looked at him in pure delight, and he soon got the memo. His eyes widening before heaving a sigh of relief, only to halt.

“You call me if you need anything okay? Get some sleep, and um, stay warm. That’s an order, you hear me?” you could see his performance wavering as he tried desperately not to laugh.

“Yes, Sir.” you saluted weakly, but he only began to break instantly.

You really did love that laugh.

Thanks, Bill, for everything, really.” you said as he turned to head to the door, stepping up on your toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

His face instantly turned red before trying to compose himself as he walked away. You watched while he left the residence, giving you one last smile.

-

You awoke in a drowsy stupor that next morning to a text message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Want me to bring you some coffee and breakfast? - btw, this is Bill. Hope this l wasn’t too creepy. I ain’t no stalker.

Maybe: Bill: ps. How do you like your coffee?

Bill: ps.s yes or no?

You fell back on the bed with such a shit-eating grin, only to groan in response to the mistake you had just made.

You: Yes 

#@broadwayandnetflix #bill hader imagine #bill hader x reader #bill hader x you #bill hader #fluff #angst #snl #Saturday Night Live #andy samberg #nasim pedrad #jenny slate #2021

[bakedcrispers]

Show Me How To Love You

seasons 6-7

warnings: implied smut, slight angst, big crossbow man hormones 😔✌

[ gif's not mine! ]

--

Gray smoke danced around the porch of the house as Daryl sat idle on its oak stairs, his eyes snaking aimlessly around the streets as he spiraled deep in his thoughts. He remembers every bit of detail that happened, and he couldn't seem to keep his mind out of it.

It just kept coming back.

His hands travel feverishly along warming glistening flesh, tender skin sliding smoothly among his palms and lips as he took his time in exploring a pulchritudinous figure. His head was fogged and hazed, completely under the spell of the melodic sounds bouncing through the thin walls of the room. He felt full. The buzzing of his chest drummed and pounded throughout his torso the more he bit, leaving purple marks along those lips he adored so damn much.

His mouth dragged and dragged, exhaling through the unforgiving breeze as he tried desperately hard not to shift around his spot. He could feel his body slacking the more he stared, the tiredness gradually getting to him as he sat. God, he was so worn out; yet at the same time, he didn't have the courage to go back in there, lay down, and dream about it again.

He'd go crazy.

Nails scratched his back roughly, piercing up and down at a constant painful pace. He scrutinized every move and bounce, traveling down the deliciously pinned body underneath his figure as he treated you as gently as he could. Hair sprawled, face wet, lips apart and heaving; your euphoria was greatly highlighted under the hues of the moon, and all he could do was gawk at it. Daryl couldn't help but admire it.

"Goddamnit." He could feel his cheeks heating up at the thought, and he couldn't seem to rid it of his brain. It had been preserved exclusively to torment him out his mind later on, and he fucking hates it. "Stupid attractive nurse and her stupid fuckin' smile." Daryl grumbles in vexation, but a part of him knew he didn't exactly mind it - he didn't mind the thought of you being implanted permanently inside his restless brain, residing in his mind rent-free.

Feelings have never been so hard to control.

"Can't sleep?" The tender timbre of your voice abruptly wakes him up from the intrusive images in his head, and almost instantly he sat up straight, his drowsiness disappearing altogether; though, your presence provided not an ounce of aid to his ever-lingering issues.

"I'm a'ight." Daryl grunts his usual reply, avoiding any type of eye-contact towards you. It took everything of his strength not to twist his body to face you fully, nor even look at your face right now. He just couldn't bring himself to talk to you when all he could think of was.. those nights.

And much to his fucking luck, you shuffled your way to him, making yourself comfy on the empty space beside him. "You always say that when you aren't." You snarked, a knowing grin illuminated on your face, staring at him for a little longer than he anticipated as you talked. You already had him read.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Daryl found himself snorting quietly at your little quip, his dark tresses swaying along as he shook his head in disbelief. He wouldn't trade his thoughts even for a goddamn gold bar. He'd rather die than to expose the explicitness of his head out to you, of all people.

"You can keep yer goddamn penny, I ain't thinkin' o' nothin', sunshine." He didn't mean to snap, but the way his head felt a sudden haziness definitely contributed something to his sudden outburst.

Nonetheless, you didn't budge; instead, you pressed on with much vigor, a light expression on your face as you did so. "Are you thinking of a person?" Your eyes soften, and Daryl didn’t know whether to relax his shoulder at the sight of your face or tense them at your question. 

You wistfully continued, "Like.. you think of them so much that it just starts to be a real problem?"

Exactly his fucking problem.

"Nah. I ain't' ever think of people like tha'." He answers almost too quickly, the lie slipping down a little too smoothly to his absolute horror. Daryl, however, was completely aware of what he was experiencing — completely present on his stupid issues, and he hated that you somehow wriggled your way to be the main root of all his dilemmas. Even so, Daryl was curious.

"Who're ya thinkin' about?" He diverts the topic towards you, trying not to let his discomfort fly into view, even though it’s probably already so obvious.

You chuckle, eyes crinkling at him. "I didn't say I was thinking about someone, Daryl." You lightheartedly taunted, and he fought back the heat that rushed up to his face, caught up with words as he struggled to gather a reply. You got him tongue-tied: again. Before he could retort his defense, you were quick to cut him off, placing a hand on his thigh with a playful shake of your head.

"I was just kidding, Daryl. I was thinking about someone." The soft grin on your lips encourages Daryl to relax beside you, but his heart continues to hammer in harsh beats, surely causing a tinge of pain throughout his chest.

It sure did.

All he could do was vocalize a grunt, wanting you to continue without explicitly voicing his words out of his throat. He felt embarrassed to ask, feeling like he was being pushy about the topic — intruding, even; but fortunately for him, you follow right after, as casual as you were.

"Been thinking about this amazing guy recently."

Daryl's brows unknowingly furrowed, a swirl of discomfort residing inside his stomach. "A guy?"

"Yeah? What? I can't dream of love?" You joke with a face full of blithe, shining almost as bright as the goddamn stars in his perspective.

He snorts a reply, "Nah, ain't sayin' that." The archer then sheepishly shrugged. "Just - just didn't think you'd get worried 'bout som'n like that, 'is'all." He finishes gently, catching your eye for a second before looking back down on the ground, lips pursed and his fingers laced together.

"Really?" You raised your brow at him in an amused manner, another chuckle bubbling out of you as you playfully jabbed his side with your elbow. "Would've never thought you'd take me as a responsible and sensible type, Dixon."

He could only roll his eyes, but his lips quirked up to a tiny grin, his baby blues shining in mirth as your energy radiated even under the cold of the night. "Never said that either."

"But you hinted at it." You sang with a grin, childishly wiggling your brows at him as you swing your legs back and forth. “Ya’ big softie.“

How could he even resist the urge to fucking smile?

You were just so infectious to Daryl, and everything about you was amazing to him — a huge enigma that he wants to explore all over and over again. He’d never get tired of you; he could never.

Sure, there was a part of Daryl that screamed, cursed, and tore apart whoever this guy was that you were dazed over in the jealous corners of his mind, but he refrained himself from doing any physical reaction; for the sake of his dignity and sanity, especially when he’s in front of you.

"Wanna talk about it?" Daryl broke his silence with a quiet exhale, releasing more of the smoke to color the air around him, without much of a care in the world.

You didn't spare him a glance and continued to stare straight ahead, your lips twisting up to a content smile. The archer rose a brow, trying to figure you out, but nothing in his mind was deemed helpful to scan your thoughts; all of them ending up to be a loud meaningless static, one that he couldn't quite figure out yet.

"Ya' deaf or som'n?" He grumbles, impatient, and nervous. It took Daryl some self-control not to practically bite his nails off his hands while you just beamed at him like some damn gorgeous nymph. He felt vulnerable, and he didn't know how to feel about it. He certainly felt attacked though. 

"Not deaf, silly. I’m just surprised you don't know him yet." You finally say, your eyes glowing in mischief as you laughed. "I thought it was pretty obvious. I mean all those nights, those talks, those.." You trailed off, and Daryl almost regretted catching sight of the look that you just gave him, breath stuck in his throat as he watched your tongue swipe across your bottom lip. 

Daryl shivered as he could feel your eyes dangle from his lips down to his exposed neck, drinking every change of pigment along his skin, where all your points were made and proudly done. He could tell by the look on your face that you were seething with pride; but at the same time, you were looking at him so lovingly. Daryl didn’t know what to do, sweating and freezing under your deep scrutiny. “Those… wha’?“ He gulps the courage to return your gaze, almost immediately feeling his throat grow even drier with each second he stared at your adoring hues that maintained strong contact with his.

You huff at him, brows furrowed but your lips were quirked up. “Playing dumb, huh?“ You whistled, gently bumping your shoulders against his, electricity coursing through him as your bare skin clashed with his cold ones. “From how frozen you are right now, I’m guessing you don’t really want me to dive deep into it?“

"It’s a mistake, Y/N.“ Daryl finally takes the courage to speak up, face beet red as he looks at anything but your face. “We didn’t know the hell we’re doin’.” He grumbled, his voice drenched with every ounce of regret and shame he could ever carry from that night alone. He just didn’t think it felt right to him. Those nights were only used to pour those unwanted feelings and emotions out, Daryl thought, It didn’t mean shit.

It shouldn’t.

With shoulders slacked, the archer completely isolates himself away from you in an attempt of just shutting down from the conversation altogether. He never even thought of talking about it with you, thinking you’d just pass over him and forget about it over time; that you’d just drown out his existence after you were done using him as some fucking stress outlet.

Not that he had complaints in the first place.

“It wasn’t a mistake, Daryl.“ You murmured sincerely, your eyes maintaining that soft, adoring look that you’ve reserved for him since the beginning. “At least for me it wasn’t.“ You follow with a wholehearted grin that immediately sent his heart beating and hammering against his searing chest. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me.“

“Ya’ don’ know what yer talkin’ ‘bout, sunshine.“ Daryl scoffed, perilous eyes snapping at you with a mix of disbelief and distrust. “Yer delirious.“ He didn’t want to believe it; he refused to. You deserved more than just some filthy, asshole of a feral redneck in your life. You deserved men like Rick;

A part of him wanted to believe you — to tell you what he really felt, but as always:

He doesn’t know how.

Slightly shaking the hair out of his face, he continues in defeat, "Look, ya’ deserve someone better, Y/N.“ His words were filled with nothing but bitterness, but he knew it was true. “I ain’ tha’ someone, an’—“ He pauses, taking a long drag of his cigarette before fixating his eyes down the ground under him. “I ain’ any better.“

Daryl took a long drag of his smoke before standing up, not entirely wanting to be in this conversation anymore. He didn't want to hear you spew out any more words that would just draw him back in; make him believe that he'd ever had that honor to just call you his for the rest of his life. "You should get some rest, Y/N." He spoke softly, hating to have to shut you down so quickly, but it was for the best. Daryl couldn't bring himself to be with you after all he's been through.

"What's stopping you?"

He doesn't deserve you.

Your words were left hanging around an air of tension, the archer completely still on his track as your soft tone struck him like a rain of bricks. He nervously chewed on his lips, fighting the urge to just blurt everything out to you in one go — to tell you everything racing in his damn head.

"Stopping.. what..?" His voice was quiet and unsure, almost as if he was scared to hear what you were about to say next.

More silence came from your part, and Daryl could hear his heart moving wilder and wilder the more you remained unresponsive to his reply. Nothing but your quiet shuffles rustling through the crisp air of the night was to be heard while Daryl tries to distract himself by fiddling with the tips of his gnawed out fingers. He knew he wanted to settle back with you — be close to you even, but his brain was holding him back from even trying to; afraid that he'd end up as nothing more but a piece of meat.

You were better than that, and he knows, but a tiny part of him was doubtful of your future, and he had every right to be. With winter coming along and scarcity of resources following painfully behind, there were many more things to be worried about than his stupid high school feelings.

"What's stopping you from loving me?"

Daryl pursed his lips into a thin line. This was something that you've also asked him the night before, your bare body pressed against his chest while you snuggled under the late sky. He could barely get any word out to give you a proper answer. But even during times like those, Daryl could never tear his eyes off of you. You were drowsy, tired from the night’s activities, but you never seem to get restless of his scattered thoughts and feelings; you always tried your best to understand and communicate with him, but as always, Daryl remained nonchalant — almost as if he couldn't hear you amongst everything.

He was being unfair.

Eyes squeezed shut, knuckles white, jaws clenched — He's gotta drop and let you know.

"I.. I don' know how to love ya', Y/N." He confessed softly; ashamed that he couldn't give you the love that he wanted you to have — love that only people who weren't broken can give. "I.. I don' know how to love ya' like.. like how Glenn or Rick does." He croaks weakly. "They do it so easy, but I just fuckin'.. can't."

His frustration was evident, yet his head was facing the ground, not wanting to have you catch the longing and bitter look that he had on his stormy blue eyes.

"Daryl." His eyes slowly snaps towards the direction of your voice, lips trembling slightly as your cold palms brushed and settled on his reddened cheeks.

"I didn't follow you everywhere with the hopes of finding the same love that men like Rick or Glenn can give in you. I didn't go out of my way to be your run partner just to seduce you and jump on your lap. I'm with you because you make me happy, and you make me feel loved in the warmest way possible."

He watched your lips effortlessly mouth the words out to him as if you were reciting a ballad specially made only for his ears to reach.

"You don't have to show me or the others that you love me, Dixon, because I already know that you do." Your hold on his face tightens, and so did Daryl's heart as he watched you send a loving smile up at him. "You don't have to hide from me, Daryl. You don't have to be scared about not being able to compete with others because no matter what, you're the only damn thing I see."

It may take some time, but your words truly have impacted him more than he anticipated. There were moments where he'd thoroughly savor and indulge himself on your touch and with your words, letting himself loose within the security of your arms; this was one of those times.

"Damn it, sunshine." He curses quietly, breathless over how something as enchanting as you could ever be real — how even did he manage to capture you in his life?

He builds the courage to meet you in the eye, his heart singing at the sight of your eyes holding adoration only for him. "Hitting me with the cheesy shit again, huh."

Your grin widens, prompting his own smile to stretch along with yours. "Want to know how to love, Dixon?"

Even when his surroundings dim, you continue being a light above all things cynical in his life. You were his guide; an angel sent to him by whatever fate exist in the world. You were surreal, and if he could wish for more of you, he would do so in a heartbeat.

"Show me."

You're the only thing he sees.

--

a/n: OMG?? HI?? ITS BEEN A WHILE?MNDJEJE IM SORRY FOR THE INACTIVITY! schoolwork has been catching up and i have also been sick for the past few days! have this lil oneshot friends 💞💖 all you'll ever see in this blog is longing and yearning so kekeke prepare urself >:D

taglist: @pulplorrd @impala-1979 @twdeadlysins @greginaries @pastanest @thanossexual @taikawho

[ if you want to be added in the taglist, just send an ask baybees 💞! ]

#IM BACK? KINDA? #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #amc the walking dead #amc twd #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #reader insert #the walking dead imagine #twd imagine #imagine #prompt #daryl x reader imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #oneshot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon prompt #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #fanfiction #xreader #gender neutral

[spnsmile]

Happy?

Monday prompt: BET #SpnsStayatHome

@pray4jensen​ @bend-me-shape-me​ @helianthus21​ @verobatto-angelxhunter​

Castiel leaving Dean to babysit Jack for a few hours comes back to find Dean declaring something utterly ridiculous as—

“I’m going to make you happy!”

This after Jack casually praises Dean not only for being a very good hunter but also an expert hustler, baby driver, fisher, the best chef in the Bunker and just about everything Jack also wants to become (though not really a making of a very good role model), still made Dean feel so good about himself which was rare because in the Bunker— between him and his brother— these are all essential stuff they needed under their sleeves and he thinks Cas barely cares about trivial stuff so Dean appreciates the kid’s honesty because kids never lie.

Until the catch when the boy mentions something in lines of, “Except, you can’t make Cas happy,” making Dean’s eyebrows twitch.

“Excuse me? I can’t make Cas…happy? Did Cas tell you this? That I don’t make him happy?”

“No, but he doesn’t need to say anything. He is not happy, that’s—"

“Wait, you’re telling me I can’t make Cas happy?”

“I think you can’t do that.”

“Even if I’m hilarious?” it has gone very serious.

Actually, Jack means the deal with the Empty but Dean still ignorant of context naturally heard it differently. He heard it like a taunt a challenge on his ability. No one ever challenges Dean without the consequences for even doubting le Dean Winchester! Excuse his French, but he can do anything he put his mind into—and just like that when the angel finally returns from his errand as if summoned, Dean studies him very carefully wondering when the last time Cas’ smile muscles were ever used.

“Cas, you ever been happy?”

Castiel freezes like Dean just told him there’s no such thing as profound bond and continues to look like Dean just gutted him when Dean looks him square in the eyes.

“Happy. I am asking if you’ve ever been happy?”

Eyes widening with a frantic look that seems so out of place from a very simple question, Castiel dwindles. He glances at Jack’s direction searchingly before running the tip of his tongue on his chapped lips.

“Um… why?”

“Ah, shit.” Scraping sound of the chair on the floor as it gets pushed back, Dean stands up tall before the angel, dead flicker on his eyes.

“What—why?”  Cas looks taken aback when Dean turns his heels and walks away. Exchanging a confused looked with Jack, the angel runs after him. “D-Dean, what?”

“You should have said something.”

“About what?” voice quivers a little but no one pauses to check as they drag the conversation to the corridor, possibly aiming for a door to shut on the angel’s face, but Cas doesn’t wait for that so he pulls Dean’s arm back.

“Dean—”

“You not being happy, alright?” annoyance not equal to the hunter’s troubled handsome face. Castiel quickly steps on Dean’s space in concern.

“I don’t understand. What’s my happiness got to do with you?” again with the quiver on the voice.

Dean rolls his eyes heavenward. “ I’m not supposed to ask if my best friend if he is happy?”

Castiel shakes his head, lost for words, nothing to describe his shock at the turn of events. Dean returns it with guilt realizing how the ocean blues eyes always there when he is in dire need, those blues he considers so precious to behold have never expressed real joy since it’s fall. Just always stormy anger and determination to fulfill tasks after tasks season per season beneath the blues of the sky.

But never joy. Well, one time with that burger… Dammit. But then…

An idea suddenly occurs to Dean.

“Cas, I’ve never been a good friend to you—”

“That’s not—“

“No, hear me out. I really suck, I know—”

“Dean—” reprimanding, not right to say.

 “I always make you angry—”

 “Um… okay…” a slow take.

“I always get on your bad side—”

“That is true.” Approving this time.

“I annoy you most of the time—”

Castiel just nods not even trying to stop him now.

Dean glares. “Of course, you realize what this means, do you?”

“Um…” Castiel squints, remembering the Bugs Bunny line Dean always repeats when they watch the loony tunes together, “…war?”

“I’m gonna make you happy,” Dean says with relished determination.

Then true apprehension sets in. The angel saw it in his eyes.

Castiel gulps. “Please, don’t.”

Can’t make Cas happy? You wanna bet?

Three days passed since then. The Bunker remained at peace, oblivious to the upcoming storm. Dean was busy in his room while Castiel can only wait in vain. He becomes apprehensive every time Dean walks into the kitchen or the library or in his general vicinity. Except Dean only smiles at him and do absolutely nothing.

It begins with a text.

Dean smiles to himself in the kitchen with Sam drinking his coffee, Jack opposite him when Castiel’s familiar light steps come bounding from the corridor.

“Dean…”

Sam turns to the angel from his laptop, “Hey, Cas—get this—”

“Dean, you sent me a good morning text.” Cas says urgently, following Dean to the stainless kitchen worktable like he’s afraid Dean would vanish from thin air. Dean who’s wearing a gray calico apron on top of his dark green shirt, sleeves pulled up to his elbows and a very charming look on his face when they stand opposite each other with the angel holding his phone like it’s the bible.

Dean leans both hands on the table, smirking. “So?”

“There’s an emoji text… with a heart.”  Cas insists like it’s very important that they understand and make it clear. Sam stares up quietly from one to another. Dean only smirks and shrugs like he’s teasing the overly reacting angel from a trivial text.

“There’s more where that came from, you just wait this afternoon, Cas.” Winks the hunter like it’s allowed to look even prettier in the morning with his beautifully shaped lopsided smirk playfully turning up as the angel helplessly stares in his direction.

Castiel’s eyes widen.

Oh, but that’s just the beginning.

“Dean, why are you thinking about me?”

Cas’ says from the other line of the phone with voice deep and sounding uncomfortable to Dean who’s currently driving the impala after a successful hunt for the day. Cas was left to babysit Jack in the Bunker while Dean took care of the ghouls in Minnesota that took about half a day to hunt and another half a day to kill.

Out of the Bunker the entire day, he messages Cas and promptly receives a call from a very stricken angel.

“You said in your message ‘I’m thinking about you’…Do you have any specific reason why you are thinking about me?”

“Nothing really,” Dean hums in satisfaction, “I’m just thinking about you, that’s all.”

Castiel gasps. “T-that’s very nice of you, Dean… umm…I cannot think of why a person would think about another—”

“Why? Aren’t you thinking about me all the time too?”

There’s a sound of something crashing on the floor so it’s either Cas was reading a book or holding a laptop and Dean’s betting it’s the latter so he hopes its Sam’s laptop not his.

Dean smirks again and perhaps just forgot Sam is sitting beside him until his brother clears his throat again with a funny look on his face.

Dean ignores him.

That same week when Castiel and Jack return from grocery shopping, Dean is there waiting for them in the war room table with a beer can in one hand and book on the other. He looks up and warmly greets them ‘Welcome home,’ especially giving Castiel a very long, meaningful look, green eyes speaking volumes of sincerity so Castiel stammers a response. Dean meets him on the bottom of the stairs and without a word, twirls Cas by the shoulder and begins removing his coat—

“D-Dean!?”

“Yeah, it’s summer, what are you doing still wearing this? You’ll get hot. Well, you’re hot—” and no one asks if it’s the current body temperature but Castiel adamantly fights him.

“My vessel does not respond to the weather as with you humans—”

Dean takes it off anyway, grinning at another success. Before Castiel can say anything, Jack stands Dean’s side, shoulders hunching and waiting for his own jacket to be peeled. Dean takes it too with a smirk, then sees Sam watching from the table giving him the same funny expression he had from the kitchen.

“You wanna get your flannel taken off too?” Dean shoots over Sam as he puts the coats on his arms. Sam rolls his eyes but it all didn’t matter because even when Cas seems annoyed when they reached the kitchen, he was smiling at Dean the entire evening with less coat off his shoulder.

And it just goes on and on be it in the Bunker, the Impala, in the middle of the case while they are working as FBI agents, Dean will just light up like fire in the middle of nowhere.

“Hey, Cas.”

“What?”

“Who do you think is my speed dial number 1?”

“Um… I’m guessing it’s no longer Sam?”

Dean laughs out loud before knocking on their prospect’s door with an agent’s grim expression returning on his face in a flick of a finger.

One night when Dean strolls past Sam in the kitchen comes the awaited talk because Sam has been watching them and knows it’s no longer ordinary ‘thing’ he can ignore even when he wished he could because just the other night, Sam caught the two dancing on top of the war room table with dopey smiles on their faces, arms around each other with Dean saying something about having a dream of tap dancing and symbolic lamps—

“Dean, you realize you’re giving Cas the ‘boyfriend treatment’...”

Dean who’s jut taken a can of beer from his stash doesn’t break a sweat shrugging, “You’re still speed dial 1 on my second phone, alright?”

“I—I don’t care! What’s up with you and Cas? Are you guys…?”

Dean leans his hips on the table and shrugs.

“Does it matter if we label it?”

“What?”

“Uh… I don’t know what you wanna hear, Sam, but… did you see how Cas’s been smiling a lot these days? And I just thought… it’s not bad. These simple things I’m doing… not bad at all.”

“Yes, I know, Dean. And it’s good.” Sam puts on the ‘I’m-trying-to-not-butt-in-but-i-think-you-need–to-hear’ look when he clasps both hands. “But don’t you think you’ll be confusing Cas? He told me about this whole thing, about how you were only trying to prove Jack a point. But this is more than a bet, Dean… This is Cas’ happiness… what’ll happen if you suddenly stop?”

Dean suddenly stops just enough to give Sam a serious look like he’s thinking and overthinking stuff once again before his thoughts come into a halt and he lifts his green eyes at his brother bearing something like a revelation lights his face.

He smiles.

“You got it all wrong, Sammy.” Then he was just gone.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Are you happy?”

“Asking me this when you just shoved me on your door…” Castiel says, voice deep and husky inside Dean’s room, behind Dean’s closed door, with Dean upon him inches from his face, both hands

Castiel puts careful hands-on Dean’s chest, pushing him a little. Locking eyes with those beautiful orbs is enough for Castiel to forget why they were there in the first place.

“I think I maybe being selfish here, Cas but… I ….”

Castiel tilts his head.

“Why are you so fixated on making me happy, Dean?”

“Will this make you happy?”

“I prefer if you do not take this position.”

“What position?” Dean says, breathless, their hips dancing at the friction. Castiel takes Dean’s neck with rough hands and jerks him closer, foreheads bumping. In reality, Castiel is worried. Castiel knows Dean has been trying to make him happy for weeks now. With that kind of determination, it’s only natural Dean finally realizes what Castiel really wants.

“You don’t have to do all of this, Dean. Making me happy… this is too much…”

“You really want me to stop?” Dean says in a husky voice, his mouth already nipping on the angel’s chin sending shivers all over his body.

“I’m just saying you don’t have to do this to prove anything… Just stay by my side.”

“And if I really wanna do it?” the green eyes flash in arousal. Castiel eyes him searchingly, to see if Dean means it, if Dean is ready because Castiel has been waiting for a very long time. But he still fears it, fears the Empty that may just pull him out of nowhere.

“Are you scared, Cas?” Dean suddenly asks, pressing his lips on the angel’s cheeks, “Don’t look so scared… I’m gonna eat you, not leave you, ‘kay? I got you, Cas…”

Their lips crushed and it’s one thing for Dean to groan, another for Castiel to crush his lips on the man. When Dean lands flat on his back on the bed, Castiel as his top, he looks at the human—the man with the very soul he built from hell now ready to be taken apart again and all for him to take—

Dean who trusts him. Dean who loves him.

And Castiel realizes one thing that night when he wreaks havoc on Dean’s bed, while he breaks Dean apart and put him back again, it’s all too clear, realized why he was still in Dean’s arms the entire night, Dean resting on his chest.

Happiness is impossible to attain.

So, when Jack sits by his side munching on his sandwich months later with Castiel and Dean’s relationship out for the world to question yet bearing no real significance to their truth— comes the most important question.

“Cas, are you happy?”

“No, Jack,” Castiel says with eyes twinkling, watching Dean wrestle the Thanksgiving turkey in the oven. Dean whose wearing his apron again, against the blue shirt with solid determination to have the overlarge turkey inside his oven. Sam who’s there telling him how to do it. Dean growling, not listening just because.

“I’m not happy… I want to see more.”

Castiel just looks at Dean with pure hunger and longing and maybe yes, also lust. Such a human ‘thing’ he has acquired since living in this world for many years, first unable to grasp it until finally, it’s here, with him, a feeling also afflicting the angel. Of the real truth about happiness. That in a way, you cannot just say ‘enough’.

Not with what they have. Castiel smiles.

Oh, he is happy, but not too happy.

He will never get enough of Dean.

The end. Ao3  #stayathomechallenge

#SPNStayAtHome #destiel ficlet #cas x dean fluff #tooth rotting fluff #Destiel #DEANCAS #dean winchester #destiel domestics #domestics

[pindaleng]

Title: But I Knew You

Pairing: Avatrice

Chapters: 1/1

Wordcount: 2270

Summary: College AU. Beatrice is Ava’s favorite person. Ava loves being around her in a way she can’t explain. She wants to do everything with her, from studying to partying to walks outside. Which is completely normal for best friends.

Getting flustered by close contact and fake flirting is also definitely a super normal friendship thing.

Read on AO3 or below.

“I don’t get it.”

Beatrice sighed from her desk. “You don’t have to, it’s organic chemistry.”

“But I feel like I should. Like, this is the structure of living things right? I’m living, so I should understand how it works.”

“You use the internet, but you don’t know how that works.”

“Good point.” Ava shut the thick textbook in front of her. She didn’t really want to learn anyways. “You done yet?”

Beatrice sighed again, turning in her chair to face Ava, who was sitting on her bed. “We’ve only been working half an hour, and I specifically said I was spending the entire day studying. Which you should be doing too, since I know you said you have an exam Monday.”

“Fine Ms. Studious.” Ava made a big show of loudly unzipping her backpack and finally pulling out her laptop and notebooks. “I’ll…study,” she said, punctuating her last word with air quotes.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, definitely looking skeptical, but turned back to her own pile of schoolwork.

Ava opened up her Google doc notes on her laptop, and simultaneously picked up her phone to check Twitter. Beatrice was right to doubt her; she practically never did any work on Saturdays. That’s what Sundays were for.

And yet, every Saturday, she showed up at Beatrice’s room under the guise of studying, just so she could hang out with her favorite person. Beatrice was one of the few people Ava felt comfortable in silence with, maybe due to all the death glares she’s received from Beatrice when she’s being too distracting.

Either way, she found comfort in it, even if they’re just sitting in the same room together, focused on their own activities. Beatrice studying, and Ava scrolling through social media on her phone, occasionally typing a paragraph or two for a paper due the following week.

They’re pretty much polar opposites, and Ava often wondered how they stuck as friends. Probably due to the weird crucible of living on the same freshman year dorm floor. People got to know everyone really quickly, for better or worse.

Luckily, it turned out for the better with everyone Ava met. A few of them with rooms in the north wing bonded fast, and they rented a house together for their sophomore year. She loved them all: Mary, Lilith, Camila, and Beatrice.

But especially Beatrice.

Beatrice was smart, kind, and witty, and honestly the best listener Ava’s ever met. Ava unabashedly talks a lot. Like, a lot. And being like that, people can lose interest as conversation and friendships progress.

But Beatrice still gave Ava her full attention after a year of Ava talking her ear off. Which was still impressive every time.

It’s cool.

It’s cool that she has a solid group of friends when there was no one back home to keep in touch with.

She really loved it here.

There were so many things to do and people to meet, sometimes she still got overwhelmed by it all.

And the best place to get the full experience? College parties.

It was the midst of midterm season, but honestly all the more necessary to have something to blow off stress. And to be real, midterm season lasted from the second month of school to the end of the semester. So, no better time than the present.

After Ava got kicked out of Beatrice’s room for being too distracting, she spent most of that evening helping the rest of her housemates set up their party. Mary was in charge of getting alcohol, having the most connection with older students. Lilith put Ava and Camila in charge of cleaning and setting up, which basically meant that Lilith didn’t trust Ava to actually do the work well. Ava would have been offended if she didn’t enjoy spending time with Camila so much. The girl was a ball of literal sunshine, yet also unexpectedly, full of dirty jokes.

So, setting up the apartment with Camila was a party in itself, full of fun banter and deep life discussions.

Ava just finished putting out the snacks and booze, when the first people arrived. She cracked open a bottle of Fireball, and downed a double shot.

Ava happily shook out her body as the the liquid warmed her up. It was going to be a good night.

———

Ava’s in the middle of laughing at some stranger’s story when she caught sight of a figure coming down the stairs. She grinned.

“Woo! Life of the party’s here!!!” She yelled across the room, startling the people around her, and drawing Beatrice’s attention towards her. If Ava was sober, maybe she would have cared more that Beatrice looked slightly (very) embarrassed, but Ava definitely wasn’t sober. She half skipped and half jogged across the room, undoubtedly spilling her drink on herself and several bystanders.

She hugged Beatrice tightly when she reached her. God it felt nice. Like sinking into a bed of clouds. Or something similarly soft and fluffy and comforting. “I missed you.”

Beatrice laughed softly, close to Ava’s ear. The best sound in the world. “You just saw me a couple of hours ago.”

Ava pulled away and pouted. “Still.”

Beatrice smiled, in a perfect way that made her entire face brighter. Holy hell she was beautiful. “Well, I finished up for the day and I’m here now. Any chance you can show me where the party is?” Her eyes sparkled with playfulness.

Ava looked at her in disbelief. “Wait seriously? You wanna join?”

“I can’t be a dud at a party in my own house, can I?”

Beatrice had definitely sat out on many parties they’ve hosted, but Ava ignored that. For now, she was going to enjoy this win. She led her to the kitchen, where various bottles of alcohol and sodas crowded their dining table. Beatrice shrugged when Ava asked what she wanted, so she just made a vodka cranberry. It was a crowd pleaser drink in her opinion. Plus, some rich kid brought Grey Goose, which was probably double or triple the price of everything else on the table.

Beatrice took a sip. “Not bad.”

“I may not know much,” Ava tapped her index finger a couple times to her temple, “but I do know my liquor.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you also know how to get on my nerves.” Beatrice said teasingly, voice devoid of any malice.

Ava took a overdramatic bow. “Thank you, m’lady.” She refilled her own cup with a mixture of vodka and sprite. “Shall we?” Ava offered her hand to the other girl.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, but put her hand in Ava’s.

Ava led them back to the main room, navigating through groups of bodies to eventually land them at a couch, which was miraculously unclaimed.

From there, Ava launched into basically non-stop talking, wanting to entertain Beatrice in the best way she knew how. She shared stories of all the people she met during the night so far, with Beatrice supplementing the conversation with appropriate reactions and commentary. Ava recounted one guy that recklessly challenged her to shotgunning a beer against him. Spoiler alert, he lost miserably. Ava watched Beatrice’s eyes as much as she could while she was talking, entranced with their intenseness, openness, and expression. Did they always look like that?

The eye contact felt so personal, like it took away everyone else in the room, ignoring the raging party and loud music around them.

And the music was definitely loud, though the song choices were good. Mary knew how to set up a playlist. Ava got banned from music duty when she un-ironically added in Friday by Rebecca Black.

No regrets.

After exhausting all the tales from that night, she moved to discussing and speculating with Beatrice on the backstories of all the partygoers. People watching with Beatrice was always fun. As strait-laced as she appeared, Beatrice was also incredibly creative. Whatever wild stuff Ava theorized, Beatrice could match or do better.

At one point, a couple joined them on the couch, pushing Ava into Beatrice, pressing their sides together. The couch was much too small to comfortably fit 3 people, much less four.

“Shit, sorry.” Ava tried her best to back up and give Beatrice space, but there was nowhere to go.

Beatrice put a hand on her thigh and smiled. “Ava, it’s fine.”

Ava suddenly found it hard to breathe. Probably due to being surrounded by two more people.

“You okay?” Beatrice furrowed her eyebrows.

“Yeah, think I just need to get out here for a bit. Wanna take a walk?”

“Sure.”

There was a nice, cool breeze outside, a welcome relief from the humid air inside. It was also much quieter.

Beatrice suggested getting ice cream from Mcdonald’s and Ava emphatically agreed. Beatrice really knew her.

Fifteen minutes later she was contently humming to herself as they walked back to the house. This was the best party ever. She had an ice cream cone in one hand and somehow Beatrice’s hand in the other. A perfect night. Ava’s pretty sure this is the happiest she’s ever been in her entire life.

———

Ava groaned as she slid back into consciousness. She felt grimy, which was not unusual for her after a night of drinking.

She did a quick self inventory to assess the damage.

She was in her own bed, which was good. Boxers? On. Shirt? Also on, but in her sleep shirt instead of the button up she was wearing last night. Interesting. No bra. Also interesting.

She felt around to her right and left. No body in the bed with her. Good to know.

Minimal pounding in her head. She sat up, breathing a sigh of relief that she didn’t feel like throwing up.

She noticed a glass of water and a couple of Advils on her nightstand. Definitely Beatrice. No one else would be nice enough. Okay maybe Camila, but she still had bets on Beatrice.

She quickly washed down the pills with water and slipped on shorts and a pullover before making her way downstairs to the kitchen.

Mary was sitting at the table eating, and Beatrice at the stove pouring batter into a pan.

“Pancakes, oh my god. Bea you’re the best.” Ava gave Beatrice a tight hug and overdramatic sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Beatrice playfully pushed Ava away and made a show of wiping the kiss off her face. “Yeah yeah I know, now eat it while it’s still hot.”

Ava saluted. “Got it chef.”

“Dork.”

“You love it.”

“No comment.”

Ava’s in the middle of inhaling her fifth pancake when Mary said something. Beatrice left the room about a pancake ago, so it could only have been directed at Ava.

“What?” Ava momentarily stopped chewing.

Mary got up and started rinsing her dishes in the sink. “I said, you should really tell her how you feel.”

Ava knitted her eyebrows together. “About what?”

Mary stared at her for a while, long enough to make Ava to feel uncomfortable. Her mouth was still full, and Mary has perfected the gaze that made her feel like a kid in trouble.

“Never mind,” she said, as she put her dishes in the dishwasher.

“About what??” She repeated. Mary ignored her and walked out the kitchen. Ava swallowed the rest of the food in her mouth. “Asshole!” Ava yelled after her, eliciting a middle finger response.

Beatrice appeared in the doorway. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just Mary being cryptic and messing with me.”

“Sounds about right.”

Beatrice sat down at the table. “How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly… not bad. Seriously thank you for the food and Advils,” Ava remembered her state of dress when she woke up. “And…probably also for helping me out of my clothes.”

“Oh um, right, it was nothing. Didn’t want you sleeping in an uncomfortable, sweaty shirt.” Ava noticed Beatrice’s cheeks turn a little pink. Shit, she didn’t mean to embarrass her. She could fix this.

“Did you see something you like?” Ava wiggled her eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood, but it only made Beatrice blush harder. Oh my god Ava you’re so bad at this. She felt herself digging herself into a hole. Of course fake flirting with her is going to make it worse.

Ava was about to say something (probably dumb) to attempt again to save the situation, before Beatrice spoke.

“How could I not? You’re beautiful.”

For once, Ava was speechless. The incredibly reverent but casual way Beatrice said it completely took her breath away. There was something magical about how soft Beatrice’s eyes were, and how vulnerable it felt. Half of Ava felt calmed, while the other half of her was a raging mess. Ava felt the need to do something. She wasn’t sure what, but she needed to do something. She started racking her garbled brain for any ideas.

Beatrice’s smile slowly slid into a smirk, “Got you.”

The spell of the moment was broken. Ava laughed to dust off any lingering weird feelings. “Wow, got a taste of my own medicine. I’m impressed.”

“I had a good teacher. You should have seen your face.” Beatrice mimicked a “deer in the headlights” look for a brief moment before grinning again. She got up from the table. “Now hurry up and finish your food so we can get to the library. I’m not going to let you forget about studying for your midterm tomorrow.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“Cool.” Beatrice slapped Ava’s arm playfully before leaving the room.

Ava watched her go, wondering what in the living hell just happened. Fuck. Was she about to kiss her best friend?

#avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #warrior nun #college au #fic #fanfic #mine

[hazeofhearts]

Sweet Treat (Robin x reader)

(It pained me to write Steve like how he was back in season 1 because he’s such a developed character now. It was really hard 😅)

Warnings: Minor homophobia.

The doorbell rang in your quiet house and you skidded along the floor in your socked feet to answer it. You smashed into the door and pulled it open in quick succession. There was Robin, your girlfriend, standing on your front steps with a full duffle bag and a tired look in her eye. She was still dressed in her work uniform; you giggled and, before you could stop yourself, you said,

“Ahoy!”

Robin stepped inside your house, dropping her bag on the floor and rolling her eyes at you, though her smiling lips told a different story.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, cupping your cheeks and pressing her lips to yours in a sweet kiss. You wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her closer, smiling into the kiss. She pulled away after a moment.

“God, you’re so smiley and happy. It’s absolutely disgusting,” Robin said as she pinched your cheeks between her hand.

Robin said a lot of things that might seem mean spirited and rude but you saw through it. If you looked into her cornflower blue eyes, you could see a softness that she reserved only for you. Around others, she was a steel trap but with you, she transformed into a teddy bear.

“Hey, girls, no making out in the foyer. Go do that in your room instead,” your dad called from the den off to the right of the door. He and your papa were cuddled up together on the couch, despite the summer heat that had scorched through the house earlier that day.

“Yes, dad,” you said in a singsong voice, dragging Robin up the stairs as she greeted your dads.

“No ‘hey keep the door open’ or anything?”

“Their main concern is pregnancy. Since we can’t get pregnant, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I guess you have a point.”

You led Robin into your room, plopping down on your bed. She followed suit after taking off her hat.

“How was your day,” you whispered.

“Boring as shit, as usual. Really, you should come and work with me. I would love to have you around,” Robin responded, leaning forward to press another soft kiss to your lips.

“Mmm, my parents don’t like the mall. It creeps them out.”

Robin made a sad noise back at you and brushed a lock of hair out of your face. You followed her hand with your nose and brushed it carefully against her palm.

“You’re weird,” she said with a cute smirk.

“But I’m your brand of weird so that’s all that matters.”

“Correct.”

You giggled again and turned to fumble for your remote on your nightstand. You turned on the TV that was in the corner of your room before getting off your bed and turning off the overhead lights, washing the room in white blue light.

You changed quickly into your pajamas and laid down next to Robin. She pulled you to her chest and wrapped her arms around you with you doing the same to her.

“I don’t want to go to school in the fall,” Robin spoke softly into your hair.

“Why?”

“I won’t be able to kiss you how I want. At least not in public.”

You hum and snuggle closer to your girlfriend, burying your face into her uniform shirt and filling your nose with her perfume’s scent and the smell of waffle cone.

“You’re really trying to make me go to the mall with you tomorrow aren’t you?”

A beat of silence.

“Is it working?”

You smacked Robin’s butt and she jerked away from your hand, pushing you closer to the edge of your bed and almost making you fall off. You let out a squeal and clutched Robin close to you. If you were going down, she was going with you.

“Fine, fine! I’ll go to the mall with you in the morning.”

“Yes! There are so many things you can do in there, you don’t have to hang with me all day.”

“Oh? You don’t want me around when your boyfriend, Steve Harrington is around, huh?”

“Shut up! He’d probably flirt with you because he doesn’t know I’m gay and you’re my girlfriend.”

“I wish we could just be out and open,” you mumbled against Robin’s chest, right over her heart.

“Me too,” Robin replied as she rested her chin on top of your head.

The two of you laid like that until you almost fell asleep. Robin shifted under you and you groaned and moved so she could get up. You heard her go into the bathroom across the hall. Once the shower started, you walked over to the bathroom and opened the door.

“Robin, I’m gonna brush my teeth ok?”

“Sure,” Robin said from behind the curtain.

You did exactly as you said and went back to bed. You were already half asleep again when Robin came back into the room and crawled next to you.

“I love you,” she said, curling herself into your back, surrounding you in warmth.

“I love you too,” you slurred as you fell asleep.

——————————————

You woke late the next morning, the TV off and Robin rustling around your room.

“Stupid hat.”

You stood from bed and the springs creaked, startling Robin.

“Good morning,” she said to you.

You said nothing and instead went over to your lamp where Robin’s hat was perched on top. She had flung it there last night without looking where it went. You turned to her and plopped it on her head lopsided, pressing a kiss to her cheek right after.

“Good morning.”

You got ready quickly, donning a pair of cuffed, high waisted shorts and a white T-shirt with a little rainbow on the right breast pocket. Your parents had bought it for you after you came out to them. You traced the rainbow with a finger before turning to Robin.

“Ready?”

——————————-

You pulled into a parking space at the mall and got chills just from looking at it. You scoped out the parking lot and seeing nobody there, pressed a quick kiss to Robin’s lips before exiting the car. She stumbled out, a pink flush on her cheeks.

“You can’t just do that! I wasn’t ready!”

“That’s the entire point,” you said, sticking your tongue out. Once Robin caught up with you, you linked your arms together as you walked to the front entrance.

It was pretty dead on the outside, it being only 10:30 in the morning but when you walked in, there was a sizable amount of people in the food court just standing and sitting around. You looked around and saw all the food places that were on the ground floor and then up top where stores where.

“Impressive, right? Maybe you can expand your wardrobe now.”

“What’s wrong with my wardrobe,” you questioned accusingly.

“Nothing. I think you’re very cute but you should go shopping and have some fun, if only to purchase things that we can both appreciate.”

The two of you approached Scoops Ahoy where Robin worked, your cheeks flushed heavily as you swat your girlfriend. She only chuckled gently as you walked through the threshold.

Steve Harrington was already behind the counter, his own sailor hat on his head. He looked surprised to see you and you felt the same.

“I’m gonna go punch in. Steve, Y/N. Y/N, Steve.”

Robin left your side to go into the back, leaving you and Steve in the front of this empty ice cream shop. You shifted uncomfortably.

You were friends with Jonathan Byers and, by extension, Nancy and the Party. You’d hung out with them a lot this summer when you weren’t with Robin. You knew that Dustin was close with Steve but that doesn’t mean you had to be friendly.

When you were a sophomore and Steve was a junior, you brought both of your parents to parent-teacher conferences. You thought nothing of it until you actually stepped into the school and everyone stared at you. Your dads ushered you to your classes and got in and out of there quickly.

But that didn’t stop the student body from noticing. Steve’s group especially.

You were sitting at lunch with a couple of friends, Robin included. You hadn’t started dating yet for another year or so. There was a lot of commotion over at Steve’s table before he sauntered over to where you were sitting.

“Hey L/N, saw you at parent teacher conferences last night.”

You hummed indifferently but your heart was beating rapidly. After you’d returned home, your parents told you that you might get targeted for having two fathers. You didn’t understand but came to school prepared anyway.

“Yeah, so, were those guys your parents?”

You hummed again, spooning some applesauce into your mouth. No matter what, you had to keep your mouth full, otherwise you would do something or say something you’d regret. Your dad told you that you had to stay strong and not give in to their words. Your papa had said that they would defend your actions but that only you could control yourself.

“Pretty weird, I think, to have two dads. What happened to your mom, huh?”

You swallowed your mouthful and proceeded to take a large bite of your sandwich, stuffing your face so much you could choke.

“Something tells me-“

“Hey, fuck off Harrington. It’s none of your business,” one of your male friends said, defending you.

Steve steps back with his hands raised.

“I’m just saying it’s not quite right to be raised by-“

You stood up with your tray and turned to face Steve. You stared at him for a moment, just enough to make him uncomfortable, before smashing your tray into his chest, spilling food on his clothes. Your applesauce, your ranch dressing for your carrots and your open sandwich with yellow mustard. Everyone in the cafeteria went absolutely ape shit as you walked out, your friends trailing behind you to comfort you.

Steve never bothered you after that and neither did anybody else. If you were willing to mess with King Harrington, there was no telling how crazy you actually were.

You were brought back to the present by Steve calling your name gently.

“Do you want anything? Ice cream, I mean?”

“No thank you,” you said stiffly.

Steve rapped on the counter with his knuckles for a moment before he moved around the counter to stand next to you.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you replied.

“Uh, look. That shit I said when you were a sophomore. That wasn’t cool. I was a total asshole. I’m sorry.”

You gave Steve the side eye before leaning against the counter, crossing your arms.

“It definitely wasn’t cool. You were an asshole.”

Steve leaned next to you, pulling off his hat and fiddling with it between his fingers.

“Yeah. I think about that all the time. I know it’s not an excuse but Tommy H. said that I should do it and back then, I was so afraid of not being popular, so I did it. Really, I know it’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not. But peer pressure and the anxiety of trying to fit in is tough. I think I can forgive you.”

“Really? Oh thank god. I hate avoiding you when you hang out with the Party and I’m with Dustin. Now we can-“

“I can forgive you if I get a free ice cream today.”

Steve scoffed, chuckled and then full out laughed. You gave him a small smile.

“Sounds good. When do you want it?”

“Whenever your boss is around.”

Steve laugher again as Robin came out of the back.

“Hey you two, stop flirting out here. Dingus, get back here and help me prep. Y/N, I’ll see you later ok?”

“I’ll come and steal you for lunch,” you said, calling over your shoulder.

Steve slid next to Robin and gave her a look.

“What,” Robin asked.

“Do you think I have a chance? It’ll take her a while to forgive me and I can live with that. What are my odds, great wizard of love?”

Robin snorts.

“I wouldn’t even dare try. You’re definitely not her type.”

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things robin x reader #robin x reader #stranger things s3 #stranger things robin #stranger things steve harrington #steve harrington

[dyker-farmer]

Ok this was supposed to be a quick draw and a description to go with, that blew into a full chapter and now it's also on Ao3 SO happy reading ig idk

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

[[MORE]]

Take that can away if you can.

Gulp it down. Chapter 1/2/3/4

There's a few to-know to survive life in society, in the valley; there's no good way to comment on the age nor weight of both resident housewives, you can't say no to Evelyn's homemade cookies- and why would you, you fool-, you do not fight at the Saloon or you'll get no cheese anymore on your pizza and only sparkling water for drinks, and-

And you don't mess with Shane's alcohol related ritual.

Except I did, that night, because you do that, when your two-years long friendship with the guy taught you better than letting his impulses overcome yours, when your buddy is trying to recover from teenage long-lasting into early adulthood, trauma-enhanced heavy addiction, and you know, you know tomorrow he'll feel like absolute shit and question his right to therapy the moment he'll stop his pounding skull from splitting. Wonders what a three-dosage paracetamol can do. 

At least he doesn't drink it out anymore.

So yeah, when you're in my shoes, you get that Joja store-bought crap out of Shane's hand, and you brace yourself for the incoming lash out.

The first fractions of seconds are always those to look closely into most. It's only a glimpse, but before the scowl slips on like a well-worn boxing glove ready to strike, there is always this open page I learned I needed to decipher as quick as I could.

Tonight, it's heartbreaking. When I peck his forehead- doting big sibling habits die hard, even when you're actually the youngest of the pair- the eyes I catch looking at me are so confused and bare of any emotion, except for the sorrow that goes beer-soaked tears, it pangs. I get used to the breakdowns, working in the fields I do when I'm off the farm's, but it's not the same when it's a friend.

When I straighten back, offensive beverage in hand, it's already gone in a flinch, away from the empty space behind the chair and onto the table, as he snarls.

"Wha- giv'me back- 's mine!" I don't know how much he drunk before he met up with me, but from the slurring, it's a Lot. A season and a half into sobriety. That's harsh.

I ignore him and walk behind him, pondering where to put the beer for now.

"Y-you can't just do that! It's my booze I got with m'money, not some- who d'you think you are?-" He sputters indignantly, angry tears fewer than the sad ones but still there. He tries to turn around and grab behind his back, but the wild movement is way off and only gets the chair to nearly topples down. I rush in time to stabilize it, and profit off the moment to set a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I can just do that, 'cus it's my house I got with my money, and I think I'm your pal who knows when you've had enough. Dude, I trust you to be an adult, but minutes before, you were already so torched I had to keep your neck upright so you didn't faceplant into the table, and you nearly just kissed my floor good evening. Not to mention you clung to my arms the whole way from the little entry stairs to the kitchen because, quoting, 'If I don't I'll fall in the hole and won't get up'."

I turn to the fridge again, going to open it, before I think better of it. Likely enough, we'll both forget it was there in the first place, it'll stink up my fridge- it's Joja's- and it'll be money out of Shane's pocket for nothing. I set it on the counter, with the rest of the pack. He'll put it to cool down when he's back to Marnie's. Or he won't, probably. 

That's not a worry for now.

When I caught up with him, it was a few feet below my doorstep; he'd probably slipped up trying to climb the three steps up to it, and settled for it. He was nursing that same can, muttering to himself, head down, curled up on himself. Except for that leg sticked out, he probably hurt it when he fell, I'll have to look at that and work on it if it's too swollen. Hopefully that'll spare us from a visit to Harvey's.

Bad memories. Not mine, and it's warm and not raining outside, but. Déjà-vu.

Anyways, he looked the picture of "help I've fallen and I can't get up- and even if I can I won't because Fuck You", and it's been a hassle to have him cooperate. But when I asked if he wanted to leave, he shook his head with a fervor no somnolent drunk should have. That resulted in a lovely streak of vomit down the wall right next to the door. That's also for later. If Eryza doesn't lap it up. Ew. This cat's never predictable.

Now, he's staring at his hands, sitting at my table, contemplating something too far down for me to see- or maybe just zoning out with a sleeping brain. Then he mumbles. "Sorry."

I get back to the table and sit at arm's length across of him. "Nah, 's okay. I don't mind being a helping hand or touchy-feely, must be the frog-eater in me. Not for the helping part." I'd chuckle but my quip falls on deaf ears.

I go to put my hand over his. When he doesn't blink at it, I try and shake a reply out of him, gently. He startles and hawkeyes our joined fingers. When he's finally looking at me, I raise a single eyebrow. He doesn't say anything, but when he pulls back his arm, I let him. We both straighten up, and it's hard to keep up the eye contact.

"So…" There's a heavy air on us. Suddenly, like the last year didn't happen, we're sitting a stride away of each other, and yet it feels like he's all the way back to the forest, looking down at waves.

"Do you want me to do something?" I bend myself a little closer to him, not moving otherwise.

He puts his head in his hands, shivering. Can't tell if it's the AC or his system kicking the alcohol out, or itself, in stress. I think I hear something, but it might as just be his shuddering breath.

"Shane" I insist, voice level, not pressing. "I need words. I want to help, I truly don't mind, but I need words to know what to do." He's never shown signs of going nonverbal before. If he does, I'll improvise. Until then… I need words.

Time ticks slowly as we wait. Then, with great effort and deep fatigue, he drags his palms up from under his nose to his temple, spreading some snot and wet tears across his face from his scrunched shut eyes. Lips trembling but finally showing, that attempt to let out a sound that's not too garbled. He coughs, sniffles a bit, breathe in again, sounding like a sick dog, and blows through gritted teeth before his jaws go slack. Eyes still closed, he whispers, and I have to lower myself some more toward his crouched form to catch it.

"Can I get something to drink…?" His voice is hoarse.

The demand could be comical, if we were into sour humor. And we usually are. But right now, we're not finding the joke in the lines. I stand silently, and as I walk to the fridge again, I let my hand brush his shoulder- same spot as before.

I take a minute to choose, look into the pantry. When I'm back at the table with my items of choice, he's still sitting there, his cheek is cushioned on his arms, face hidden from view. His shoulder, except for the occasional tremor, rise and fall in rythm with his snores. Breaks my heart to interrupt that, but not really. Hangovers are mean bitches with the sharpest nail art on the blackest of boards.

"Psst, dude. C'mon." I rustle his hair backward. He hates when I do that, says it tickles, and it makes him sneeze. So I obligatory do it once a day if I can. Let's say today's my late quota for the last four days I haven't seen him.

He gruffly tells me to kindly refrain from such pleasantries, and raise bleary eyes back up at the table. I can also guess he tried to bat a hand at me, but his coordination is off and he slaps himself lightly on the ear. Then he glares bewildered at his hand for a few seconds, obviously insulted. I profit of this moment to grab a small basin from under the sink, on second thought.

When he brings his attention back to me, I'm sitting again. Between us, a jug of fresh milk from this morning, a small sack of peppers, and a juice carafe sit aside a green glass bottle. There's also some bread, mostly for me to munch on. Because, hmmm dough. He squints at it all, especially at the bottle. Probably trying to read the label.

"Yeah no, didn't get you one of my best wine, not sorry."

"Hot pepper… juice?" He looks at the actual peppers next to it. "With actual peppers?" And then I get the squint too.

"Hmph, I know you like your elongated hell tomatoes, man, what can i say."

At that, a feeble snort.

I decide that it is the highlight victory of my soirée.

"Welp, have at it." I gesture to the half-liter liquor glass right by his left.

He fumbles with the drinks and some splashes around, but I lay back on my chair, arms crossed, letting him do his thing. While I don't hold back from growing downright doting on him when I got to- or even when I don't- I don't see how more devotion right now would be not smothering. He can break my fancy glass cups if he wants and spill my milk, so long he doesn't cut himself or cry over it.

Now, you could be thinking that plain water would have done the trick just fine, if not better, in rehydrating him. Here's the thing, though; going from booze to tasteless liquid, for Shane, that's a sure way to puking his heart out. And I'd rather not have us deal with an acid bile throat burn on top of near alcohol poisoning. Sorry to not spare you the squeamish details, but his oesophagus is pretty sensitive ever since that stomach pumping back at the clinic. Hot fiery hell fruits he can do just fine, with relative moderation and hydratation- hence the milk and juice- but liquor bursting its way back from his guts? Nuh uh. 

It had taken lots of coaxing, but he'd explained the plain tastes, or lackthereof, were very hard for him to deal with, especially when contrasting with strong ones like beers and whiskeys. I'd shackle it to gustative hypostimulation, but I don't know enough about him that way to say. He'd said sparkling water was a good compromise.

But I don't have sparkling water, because I do not like suffering.

I might buy a pack for when he visits though.

And I do know a handful about him already. Shackle that to perceptiveness and a stubborn streak on top of a year and so long camaraderie.

And having a certain uncontrollable fear of failing to act quick the next time coped with by accumulating information and patterns compulsively.

I shake my head to focus on the present again. He's switched from juices to soaking bread in milk to eat it small portion after small portion. He pauses in mid-bite when he catches me staring. He's still hunched on himself and red-faced and a tad bloated. His cheeks are drying and he's blown his nose. I smile calmly. Worst of the storm passed, unless I screw up and blow it.

"Ywou wan' chom'?" He offers a dripping piece of bread. In moments like this, when he's sobering but not quite, the resemblance with Jas are unmistakable. The glint in his reddened eyes that open wide, and his blank-but-not-quite wondering expression, it's all here to paint a scrutinizing but vulnerable picture of tired but bright minds.

"Nah thanks. You done with that milk?"

"...Sure." He eyes it, wary. He knows where this is going, and he doesn't like it. I take the drink off the table, and his gaze follows my movement until I bring it to my lips.

He frowns. A silent warning. 

And as I lock onto him with a dead stare, not blinking a millisecond, I down the rest of the 2 liters jug in three, five gulps. I even take the time to lick my new mustache away, and close my mouth with a click of my tongue.

His expression is the macabre marriage of beffudled horror and pure affliction, disgust if you will. The face of someone who doesn't hate milk, but has grown out of it enough to not be able to live off the stuff like the brave souls I'm apart of. And probably with reason, as I actually can't, like most 20+ years old, digest the liquid in large amount. But I smile like a smug cat, perfectly content.

Cats really can't digest milk once adults, it's all social mythos.

We silently judge and fuck with each other like that for a while more, as more time passes, until the room's elephant gets it all humid with its prancing around. Enough that tears and nervous sweats start again, for no apparent reasons but the residual anxiety from the whole chain of events that led to this.

"I think we should talk about this."

--- to be continued.

#alcohol cw #emetophobia cw #self hatred cw #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #stardew valley #stardew valley farmer #sdv farmer #1!Dow Farm #Farmer Uidelsib #☆my art☆ #♧Shane #*watch me push my autistic headcanons onto chicken boi* #*just you wait for the trans and hispanic ones* #*i'm about to destroy this man whole career of self depreciation* #*highly functionning dumbass energy vs immovable but movable force of sadness* #food cw #*fuck tumblr for not letting me put a read more on mobile rip ur dash y'all* #☆writing☆

[thecreelhouse]

Kill the Lights // Chapter 6

Steve Harrington x Original Female Character

Read chapter 5 here!

Summary: After Violet- formally 003, a telekinetic, electrokenetic, and clairvoyant 19 year old- loses her first family, her first love, nothing is the same. She finds herself taken in by Hopper and El, struggling to find her footing and meaning to keep fighting. The Party, especially Steve Harrington, try to show her where her strengths have been hiding all along, and that no one has to fight their battles alone. Sometimes you don’t need to be rescued, but someone’s love and support while you rescue yourself sure doesn’t hurt.

Word count: 3,817

Content warnings: PTSD, grieving, mentions of self harm, angst

Author’s note: hey!! Sorry for the gap for the last few days, been real busy with holiday activities and last minute errands. I have up to chapter 7 written (maybe 8?) and I’m hoping to work on it some more before posting again after this. Lots and lots of feelings all around, but I promise there’s more comfort and fluff in this one. Listened to clementine by Halsey on repeat writing this one because I’m a soft, sappy bitch that’s a sucker for characters supporting and caring for one another. Thank you as always to anyone who has read and interacted with this story!! Hope y’all enjoy, and feedback is welcome! Hope everyone has a safe holiday season too!

Chapter 6: clementine

Violet felt herself falling, falling, falling, until she hit a surface with a loud thud.

“Shit!”

Her eyes opened wide as a dull pain spread through her back. She blinked a few times before realizing she was on the floor of Steve’s room; she rolled out of his bed in her sleep, not used to a bed at a normal height after sleeping practically on the floor the last few months.

Her panic quickly changed to annoyance at herself and her clumsiness. She glanced around the room, now darker, and her eyes landed on the clock on the nightstand. The bold, red numbers read “7:13”.

“Good god.” Violet mumbled to herself. She was all tangled about in several layers of blankets and sheets as she tried to get back on her feet. The door flew open, startling her.

“Was that noise you? Are you okay?” Steve asked, panicked. Violet laughed through her nose and nodded.

“I’m fine, sorry. I fell off the bed.” Her arms reached up and stretched towards the ceiling, forcing the shirt she wore to ride up and show more skin. Steve was grateful it was too dark to really see anything, and hoped it also covered the heat rising to his face.

“It’s okay,” He said, gently closing the door behind him. “The kids are all downstairs if you wanna hang out with us. They kept waking me up on the walkie and I didn’t want it to wake you up too, so sorry for leaving you alone for awhile.”

“I slept pretty hard regardless, but uh... thank you. For staying with me earlier before I fell back asleep.” Violet mumbled, quickly and quietly, embarrassed.

“I’m glad to hear you actually slept for once.” He said with a soft chuckle. “Oh, El brought you some clothes. She said she saw how “awful” you looked while trying to find you this morning, and thought you could benefit from some clean clothes.”

Violet’s eyes widened, “She’s getting bold.” She joked as Steve handed her the clothes.

“Her words, not mine! I swear.” He quickly replied before his second statement came out a lot quieter. “You look cute all the time.”

“Shut up, Harrington.” Violet said, hoping the darkness of the room hid her blushing too. “Go, I’ll come down in a bit. Is it cool if I shower first?”

“Yeah, bathroom’s right across the hall.” He replied, and Violet muttered her thanks.

Steve nodded with a small smile, and slipped back out the door. As it was open for a second, she heard the kids loudly laughing downstairs about who knows what. She was quickly growing to really love that sound.

After she showered and changed into the shorts and t-shirt El picked out for her- which, El was right, she really did look awful, and that was putting it lightly- she headed downstairs, finding the Party sitting around and hanging by the kitchen island. Several pizza boxes and soda cans were scattered about.

“Jesus, you sure know how to fuel their wild energies, huh?” Violet joked, looking over at Steve, who was leaned against the kitchen counter, shoving a pizza slice in his mouth. Violet grabbed one as she hopped up on the counter space next to Steve.

“Listen, I’m just trying to feed my kids.”

“Thanks, mom!” Dustin laughed out, and Steve flipped him off in return. Violet laughed as she grabbed his hand and shoved it back down to his side.

“Be nice!” Violet said with a giggle.

“Thank you, Vi!”

“Hey, whoa whoa whoa wait. Whose side are you on?!” Steve exclaimed, feigning offense. Violet shrugged and put on an innocent smirk.

“I dunno what you’re talking about, Harrington. I’m neutral in all of this. Just call me Switzerland.” She quipped back. Steve’s eyes narrowed at her, as she shrugged again.

“You’re gonna get it.” He muttered.

Her smirk only grew, “Oh, I don’t think you wanna play like that.”

His hands raised to the side of her torso, hesitating as he waited for the a-ok to be touched, but as Violet nodded, she also reached her hands out to his, sending a tiny shock of static electricity to his touch.

Steve yelped in surprise more than anything, and it sent Violet into a fit of laughter.

“You shocked me!”

“You were gonna tickle me! It’s self defense and no more harmful than taking fresh laundry out of a dryer, ya’ idiot!” She yelled back, trying so hard to get her laughter under control.

“Ugh, you guys are so gross.” Max groaned, rolling her eyes. Lucas nodded in agreement.

“Coming from the young couple who breaks up every other week, that’s hilarious.” Steve replied back.

“Whatever, still gross.” Mike said, and El nodded this time.

“El, why are you agreeing?!” Violet yelled at the same time Steve yelled, “We’re not even a thing! Just friends!”

“Not yet,” Will muttered, quietly, but not quiet enough. Violet’s arms crossed as she huffed and turned her head away, and Steve rolled his eyes as he took a step away from Violet. The movement almost made Violet frown in response, but she held it back and hid it from the kids.

“Guys,” Violet started, hopping off the counter, and closer to Steve again. Her arm wrapped around his shoulders, but she had to stand on her tippy-toes to reach. “We’re just pals. Stop making things weird. Besides, friends can be silly with one another.”

“Yeah,” Steve chimed in, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as soon as she touched him. “It’s just us being friends. Chill.”

Violet took the chance to her advantage and sent another harmless shock to his shoulder, causing him to yelp again.

“Okay, that’s it!” He yelled, and she ran off into the house as he chased after her. The two of them were too busy playing tag like children to hear Dustin mutter something about how “painful” this flirting was to watch.

“I’ll do it again, don’t come near me, Harrington!” Violet squeaked as she made a lap around the first floor of the house. Her hands made a swift movement at the back sliding door as she neared, and it opened just enough to slide through and out to the backyard.

“This isn’t fair! I don’t have cool powers like you!” He yelled, still chasing her. He ducked out the door and saw her standing a little too close to the edge of the pool.

Violet seemed to notice what he did, glancing over her shoulder for a second, then back his way.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll shock you, idiot. You push me, I drag you in.” She said, half catching her breath and half losing it to more laughter.

“You wouldn’t.” He called her bluff, knowing she was joking anyway. “Who would feed my kids then?”

“We can feed ourselves, thank you very much!” Mike yelled from the sliding door. Steve and Violet turned to see all the kids squished in the doorway, watching what the older teens would do next. Steve turned back to Violet, shrugged, before gently pushing her into the water. Her hands instantly grabbed his arms, dragging him in with her, foiling his plan.

The two came up to the surface, Violet coughing water out while also laughing still. Steve rubbed water from his eyes, still laughing along with her.

“Jerk! Now that shower was useless.” She said, splashing water at him. He swam closer, a little too close, but it didn’t bother Violet, not in a bad way.

“Maybe, but when was the last time you laughed that much?” He replied, voice a little lower than before. Violet looked up at him, and she could swear their faces were moving closer.

“Oh my god, would you two just kiss already?!” Dustin screeched from the backdoor, startling them both.

Instantly, they both noticed how close they were to one another, and swam back a bit. Neither would look at the other, both blushing, and annoyed that whatever was about to happen was ruined.

“I should, uh, go inside and dry off.” Violet mumbled, climbing out the side of the pool. She squeezed whatever water she could out of her hair and clothes before heading to the door. Steve let his head hang back, eyes closed, and sighed in defeat. He wasn’t sure what the hell was about to happen, but he was disappointed the moment was ruined.

He dragged himself out of the pool and headed inside too. The kids all stepped aside, quiet, feeling the awkward energy between Violet and Steve. He was dripping water all over the floor but didn’t care.

“Vi, wait up,” He softly called after her as she headed up the stairs. She turned around, halfway up the stairs.

“What?”

“I... uh... Let me at least get you some dry clothes, alright?” Steve wasn’t sure how to communicate after watching their sweet moment disintegrate before their eyes. Violet looked down.

“Yeah, thanks.” She mumbled, and continued to head back up the stairs. Steve followed, before walking ahead of her to his room. He rummaged through his drawers, trying to find something that could somewhat fit Violet. Steve handed Violet a pair of pajama pants and shirt, avoiding eye contact with her.

“Listen, Vi, I’m sorry-“

“It’s fine, Steve. Really.” She cut him off in a short tone. “You definitely don't need to be involved with a mess like me anyway.”

Before Steve could argue that, she spun around and darted into the bathroom across the hall, slamming the door shut behind her.

Violet turned the lights, fan, and shower on to drown out any noises about to leave her. She tried so hard to hold in the tears, but she felt safer to cry among the noise now.

She had no idea Steve could still hear her sobs on the other side of the door, and it broke his heart.

I should have known better. He thought. She’s still grieving, and I’m being so selfish. God, way to fuck it up, Harrington.

Violet felt terrible. In the moment, all she wanted was to kiss Steve. After the magic faded and reality set back in, she felt horribly guilty for even wanting that. For wanting someone else. She felt like it was too soon to have feelings for someone else.

Amy just died only months ago, and here she was, flirting like a middle schooler with this boy she just met. At least hooking up with that random girl had no feelings involved. She didn’t feel as guilty for that. But growing feelings for someone else, after her partner, her first love, just recently died? It made her feel rotten to the core.

She didn’t trust men, really ever at all. She was hesitant to trust Hopper and the boys of the Party, hesitant to trust Steve. Yet here she is, only a month after really formally meeting him, and is head over heels for this idiot.

Maybe I’m the idiot. She thought to herself.

Violet peeled the soaked clothes from her skin and jumped in the shower, hoping to wash off the terrible feeling that still clung to her tightly. She wanted so badly to give into destructive behavior to forget her guilt, but she couldn’t shake the look Steve gave her the night she revealed her scars.

Hurting herself would only make this whole thing worse, and nothing was worth hurting herself over. But it scared her, fighting the urges off. She didn’t know how to cope with anything negative in life without destroying herself. It might have been her hardest battle yet.

———

When Violet finally finished up and left the bathroom, the house was much quieter than earlier. She headed back downstairs and followed the only soft noises floating from the TV, to find the Party all passed out or almost there while a movie played quietly. There were snack wrappers and junk food bags scattered everywhere among the sleeping kids. Violet smiled to herself at the sight.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, coming up behind her in the hallway. Violet jumped, and moved away from the doorway. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay.” She said, her voice small. “So... guess they invited themselves over for a sleepover?”

“Yeah, they kinda do this sometimes.” He chuckled, running his hands through his hair nervously. “You’re welcome to stay over too, of course, but I totally understand if you don’t want to.”

“Might as well, someone’s gotta help you clean up their mess.” She giggled softly. “As long as you don’t mind?”

“No! No, not at all. I just... didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable from earlier-“

“Yeah about that, Steve, listen-“

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so selfish-“

“You weren’t-“

“I was-“

Violet inhaled deeply, then exhaled, trying to stop the cycle of interrupting one another that they accidentally started. Steve pressed a palm to his head, laughing awkwardly.

“Sorry. You go.” He said.

“It’s not your fault. Or mine. Or the kids.” She spoke fast, trying to get it all out before they started interrupting one another again. But Steve knew to just listen to what she had to say. “I’m trying... so, so goddamn hard to move past this guilt I feel every day for just... existing. It’s so hard. I still feel wrong for enjoying life when Amy was killed for being a part of my life and helping me.”

“You’re not-“

“Wait. Please. I’m not finished.”

Steve clamped his mouth shut, nodding at Violet.

“But this past month, that guilt has lessened immensely, since letting you in, letting El and Hopper and the kids in. And that makes me feel terrible. Like I’m... like I should be feeling guilty still. Like I shouldn’t be moving forward and healing this fast. Like I shouldn’t have found a family so easily, found friends so quickly, found... whatever the hell is going on between us, at all... I know I shouldn’t take life for granted, but I feel like a scumbag for still living while she’s gone because of me.” Violet’s voice shook as she held back tears. God, she was so tired of all of this crying.

“Let’s go outside,” Steve’s eyes darted to the kids in the room, all fast asleep now. “I promise, no pool pranks, either.”

Violet laughed as she felt tears roll down her face before following Steve out the backdoor.

The sky was clear and the moon was bright. Humidity still hung in the air, but not as heavy as earlier. They sat by the side of the pool, Violet crossing her legs. The glow of the light in the water illuminated their faces softly.

“Even if it’s just a friendship-,” She started, breaking the silence after a moment. Her voice was the smallest and shakiest Steve had ever heard it yet. “-I am so fucking afraid they’ll take you too.”

The dam broke again, the tears flowed freely, and instantly Steve reached over to embrace her in a hug.

“I’m not going anywhere, promise. You’re not, No one is. We’re all safe. Even if Brenner is still out there hiding, we have your back. We’d protect you and El till the end, Vi.” He reassured, pulling her closer as she sobbed. She sat curled up in his lap, clutching on tightly like she’d lose him that very second.

“I’m sorry I can’t take away what he did to you and El in the lab, and what he did to Amy when you escaped. We’re all gonna do our best to make sure it can never, ever happen again. You hear me, Vi? You deserve a normal, boring fucking life from here on out.”

The last bit made her giggle through her tears. “A normal, boring life sounds like fucking paradise to me.”

“You got it. I can give you normal and boring. That’s my special ability.” He joked, gently playing with her hair. “Not as cool as all the shit you can do, but it’s something.”

Violet leaned into his shoulder, beginning to calm down.

“Whatever this,” he motioned between the two of them, “is, I don’t want to rush it. Any of it. I’m sorry I got caught up in the moment.”

“I did too. It takes two, y’know.” Violet mumbled, blushing.

“Regardless, I don’t want you feeling guilty for building new relationships with anyone. Not just me. Got it? You deserve to live, Vi.” Steve continued softly. “That goes for the ‘gross’ stuff too, as the kids called it. With anyone. Boy, girl, whoever. Give yourself a chance to experience life with people if it feels right.”

Violet gently nodded, feeling more at ease. She wasn’t sure what turned her luck around, or if the universe was finally looking out for her, but she was grateful to have a friend like Steve in this hardest time of her short life.

Their silence grew and the noises of the warm night fell around them; the crickets sang in a way that Violet never, ever wanted to take for granted or forget. The stars had a soft glow, polka-dotting the sky above. The little luxuries of a normal life. Violet wished the safety in that moment could be saved in her back pocket for rainy days.

Violet’s breathing had steadied, and her tears had slowed, almost to a complete stop. Steve didn’t loosen his hold on her, afraid letting go of her body meant letting go of this moment. He found comfort in her comfort. The way her eyes lit up gazing at the night sky, or how she hummed to herself, content at the noises of the crickets in the distance. The more time he spent with her, the more he caught onto the little details who made up her entire being. There was so much innocence in someone so hurt by a world that didn’t understand her, wasn’t there for her. Steve wanted to be by her side for as long as possible as she rediscovered the good in the world. He wanted to show care and support every step of the way, if she’d let him.

Violet wanted to let him be there for her more than anything, too. Her walls were tumbling down faster than she’d expected. She thought she built them strong enough to keep everyone out and away, keep anyone from getting too close and getting hurt.

Yet, here Steve was, not forcing himself in, not making her uncomfortable, but just letting Violet know he was there if she wanted. He was there if she needed someone, a friend, maybe something more. He wasn’t pushing any of it, but he wanted it to be clear she wasn’t alone in this. She didn’t have to isolate herself anymore.

Violet shifted, with her back to his chest and head under his chin, still sitting in his lap. Steve loosened his grip, arms falling around her hips, not fully letting go. Her hands reached out towards the pool, and as her fingers extended, a small spark of electricity flew from them; the pool light flickered gently before fading out fully. She turned her head slightly to the light above the back door, and narrowed her eyes at it before it followed in darkness too.

“How are you so freakin’ cool?” Steve breathed out, watching Violet as she turned the lights out with her powers. Slowly she let a smile and blush sneak upon her face, and hoped he didn’t catch onto it.

“Now we can see the stars better.” She whispered, leaning back into him again. “The lights were distracting, sorry. I didn’t break them, I swear.”

“I’m not mad about this one bit, Vi.” His embrace tightened around her again as he spoke.

“Can I ask you something?” She questioned, tilting her head up and back towards his. It was a silly way to meet his eyes, but she wanted verbal and visual permission too.

Steve’s eyes landed back down on hers, “I have a slight feeling I know what it’s about... Maybe I can read minds, huh?.” He joked off the seriousness for a second, Violet smirked a bit, but waited before he continued. “But yeah of course. Ask away.”

“What happened with you and Nancy?” She asked, quieter now. Her fingers gently traced random shapes on the skin of his arms around her. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to still. You just carry around this hurt with you, even when it’s pushed to the back of your mind, I still sense it’s always with you. Why?”

“Damn, I was kinda right, but I didn’t realize you were gonna call me out on that too.” He sighed, sadly laughing to himself. “It’s not even really over the break up anymore. That I got over a little while ago, I think. It’s more that I thought I was doing everything right, and it still ended up not being enough. I changed for the better because she helped me see I could be more than some jerk, and it helped me be a better boyfriend too. And it still wasn’t enough for her.”

“That’s not necessarily your fault, though.” Violet said. She had turned her body back around to face his, doing her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach from seeing how close they were face to face. She continued, “From what you and the kids told me, and what I already knew, you became an even better person without her. And a better friend.”

“Yeah, but it’s still a terrible feeling. Pouring your love into a relationship with someone who just thinks it’s all bullshit anyway.” He sighed. “God, I think I still hate that stupid word.”

Violet nodded in understanding, not sure what to say in the moment. She could almost see the breakup as he replayed it in his head. It was frustrating to not only hear him talk about this, but see the heartbreak happen as she sensed his sadness and read his thoughts.

A minute or two passed before she spoke again.

“I mean, the heartbreak is valid. Your feelings are valid. I don’t think you would have grown into who you are right now without it all, though.” She whispered, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not saying you should be thankful Nancy hurt you and walked away the way she did, but you should also give yourself credit for becoming a better person in the aftermath of it all.”

“Thank you, Vi. That means way more than words could express.” He whispered back, hugging her tightly again, and she returned the embrace. Neither fully let go after some time.

The two of them sat, enjoying each other’s company and their small, safe corner of the world around them. It couldn’t last forever, but Violet would do everything she could to remember every detail of it all.

I don’t need anyone, I just need everyone and then some.

#stranger things x reader #stranger things x oc #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington x ofc #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #kill the lights

[emdythewriter]

Scars of our lives | chapter one (acotar)

A/N: I feel like I’ve been posting a lot of new fics lately and you guys are probably getting annoyed and just want me to update new chapters of the ones already posted (which will happen) but I wrote this in one sitting and am super proud of it and couldn’t want to share so here you go!

Summary: all three Archeron sisters are now business owners, which brings about some new faces. Every thing starts out perfect but life likes to throw a curve ball or two. Things are about to get a little complicated but whose to say the sisters have never dealt with complicated before, after all it only helps to find who you truly are, scars and all.

“Shit,” Feyre cursed as she tripped over an unpacked box, almost breaking the bottle of liquor in her hands. She was a few days away from the grand opening of her bar, Stars Eternal and nothing could go wrong.

“Are you okay?” Elain asked from where she was unpacking boxes of glasses. Both Nesta and Elain had come to help her out on their days off, and Feyre was eternally grateful. Both of her sisters had their own businesses to run and most of their time was devoted to maintaining the success they had found. Nesta owned a bookstore a few doors down and on the other side of the road. It was the first Archeron business to open and soon another Evening With Words location would appear on the other side of town.

Elain had a bakery directly across from the bookstore called Floral Desserts. The theme of the bakery was that everything was decorated with flowers and her sister had found beautiful and creative ways to make that work. Due to the uniqueness of her craft the business was increasingly popular over the summer during the wedding season, which they were in the midst of currently.

“I’m fine just missed the box at my feet,” Feyre answered her sister. With that she went back to unloading to copious amounts of beer, liquor, and wine she had ordered to supply her bar. Nesta carried thrings to the back storage room as Feyre filled up the shelves and storage cabinets behind the bar.

Everything was coming together and there was a buzz in the air as she anticipated the opening in a few short days. For years she had dreamed of having her own place, of having some accomplishment to call her own, and here it was. Feyre couldn’t help but smile for the millionth time that day at the joy of finally doing something she wanted. After the years of helping her father pay the bills, barely passing high school with the right grades. After being forced into going to college for two years, then dropping out and being considered a disappointment. She felt happy, truly happy. It was a wondrous feeling.

“You smile anymore and you’ll be stuck like that,” Nesta said as she came out of the back storage. She had a broom and dustpan in one hand and was rolling a garbage can in the other.

“As opposed to a permanent frown like yours?” Feyre teased with a satisfied smirk on her face. Her oldest sister had always been especially hard on her. She would get on her for staying up all night and falling asleep in class, though it was because she was too busy keeping their family under a roof during the day. Nesta didn’t talk to her for months after she left college, saying that she was tarnishing their mother’s memory. Eventually they found common ground after their experiences with their exes came to light.

“You aren’t starting a fight are you?” Elain asked coming over to join her sisters. She dumped an arm full of tape from opening boxes into the waiting trashcan before looking between her younger and older sister. As the middle child she was the barrier between the two hot headed women. Though she wasn’t always happy being the voice of reason it was worth it in the end to keep her family together. Even more so now that their father had passed away a few short months ago.

“Don’t worry Lainey we’re just teasing,” Feyre said as she wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders, hugging her close. All three of them turned to take in the space, from the long bar at the center of the floor, to the booths placed along the walls of the building, and the wide open dance floor all around them. It was a quirky layout but it was everything Feyre had ever imagined.

“I hope you're not regretting this decision because I don’t think there’s any going back now,” Nesta said as she crossed her arms over her chest. Despite the tough love in her words Feyre could sense that her sister was proud of her. Knowing it and feeling it are two different things and Feyre smiled again as she felt it.

“Nope,” Feyre said as she released her sister and turned to grab her stuff behind the bar. “In fact I think it’s time to get some food and celebrate.”

“Anyone else in the mood for chinese?” Elain asked as the three Archeron sisters walked out of the bar. Feyre turned to lock it up as her sisters discussed food options.

“I think that sounds perfect,” she said grabbing both her sister’s hands and heading down the street to order chinese at their favorite restaurant. The whole way Feyre found herself unable to stop smiling.

___

“Come on Cassian we’re getting impatient!”

“We? I think it’s just you Rhysand!” It was true Azriel was perfectly content waiting another hour for their brother, but Rhys wanted to get out of this apartment. He wanted to go out and get a little drunk and maybe find a girl to take home later. None of that was going to happen though if Cassian didn’t hurry up and get his ass out of his room.

“How long does it take to pick out a shirt that will end up ruined anyways?” Rhys called back. His brother had a habit of being a messy drunk, meaning the alcohol ended up all over him but somehow he still managed a hangover the next morning.

“Who says I’m looking for a shirt!” Cassian called back. This time both Rhys and Azriel rolled their eyes at their brother. For some unknown reason Cassian had always decided to act like a girl before going out, meaning he took a whole century to get his hair right before getting dressed in five minutes.

“Just put it in a bun if you don’t know what to do. That’s what you do most days anyways,” Azriel pointed out as he typed on his phone. For the past few days Rhys had noticed he was doing that more often, getting sucked in by his phone.

“When we get there I’m ripping that phone out of your hands, skin and all,” Rhys said to his brother just before they finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Both of their heads turned as Cassian entered the living room they had been waiting in for the last half hour. He had on an old pair of ripped jeans he always but on after a day at the office. His shirt was gray with a list of characters from The Office listed. The outfit was completed with a pair of boots he wore everywhere and would to his job if he didn’t work at a corporate office. Cassian had chosen to keep his hair down, the dark waves falling to his shoulders, and a grin plastered on his face.

“You ever going to tell us who the girl is?” he asked Azriel with a teasing smirk.

“Yeah,” his brother answered standing up and smoothing out his black shirt. “The day you stop taking as long as my sister to get dressed.” Azriel sent the same teasing smirk back to Cassian but his was more so done in satisfaction.

“I hate you,” Cassian said as he glared at the back of his brother’s head.

“No you don’t,” Az responded as he led the trio out of the apartment and onto the busy streets of Velaris. The city was always crowded and bustling with people but the night life changed the tone. Now instead of hustling and stressed pedestrians trying to get from one place to the other, it was happy and joyful. These were the people that lived and breathed the city of starlight, the people Rhys had grown up loving all his life.

Being the son of the former mayor was not easy, most of the time Rhys hated it in fact. Then he started going to charity events with his mother, helping people and he saw why his father remained in office for so long. Despite not being the best father he was an amazing mayor to the citizens of his city. Most people expected Rhys to take up the mantle after his father passed, but he went the route his mother had led him on. He started his non-profit charity where he made millions every year for five different programs and issues he was passionate about. Rhys lived off the money in his trust fund thanks to the long legacy of his family and remained CEO of hotel business that was passed down by his father’s family. These days however, his sister, Kingsley, ran the business while Rhys assisted when she asked for it.

Cassian actually worked for the business, overseeing the construction of new locations around the world. In a few weeks he would be travelling to Scotland to begin work on their first bed & breakfast which seemed like a popular trend in Europe. Azriel on the other hand was Rhys’s right hand man at the non-profit while also working out of the family owned garage he was raised in.

“What is this place called again?” Azriel asked as they round the corner of their street. Earlier that week Rhys had heard from an employee about a new bar opening up tonight. It was already getting a lot of buzz and had only just opened an hour ago.

“Stars Eternal,” Rhys said having remembered the name because of its uniqueness.

“Whoever the owner is must really like Velaris,” Cassian commented as they followed Az. Rhys chuckled at the comment having thought the same thing the first time he heard the name.

“That only makes it better,” Rhys told his brother. A couple more blocks and the trio were met with a line of people waiting to get into the bar. He took in the sight, a flashing violet sign with the name, a neon sign reading “it’s 5 o’clock somewhere”, and bright red double doors held open by two bodyguards checking IDs. The color didn’t match the black painted brick building, either of the neon signs, or what Rhys could see of the inside. Yet it matched it perfectly.

“Think we’ll be getting in tonight?” Azriel asked as he took in the line of people that kept growing.

“Of course we are,” Rhys said as he laid an arm over each of his brother’s shoulders. “You’re with me.” That being said he dragged the two up to the entrance, a resting satisfied smirk on his lips.

___

Nesta was in a corner booth with Elain as they watched their younger sister work. Feyre was flawless in her movements, as if she hadn’t just opened the bar not even two hours ago. She felt a mix of emotions as she watched, the first being proud. She knew Feyre had wanted something to call her own all her life and now she had it. Despite that overwhelming feeling Nesta also felt worried. She didn’t want her sister’s dream to crash and burn though based on the crowd it seems like that wouldn’t be happening for a while. That worry led to fear of what Feyre would do if her business failed. She would always have a place with Elain and herself if need be, but her younger sister had never spoke of a back up plan to this bar.

“Stop thinking so much you’ll make those frowns more permanent,” Elain said breaking Nesta out of her trance. She looked over to her younger sister who had her own expression of worry on her face. She knew Elain and Feyre both believed she thought too much, but Nesta couldn’t help how her brain was wired.

“I’ll always worry about both of you,” Nesta said looking at her sister, straight into those brown eyes. “That’s my job,” she turned back to watch Feyre, who was currently mixing a drink and talking to a customer.

“She won’t fail you know,” Elain said knowing that was exactly what was on her sister’s mind. “She’s an Archeron and not likely to give up even when she hits a roadblock.” Nesta knew that was true, hell she had hit her own bumps in the road and overcame them.

“Doesn’t make me worry less,” Nesta said. She stood up to go to the bathroom before Elain could see another word, which she knew she would based on how her lips started to part. She sighed as she watched Nesta go, wishing there was something or someone in Nesta’s life that would break down the walls her sisters never could.

She was heading for the back exit when someone bumped into her, someone with a fresh drink based off the sticky liquid that was flowing down her shirt. Nesta gasped at the contact while the other person swore under their breath.

“Shit I’m sorry,” a deep voice said before setting the rest of his drink on a nearby table. Her blouse would be stained if she didn’t get home soon to clean it. Feyre had warned her against wearing it but Nesta had wanted to prove nothing would happen to it. She should’ve listened to her sister.

“It’s fine,” she said stopping the man from reaching out with paper towels she hadn’t even seen him get. Looking up she met a pair of hazel eyes belonging to a tan and fit man. His hair was down to his shoulder in black waves, that looked blue when the light hit him right. His shirt had a cast of characters she didn’t recognize listed and his jeans were adorned with holes, the hem tucked into an old and worn pair of boots.

“I really am sorry. Someone knocked my shoulder and I lost my balance,” he said for all the world sounding like he had just run over her cat.

“Seriously it’s fine I might be able to get the stain out,” Nesta explained as she took the paper towels from his still outstretched hands. Those hands were big she noticed as they rested against his sides, so large they would swallow her frail ones. She had a feeling they were covered in calluses, he looked like a man that wouldn’t mind living off the land. If a zombie apocalypse ever came she would want to be at this stranger’s side.

“I’m Cassian,” he introduced after a beat or two of silence. He stuck out a large hand again for her to shake, and just as Nesta had suspected it swallowed her own.

“Nesta,” She didn’t know why she was still standing her talking to him. It was something she never did, talk to strangers. She hated repeating introductions, it was something Elain enjoyed though Nesta never puzzled out why. Despite her distaste for new people she felt a pull to him, and a weight in her shoes keeping her in front of him, and some unknown confidence forcing her to keep a conversation.

“Well Nesta sorry about the spill,” he gestured to the front of her blouse. “I can let you borrow my jacket if you plan on staying longer.” Nesta wasn’t planning on staying longer, in fact she was about to leave before his drink found her skin.

“That would be great. I’d hate to run out on my sister during her grand opening.” She was rambling, Nesta never rambled. Something had possessed her, a demon who found pleasure in making her talk to Cassian. The same Cassian that was now taking the leather jacket off his back and resting it on her shoulders. She slipped her arms into the sleeves being overcome by warmth and a woodsy outdoor scent that matched this man perfectly.

“Your sister is the owner?” He asked sounding surprised. Nesta hoped it wasn’t at the fact a woman was operating this bar, it would ruin him completely and she didn’t want that.

“That’s surprising?” Nesta asked giving him a look that said he better be honest with her or he might lose a body part.

“I guess I wasn’t expecting you to be related to the bartender,” Cassian said pointing over his shoulder in the direction of where Feyre was standing. She looked over her shoulder and found her sister chatting the ear off of the same customer Nesta had seen her talking to before she left Elain alone.

“Most people don’t until they see our eyes,” she answered, thinking of how the blue-grey coloring was her last connection to both her mother and little sister.

“Can’t really tell with the lack of lighting,” Cassian answered waving his hand up at the ceiling where there was a limited number in lights.

“It is a bar, what else would you expect?” Nesta found herself teasing him, another thing she rarely did even with her sisters. Cassian chuckled, and it was a deep sound she never thought she could want to hear again.

“Very true,” he smiled at her and Nesta smiled back.

“I should go before my shirt is permanently stuck to my body.”

“Yeah you probably are getting uncomfortable.”

“I do have beer all over my chest and it’s not for pleasure.” Nesta didn’t know why she made the comment but it was too late to take it back now. Cassian’s eyes lit up with mischief though she doubted he would make a move unless he knew she truly wanted that.

“You’re into that kind of stuff?” he sounded intrigued by the idea rather than appalled. Nesta’s nippled hardened within her bra, the place between her legs tingling.

“You’ll never know,” she shrugged with a teasing smile. Nesta wanted him to know. She wanted to drag Cassian out of this bar and to her apartment where he could lick the beer off her body, and then other things too.

“Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to say that to a guy?” he teased back and she actually laughed, laughed. She hadn’t done that freely in she didn’t even know how long anymore.

“Who said I didn’t like playing hard to get too.” she was on a roll but it was time to wind it all down and go home so she could strip out of her clothes herself. Though Nesta had a feeling she would imagine her hands as his when she did so. “I’m going to say goodbye to my sisters and then head out.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Cassian offered. He wasn’t ready to leave her side almost as much as Nesta wasn’t ready to leave his. She should say no but she knew that wasn’t on the menu for the night.

“Wait here I shouldn’t be long.” He nodded and she headed to the booth where she had left Elain. She was talking to some guy with long red hair, smiling happily. Nesta had never seen the guy before and was immediately put on edge as she approached the duo.

“Nesta, you’re back!” Elain said as she smiled up at her older sister. “Where’d you get the jacket?” she frowned as she noticed the new piece of clothing Nesta had acquired.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugged the question off and her sister seemed to accept it by the way her shoulders dropped. “I just had a drink spilled on me but it’s no big deal. Anyway I’m headed home so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Elain nodded. “Good night Nesta,” she added as her sister began to turn away. Nesta looked back to return the sentiment but Elain had already turned back to the man next to her. She could only hope the night continued to go well for her.

“Feyre!” Nesta shouted to the new bartender pulling her away from the man she had been talking to most of the night. Nesta looked at him as his gaze turned to her. His eyes were violet, almost matching the color of the building’s sign. His hair had a blur or purple tint to it, but was pure darkness besides that. His skin was the same tone as Cassian’s, maybe slightly lighter but Nesta couldn’t tell in the dark.

“What’s up,” her sister said as she came to the side of the bar Nesta stood at. She was washing a glass with a wet rag. She watched Feyre for a moment before shaking her head and meeting the eyes that matched her own.

“I’m heading out,” she said pointing to the back door where she noticed Cassian stood by still waiting for her. “The hulking body over there spilled his drink on me and now wants to walk me home as an apology.” For some reason Nesta felt more comfortable sharing this with Feyre rather than Elain, maybe because she knew her youngest sister was more experienced with men than the other.

“That also where you got the jacket?” Feyre asked looking from Cassian to her sister with a smirk on her face. She wiggled her eyebrows at Nesta as she set the glass back on a shelf at her feet.

“Yes,” Nesta didn’t see the point in hiding that fact after she had shared everything else with her sister. Feyre smiled brighter, a smile Nesta had never seen directed at her, especially coming from her youngest sister.

“Well good for you sis.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” the male towards the end of the bar chuckled drawing both the Archeron’s attention to him.

“Might want to tell my brother that,” he pointed to Cassian. “I think I can see his boner from here.” He took a sip of his drink with a smile that was really more of a suggestive smirk.

“He’s your brother?” Nesta asked incredulously. “You look nothing alike.”

“Not by blood,” the new stranger explained. “We grew up together along with another one of my friends who seems to have disappeared on me again.” The man turned on his stool looking around the bar, or what he could see of it at least. “Anyone seen a dashing fellow with his face glued to his phone?”

“‘Dashing fellow’?” Feyre questioned using air quotation marks as she said the phrase.

“I’ve been watching a lot of period dramas in my spare time,” he sighed as he turned back to the bar, taking another drink.

“Try reading them when you’re done,” Nesta told him.

“I’ll get a personal list from you.”

“Nesta,” she told him without a second thought. He gave her a quizzical look in response not yet understanding her meaning. “If I’m going to be giving you book recommendations in the future you should know my name.”

“In that case I’m Rhysand, Rhys for short.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake. She noticed his hand didn’t swallow hers as much as Cassian’s had and she kind of hated that it didn’t.

“I should get going,” Nesta said as she pulled her hand back. “The beer is really starting to stick and I’m beyond uncomfortable,” both Feyre and Rhys laughed at that. “Nice to meet you Rhys. Good night Feyre.”

“Try not to wake up your neighbors!” Feyre called out as she walked away. Without turning back Nesta flipped her sister off causing an uproar of laughter from both Feyre and Rhys. she shook her head as she headed for the back door where Cassian waited.

“Ready?” Cassian asked holding an arm out for her. She took and they began their journey without another word.

“I met your brother,” Nesta said as their feet met the sidewalk and the door to the bar closed behind them. “Rhys.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” she laughed at the joke smiling at him.

“Can I tell you something?” Nesta asked as her laughter died down.

“Sure.”

“I’m not usually comfortable with strangers,” she began. “Yet for some reason with you I am. It’s like I met you before.”

“You could have,” Cassian shrugged after a moment. “In another life that is.”

“You believe in that?”

“You don’t?”

“I suppose you might have a point.” Nesta smiled up at him and Cassian smiled down at her. The smiles didn’t disappear the whole way to here apartment, nor when they said good night and he headed home alone. They didn’t fade as both of them wrapped up in their beds and fell into a peaceful slumber.

(Let me know if you want to be tagged!)

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #acofas #a court of frost and starlight #acotar fanfic #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #rhysand #cassian #azriel #elriel #nessian #feysand #lucien vanserra #sjm #sjmaas #sarah j maas #sool #scars of our lives #sool fanfic #morrigan #amren #my fics

[talesfromthesnogbox]

Open and Honest

I’m a sucker for Mike/Hopper heart to hearts so here we are. Spoiler warning for Season 3 of Stranger Things! Anyways, I just wanted to write something! (ps what the fuck happened to that line thingy I used to use literally all the time)

Summary: It's been two years, but Hopper suddenly feels that he should continue his talk about boundaries... but this time, he wants to get it right.

Rating: General Audiences

aO3

~~~

Three hundred and seventy two days. It had been just over a full year that Hopper was detained in that hellhole in Russia, but now, he was home.

Well, not home per se. He was only a little bit surprised to hear that Joyce had gone through with her plans of moving to Maine, but it warmed his heart to know that she’d taken El with her.

It took months for Hopper to get back on his feet. Severely malnourished and exhausted beyond belief was the state that he was brought home in, and Joyce had done everything in her power to make it better. He wanted to be strong, he wanted to get better quickly, but it was a hard journey. Eventually, he did; as the months passed, the Hopper-Byers household witnessed him transform back into the reliable, loving, although sometimes misguided, man he’d been before he left.

He’d finally gotten that date with Joyce (although, not at Enzo’s), and though it had been a long time coming, the two made it official over Christmas. Not long after that (with some hesitation from Joyce), the family had agreed on moving back to Hawkins.

Nearly two years had passed since the initial move, and everyone was excited to have the party back together again, especially El. All she’d talked about the whole time they packed was how Lucas was going to teach her his favourite arcade games, Max was going to take her shopping, Dustin was going to take her to some movie called Spaceballs, but Mike… Mike was always the main topic of conversation.

Hopper wasn’t surprised to hear that his daughter was still with the scrawny kid who’d found her in the woods all those years ago. She’d always been entranced with him, so he thought it was puppy love, but now, they’d just turned sixteen, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it had turned into something more serious.

El had practically begged Hopper to let him come stay for the night last month for her sixteenth birthday. He didn’t want to give in to her, but he did, and boy had that boy ever changed.

Mike was tall. Like, really tall. Hopper hadn’t expected to almost be eye-level with the kid. He was still awkward and lanky as ever, but he’d grown into his features, and still looked at El like she’d hung the moon. The two were not kids anymore, but that didn’t mean that Hop had to like it.

“Remember the three inch rule!” He’d yelled as El dragged Mike up to her bedroom and rolled her eyes.

“Jim, lay off them a bit, it’s her birthday, she’s sixteen now.” Joyce spoke softly, dragging him away from the stairs.

“I will not lay off them, I remember exactly what my girlfriend and I were doing on my sixteenth birthday, and I do not wish to know my daughter and her boyfriend are following in my footsteps.”

“They’re good kids, Jim, and they’re not like that. El talks to me about this kind of stuff; her and Mike… they aren’t there yet.”

Hopper sighs, collapsing on the couch. Realization washes over him as he replays Joyce’s words in his head. She was right, they’re both good kids, a little mouthy, but he knew Mike respected him, and El. They’d been apart for so many months, maybe a few hours together alone wasn’t the worst.

“Fuck, I’m such an asshole.” He whispered, feeling ashamed with himself for being so hard on them.

“You’re a dad, you don’t want to see your little girl get hurt.” Joyce sat beside him and rubbed his arm lightly. “Sure, you can kinda be an asshole when it comes to Mike, but… we were friends in high school, I can see why you’re so protective of her around him.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… you had quite the reputation of a heartbreaker.”

Hop had no rebuttal; he knew Joyce was right. Mike wasn’t him, and he would never intentionally hurt El.

He started to get up, but Joyce stopped him. “Where are you going?”

“I did a bad thing, I scared the shit outta him, and it made them break up after that little boundaries talk. I need to go talk to him about it, tell the kid I don’t hate him.”

“Wait, right now? Hop, that was two years ago. If you go up there, they’re gonna think you’re trying to stop them from whatever’s going on.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Why, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, that’s my point. Give them their space, Hop. This is their time together.”

He reluctantly sat back down beside her, but he knew this conversation had to happen.

~~~

The move back to Hawkins went as smooth as a move possibly could have gone. Within a few weeks, the patchwork family was in their new home, and it only took a few days of being back for all the kids to settle back into their old routines.

It was the summer of 1987, and much like two years prior, Mike Wheeler made a daily appearance at the Hopper household.

“Come on Hop, what happened to the big apology speech you were going to give them a few months ago?” Joyce teased.

“That was before I had to see his smug little face every day, knowing he’s up there defiling my daughter.”

Joyce smacked him across the arm. “He’s not defiling her Jim, what they’re doing is perfectly innocent. And what exactly were you were doing in high school?”

“I wasn’t! I was… I was… oh shut up.”

“That’s what I thought. This is important, Jim, it’s only going to get worse from here if he thinks you don’t like him. Don’t give them a reason to have to sneak around behind your back, just be open and honest with them.”

“Open and honest, got it.”

The two teens in question chose that exact moment to come bolting down the stairs.

“I’m just walking Mike out, I’ll be right back!” El shouted from the front door.

Hop looked towards Joyce, her eyebrows rising, and he knew now was a better time than ever. He sighed, and followed the two teens to the front porch.

Of course they were kissing when he opened the door. “Oh god, um El, can—can you give us a few minutes?”

El looked at him questioningly, but it was Mike that spoke. “S-sure, I was just leaving. I’ll call you when I get home El, okay?”

The girl nodded and kissed her boyfriend chastely once more before disappearing inside.

“Wh—is something the matter Chief?”

“It’s… it’s um…” He tried to remember any bit of the speech he and Joyce had written, but that was a whole two years ago, he would have to go off books for this. “Have a seat kid.”

“Mike sat beside him on the small porch. “Am I in some kind of trouble?”

“No, no you’re not in any trouble Mike. It’s just… um… I want to apologize.”

He frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I follow.” Mike replied after a moment.

“I… I know it was like two years ago at this point, and I don’t even know if you remember, but you were right, I was a lying piece of shit.”

Mike paled, remembering the conversation well. “Oh… well I was being a complete asshole to you too, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Hopper chuckled and put his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Yeah kid, you kind of were. But that’s beside the point; I’m sorry, I was uncomfortable with how close you and El had gotten, I felt you were too young to be together like that all the time, and I was being a little too protective of El. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that on you, and I shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to lie to El because of it.” That wasn’t so hard, was it.

“Th-thanks Chief, but why are you saying all this now?”

“Because I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, and I don’t want you or El to feel like you have to sneak around behind my back; that’s the last thing I want, trust me, I used to do a lot of sneaking around at your age.” He sighed and wiped his face. “Look Mike, you’re a good kid, and I know you and El love each other. I don’t want you to hate me, and I don’t want to hate you. In fact… I actually kinda like you; you’ve been real good for her. I—I was locked up for a little over a year, and I had a whole lot of time to think about whether or not my daughter hated me for splitting you two up. You two are going to be a permanent fixture around here by the looks of things, so I want you to feel comfortable coming into my home.”

Mike smiled. “Thanks Chief.”

“But that being said, there does need to be some boundaries. I don’t know if you’ve got a curfew, but she does. Eleven thirty on the dot, you’re outta here, and don’t even think about sneaking in through her window. Tried that once when I was your age, her parents didn’t appreciate having to bring me to the ER for a broken ankle at two in the morning.”

Mike spit out a laugh, but swallowed it as soon as Hopper hit him with a glare.

“Three inch rule still applies until further notice. I know you guys think you’re all old and mature now that you’re sixteen, but you’re still kids, and still under my roof, and still following my rules. And I swear to god Wheeler, if I find out you’ve pressured her, or forced her into doing something she’s not comfortable with—”

“Wow, wow, hold on,” Mike interjected, “I love her and I would never… I always make sure we’re on the same page whenever—”

“Whenever what?”

Mike flushed. “It’s—it’s not like that yet. We’re not like that. But, when the time comes in… in a couple of years, I promise you I’ll ask her if it’s okay.”

“Good answer.”

He nodded, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. “Thank you Hopper, you’re a good dad, and we’re all happy you’re home.”

Jim knew how strained a relationship Mike and Ted had, so it meant a lot for him to say that. “Welcome, kid. I’m glad I’m back too. Missed you guys, all of you.” He bumped Mike with his shoulder, shooting him a friendly smile. “Alright, I better get in there before my daughter thinks I’m burying your body.”

Mike smiled and walked towards his bike. “See you tomorrow, Hop.”

“Yep, I sure will.” And for once, just once, he really didn’t mind it.

#mileven #mileven fic #stranger things fic #jopper #jopper fic #stranger things 3 spoilers #my writing

[sevenseasofrog]

Lads ‘n Lasses Chapter 4

single sex schools are never boring

high school!ben x fem!reader

2.7k words

a/n: lol hi, Me for the first time in about 10 billion years. I kind of hate this Chapter?? But I’ll put the next part up tomorrow which should be better :-)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

As the autumn colours became deeper and the summer temperatures began to fade, you began to feel as though you were dragging yourself through each day, the thought of your plush duvet at the end of it keeping you motivated. Luckily enough though, it wasn’t just you who the changing seasons effected, and your friends were also beginning to look a little more disheveled with each morning that passed by, and it soon became clear that everyone was desperately in need of a break from the school routine. By the final week of term, motivation to even get out of bed each morning was severely lacking, and it seemed to be the same for Ben. Some mornings the pair of you didn’t even have the energy to speak, still content in each others company though, leaning on each other when you finally flopped down on the tram’s plastic seats.

You hadn’t forgotten that you were supposed to be coordinating your friend’s costumes for the mysterious Halloween party you knew very little about, but it definitely wasn’t your top priority- especially since your workload in and out of school had increased rapidly only a few weeks after the start of the new term. Since the gathering was set to take place on Friday, it was Tuesday that you figured you had to at least start thinking about how terrible you wanted your four closest friends to look. After a few hours of careful consideration and research you found yourself rather impressed with what you had come up with. If they wanted a group costume, a group costume they were going to get. It was perfect, inducing childhood nostalgia and characters which seemed to parallel your friends personalities, the five of you were going as none other than the Scooby-Doo gang. You couldn’t help but feel at least a bit proud of your master plan, but decided to keep it under wraps, just to add to the suspense. You spent the rest of that night drawing out meticulous plans, giving yourself Thursday and Friday to finish them. Out of instinct however you left the next day free, knowing that it was highly likely you would be spending the evening out somewhere to celebrate the beginning of the short break from school.

As he had done for the past five weeks or so, Ben had waited patiently outside your house for you to stumble out the front door, usually looking a little disheveled. Believe it or not, this was one of the things he had begun to admire most about you, little to your knowledge. The fact that your hair sometimes fell across your face, still messy from the previous nights sleep, and more often than not you would have acrylic paint splodged over you like some form of radioactive dalmatian. Both of these were the little things Ben had started to pay more and more attention to, and he couldn’t help but find himself smile whenever he thought of you.

“Last day of your first half term then Benny boy” you spoke with a grin. “Ready to go back down South yet or can you handle a little more of this?”

He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “I think I’ll cope y’know, maybe a little longer, might even make it to Christmas!”

“You bloody better Jones! otherwise I’ll have no reason to even leave the house in the morning, then I’ll drop out of school, adopt a load of cats and drink cheap wine every day because I never got any a levels.”

“What a pity that would be” He retorted, with blatant sarcasm. You rolled your eyes and gave a gentle shove before the pair of you continued the walk to the tram stop in a content silence.

Eventually, you made your way onto a tram and flopped down on each other. You closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of the autumn sun and found yourself dozing a little, this didn’t last long however.

Ben flicked your cheek before he spoke, “y/n, wake up you big loser, what are we doing after school?”

“I was wondering how long it would be before you asked, I don’t really care though. Won’t it just be easier to wait till the others get on and ask them?”

“We’re seeing them on Friday though, and Saturday I guess, and probably most of next week too”

“You have a most interesting way of thinking Jonsey. But you’re not wrong. What are you suggesting?” You spoke, followed by a smirk, “Won’t you be seeing me today, tomorrow, the day after that and next week however?”

“Shutup and come to mine tonight okay? We can have a takeaway from wherever you want and we can make up shitty excuses as to why we can’t do anything with the others because right now I can’t really be bothered with anyone else.”

You felt a little taken aback, but unsure as to why. Ben had spoken with a twinge of emotion in his voice, and suddenly seemed a little wound up- most out of character.

“Alright. You got me, but only if we’re having a chinese?

“Suits me”, he spoke with a smile, seeming somewhat relieved, before you both sank into each other in the seats. Even making the cold plastic seem a little more comfortable.

School has been productive. Well, as productive as you could have made it given that you only had some art coursework to finish and given that Ben’s sudden decision that he didn’t want to see anyone else that evening was playing on your mind. You had scrubbed the last of the dried acrylic paint off the battered brushes you had kept for god knows how long and were about to put them back into your bag before being interrupted by the lunch bell. Figuring you should reconvene with Maria and Niamh, you began to head towards the common room so that you could grab some lunch before heading to the library for the rest of the afternoon.

“y/n! hello? care to join us here on planet earth?” Niamh waved a hand in front of you, you had forgotten about your mediocre salad and had started daydreaming mid-conversation.

“shit yeah, sorry, just tired, i was sorting out the outfits for friday until like 2 this morning or something like that”

Maria chimed in too at mention of Friday, “oh yeah! the costumes, I’d forgotten about those, they’d better be-“

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, undoubtedly your mum checking if you were staying in school or leaving after lunch. “One sec, let me just check this”

Benny:

Call me when you can. i’m going home.

You couldn’t help but wonder whad gotten into the boy, shocked by the sudden character change, you figured this was your call to leave and find out what the hell was going on with Ben. Now all you needed was an excuse to leave.

“Shit, sorry, erm… it’s my mum…she’s locked herself out and needs me to let her back into the house…” You scrambled to pack your bag and put your blazer back on “duty calls… I’ll see you on Friday night yeah?” You signed out at student services and began to walk towards the met stop.

benny: incoming call

“Ben what the hell are you playing at? where the fuck are you?” You heard the frustration in your own voice and couldn’t help but regret it.

“Why do you sound like your running a marathon?” Because I’m speed walking like a lunatic to come and find you thank you. “I’m nearly at the tram stop.”

“Right, ok… wait for me… I’m nearly there”

“see you then.” He hung up.

You continued the walk, thoughts racing, surely someone had just said something to wind him up? Nothing worth overthinking really? You eventually found Ben after what seemed like an eternity of walking and he stank of smoke, he had a cigarette between his lips and it was certainly not the first one of the day. “You going to tell me why I had to up and leave or are we going to pretend it never happened?” You demanded.

“We’re not talking about it until we get home” He said, slightly muffled. As if on queue, one of the yellow trams pulled into the station and Ben put out his smoke before dragging himself onto the empty tram, you followed, still feeling slightly bedraggled. The boy threw himself onto one of the chairs, visibly frustrated, you sat on the row behind and began digging through your bag, simply looking for something to do.

The tram ride was long, painfully so. The silence between the two of you was deafening, something you never expected to happen, but it was clear that Ben needed space from the moment you met back with him. You reached your stop and the two of you stood up, briefly making eye contact with each other.

“I need to erm, get some fresh clothes from mine if that’s okay...on the way to yours..These aren’t exactly.. y’know.. comfortable” You spoke, gesturing at the suit you had worn the past two days.

He gave a curt nod, and you continued the walk away from the platform. You quickly unlocked your front door and shoved a few essentials in a bag, along with an oversized shirt and some joggers, well aware that this would be a long night. Ben has waited downstairs, waiting to head back out again a little further down the road to his house.

It was definitely bigger than yours, and much more modern. It wasn’t that you disliked newer houses, you just felt a somewhat alienated stepping into something that felt more like a spaceship than a house. Each to their own though- that’s what you had always figured.

“Gonna tell me what’s got you in a tizz or do I get the joy of guessing?” Desperate for some hint of the Ben you knew to return.

“We’ll go upstairs first yeah, then we can get changed or whatever” He began to trudge up the stairs and you followed. By the time you caught up with him in his room, Ben already had half of his clothes off, and although now definitely wasn’t the best time, you had to admit to yourself that topless Ben certainly wasn’t a sorry sight as you slipped into the marble en-suite.

“You’re killing me Ben. What’s happened for the love of God?”

“People happened.”

You checked yourself over before unlatching the bathroom door again. For the record, the old grey pants paired with the extra large shirt you had brought at some past gig certainly wasn’t your best look, but it was going to have to do for now.

“C’mon grumpy you can tell me all about it like i’m your very own agony aunt” You grabbed his wrist and flopped onto the bed,causing Ben to follow with a thud.

“So what have people done to you to cause such a commotion Benny? You’ve never been like this and you’ve got me proper fussing about you” He rolled onto his back and began to speak.

“They’ll do anything to drag you through the dirt. I haven’t put a foot out of line and half of the idiots at school have decided they don’t like me for it. It’s so fucking stupid I don’t know why it’s bothering me...It just is and I could honestly-“

“Ben it’s probably pissing you off because that’s a normal human emotion I’m afraid…”

“But it’s not just that and it’s another stupid thing honestly I don’t know what my problem is because it’s got nothing to do with me and-“

“One thing at a time okay? Start at the beginning and then if you want, you can tell me what else is getting to you.”

You felt bad for Ben, you really did, he hadn’t done anything wrong and it was clear he didn’t have much experience in handling his emotions. You threw a packet if tissues at him after he began to snivel and kept brushing his face. It was clear he trust you, this was something which brought a strange relief over you that you couldn’t quite explain. The main thing you could do do help Ben was to listen to him, and boy was he glad that the pair of you had all night.

You had migrated downstairs at around 8pm to order food, normally you would have both sprawled out separately over two of the three sofas in the front room, but when you came back from a trip to the kitchen for glasses of water, Ben had parked himself at the end of where you were sat.

“I was cold.” He looked up at you, as if trying to read your thoughts.

“I never said anything Jones! If it was anyone else I’d have told them to move but I think you can be an acception” You had honestly been expecting some sort of reply, and it came as a bit of a shock to you when you looked up to find Ben staring at the t.v. absentmindedly.

“Ben? what’s up?”

“Sorry it’s just, it’s not worth it don’t worry..” he trailed off

You have a stern look, “Anything you think or say is worth my time Ben, I really mean it.”

“It’s just. Jones. that’s what they call me, at school and, I don’t really know why it bothers me but… I’m not Jones, I’m Ben and, it bothers me-“ His eyes had gone slightly glassy again, “It bothers me because they don’t care about me, they care that I score tries and bring the team up the leaderboard. That’s Jones. I don’t even think Ben likes rugby, but what else can you do when it’s expected of you.”

“One thing at a time yeah?”

“I told you it’s stupid”

“yeah you did, and I completely disagree, it’s Benny from now on”

“No one's ever really called me that to be honest..”

“Does it bother you?”

“I think I like it.. but only you can get away with it from now on”

You leaned back onto him as the pair of you waited for the takeaway to arrive, you had sincerely hoped that Ben felt a little better at least, it was glaringly clear that he was more worried that unloading his problems would simply pass them onto you, and you had taken the opportunity to reassure him that you weren’t there to judge him at several opportunities.

You had been talking about this and that until a wave of fatigue hit you at what must have been around half one in the morning, Ben had insisted that you should go upstairs and sleep in his bed and he would take the sofa.

“Ben you’re my best friend I’m pretty sure I can cope with sharing a bed with you, we’ll both be out like lights when we get up there anyway”

You both made your way up the stairs, leaving the remainder of the takeaway to deal with in the morning, and fell onto the the mountain of crisp white pillows. You burrowed your way under the duvet, waiting for Ben to follow. “Y’know.. this is really comfy. Makes my bed feel like a fabulous pile of rocks.”

“Does the job I suppose”

“à le matin mon aimie”

“à demain”

You felt yourself drifting into a deep slumber, unsure as to weather or not Ben was still talking. “I know it’s late but are you awake?” You gave a grunt, which the boy opposite you took as a response.

“At school right.. well where else would it be.. and I don’t know if it’s true but I thought I’d tell you just in case but erm.. People were saying Lewis has a thing for you and I know you’re supposed to be my best mate but it bothers me because-“ he gave a sigh. “It bothers me because I think I like you, and I know it’s only been two months, but you’re more than I could ask for in a friend and-“ He realised that he had been greeted with silence. “y/n” Ben had to admit to himself that he was a little disappointed when he realised you hadn’t heard a word he said, already fast asleep. He wasn’t sure if he’d tell you again in the morning, or if it would ruin what he felt was one of the best things he had in a long time.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

@fatbottomedbitch , @crazyweirdocalledfriday , @borhapandshawn , @benhardyjones , @simplyvictoria-93 , @virtualsheepeat

Sorry that my tag list is a bit dodgey, pretty sure that usernames have changed so let me know if you want adding :) xoxo

#bohemian rhapsody #ben hardy #brian may #queen #roger taylor #bo rhap #queen band #freddie mercury #joe mazzello #john deacon #ben!roger imagine #ben!roger x reader #ben hardy!roger x reader #ben!roger taylor #ben hardy! roger taylor #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #lads ‘n lasses

[ravenchaitea]

Hello out there! I don't know how many of you followed this blog just for the P5 content itself and how many followed it because of my fic writing. Either way, I'm flattered! For any of ya'll that are interested, I've started a new P5 Pegoryu fic and I'll be posting a preview of the first chapter here. Eventually it'll move to Archive.

Summaries are not my thing, but here goes nothin’: 

Ryuji's two years out of graduating from the Colony Defense Force program when he gets his first real assignment in deep space. It's not something in his field as a fighter pilot, he'll basically be acting as a glorified ambulance driver. If he can pull it off, in a year he can put in for a transfer. It might be his only chance. He's never been good at following the chain of command and he doesn't shine academically, but he knows ships. He knows how to fly them, build them, repair them. It's the only reason he was able to get into the program in the first place. It's the only thing he's good at.

He’s surprised when someone takes notice, especially when that someone is Commander Akira Kurusu. The man is the youngest war hero in Earth Colonies history. He was there during the fall of Shido, when the entire planet was wiped off the map. Now he’s a walking poster child for the Alliance of Emergency Medical Services, AMES. He leads a specialized team that travels from planet to planet, offering aid when needed. It’s the complete opposite of everything Ryuji was trained to do, but he’s finding it impossible to say no. Especially when he’s going to be serving under such an attractive commander. 

Act. 1.1

On the Earth colony planet of Kamoshida, the sun is going down, bathing everything in a honey-orange glow. Acres of tall yellow grass grow up from the ground. The stalks roll like waves, stirred up by a mild evening breeze. Ryuji Sakamoto sits on the hood of his silver hover car, hands folded neatly behind his head as the last light of day bakes heat into his skin. He strains to keep his eyes open, drifting in and out of a lazy afternoon nap. It's one of the few moments he's had to himself since spring ended.  

They say Kamoshida is the closet of the Earth colony planets to resemble Old-Earth. It's the only planet in the sector to have a true four season cycle, making it ideal for growing most Earth staples. The planet's major export is its crops, providing more than half of the colonies' food supply. The entire population of the Kamoshida colony is involved with the farming efforts, growing, selling, or packing. Ryuji's family happens to be fifth generation bean growers.  

He opens his eyes and lifts his hands up in front of his face, studying his oil-stained fingers. He's supposed to be working on his hovercar but he can't muster up the energy. Between school and chores, his free time has been limited. This is to say nothing of the spring sowing and all the extra chores that came with that. Their farm is one of the smallest in the area and he's always been expected to help wherever he can. His father won't tolerate laziness. Any time spent working on his car definitely falls into that category.    

He's been putting on the finishing touches for weeks, pushing himself towards the goal of being able to take it out. Although 'out' is a bit of an overstatement. He won't legally be allowed to take it anywhere besides ground streets for two more years. Air flight is restricted to the eighteen and up crowd. Despite that, he figures two years is nothing compared to the four it's taken him to get it all put together. It was little more than an empty chasse full of scraps when he brought it home from the junkyard. A fact his father continues to lord over him every chance he gets, even with all the progress he's made on it.  

He's poured all his monthly allowance into buying parts and making needed repairs. What he couldn't afford, well-... He figures it's all stuff that won't be missed. It needs fresh paint and to have the chrome touched up, but there's time for that later. Having a ground vehicle will at least get him away from the house on weekends. Plus there's a point of pride to be had in being the only one in his circle of friends with a car.  

His hazy mind is busy going over possible paint combinations when he catches himself dozing off for real. He allowed himself to be lulled into sleep by the darkening sky and the warm pre-summer air. He forces his eyes open and glances up, able to see the beginning of stars among the pale pink hues of atmosphere. His body is bone tired and for a few more minutes he lies still, fatigued from weeks of not getting enough sleep. He thinks it odd that someone of his age should feel so run down. There's no time to dwell on that though. His mother will be finishing up dinner and he's expected to be home to set the table.

He slides down off the hood and begins the short walk through the fields to get back to the house. When he emerges from the sea of tall grass he sees his father's truck in the driveway. It's an instant disappointment. Friday nights are usually the night his father stays in town after work to have a drink and 'catch up with the boys'. It's a rarity for him to forego bar time for family time. Ryuji crosses the yard at a slow pace, dragging his feet to stave off the inevitable. The thought of sitting down to eat with his drunkard father is more than he can stand.  

As he's approaching the house his wristwatch display lights up, receiving an incoming call. He pauses just off the porch to answer it, waiting for the video connection to buffer. The eager expression of his longtime friend and classmate Takeishi appears on the screen.  

"What's up?"  

"We still on for tonight?" Takeishi asks and the question throws Ryuji for a moment. Had they made plans? He thinks they might have made plans. "Y'know. Captain Kidd's ship. Parked at the shipyard."  

"Oh shit," Ryuji breathes as his chest lights up with excitement. "Man, I totally forgot about it."  

"How the hell did you forget?"  

"Spring sowin', remember? We've gotta get the fields resown before summer rolls around. I've been busy."  

Takeishi studies him for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in concern, "You good?"  

"I'm okay," Ryuji assures him. It's not exactly a lie, at the moment he's fine. He's tired. Worn down from weeks spent working in close quarters with his father. From trying to meet the man's impossible expectations. "We're meetin' at midnight in old man Iwai's cornfield, right?. Hope you and Nakaoka don't bail on me this time."  

"I wasn't the one who bailed."  

"I'm serious, man. If you guys don't show I'm goin' in alone."  

"We'll be there." Takeishi insists though it does nothing to diminish Ryuji's doubt. "See ya."  

"Yeah." Ryuji sighs, tapping the end call button. Inside he can hear his father's voice. It's more the tone than actual words and he already sounds riled up about something. He ascends the porch stairs and presses himself against the wall beside the front door. He's trying to give himself a moment of composure before he goes in.

He doesn't want to deal with this right now.  

"Hey," He calls out as he pushes the front door open. From his vantage point, he can see into the kitchen. His mother is standing with her back against the counter and her arms crossed over her chest. She widens her eyes at him, a silent warning for him to tread cautiously. He kicks his shoes off and nudges them into neat alignment by his father's work boots. He crosses the living room and turns the corner to his father seated at the dining table.  

"The hell you been?" The older man demands, swinging one of his worn hands towards the table. "I come home from bustin' my ass and your mother can't even get dinner on the table because you're off god knows where."  

"Yes sir," It's less of an agreement and more of a neutral answer. Ryuji knows he's already on thin ice and he's not about to make things worse by arguing.

"Welcome home," His mother offers, a subtle change in the conversation. He hates this. Friday night dinners are usually their thing. It's the one night of the week they don't have to tiptoe around his father.  

"Go ahead and sit down, Ma," Ryuji insists, guiding her towards the table. He washes his hands clean at the sink and gathers the plates from the cabinet. He has to reach around his parents to set the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his father watching him. He's looking for a reason to yell at him again. Wordlessly Ryuji serves the food and grabs his father a bottle of beer from the fridge. On his way to his chair, he sets a light hand atop his mother's shoulder hoping to reassure her. She pats his fingers lightly in acknowledgment. The whole exchange is missed by the man at the head of the table as he pries the lid off his beer and takes a long drink of it.

Ryuji watches in silent disgust as some of the foamy liquid pools at the side his father's mouth and runs down his chin. His entire face looks like well-worn leather. It's creased and tanned by his many long days working in the fields. He runs equally aged fingers across his spotty stubble covered chin, wiping the beer away in an almost thoughtful gesture. He sets the bottle down and clears his throat before taking up his utensils to begin the meal. Neither Ryuji nor his mother dares to start eating before he does, lest they affront him.  

"Spring harvest was profitable this year," He announces, sounding almost on the verge of pride. There's no doubt in Ryuji's mind that his father spent most of his day in town stroking his own ego. Beans are not a big spring crop and their farm has been mostly dormant since winter. That doesn't stop Ryuji's father from acting as if the entire town's spring harvest is his own personal success story. 

"Ryuji,"  

"Yeah?" He's surprised by his father's calm use of his name. He sets his fork down beside his plate and lifts his eyes up to meet the older man's. They're the color of a stormy ocean and dark, cold, and dimly glazed over from the alcohol. Ryuji's always been thankful that he got his mother's brown eyes. He hopes that they somehow make him look more like her and less like his dad.    

"Y'worked real hard these past couple months. Don't think I didn't notice."  

"Uh, thank you," Ryuji replies, feeling his guard go up and his hands curl into fists on reflex. It's not often that the man offers him praise and it usually doesn't come without strings attached. His father rises to his feet, his body swaying under the effects of the alcohol. The half beer that sits on the table is a pallet cleanser for whatever hard stuff he drank before coming home. It's a wonder he was able to drive without causing an accident. Sometimes Ryuji wishes he would crash. It's not malicious but out of a desire to keep him off the road and away from other people. It's easy to picture his father drunkenly swerving in front of somebody else's family.  

His stomach lurches at the thought, the feeling intensified by the sudden approach. The man stands over him like a tree shadow, blocking out the kitchen lights. It casts darkness over him. He turns his head upwards to meet his father's eyes. He strains to keep a straight face as the scent of alcohol on his father's breath wafts down over him like a heavy fog. The older man smiles a grin of yellowing teeth and brings his hand down to clap over Ryuji's shoulder. He flinches away, a sharp jerk of his muscles that's more memory than anything else. The reaction doesn't go unnoticed.  

"The fuck, Ryuji?" His father breathes, training his callused fingers up the back of Ryuji's neck to grip a handful of his hair. Across the table, his mother sits up straighter in her chair. He body is tense with nerves as she prepares to intervene. Ryuji prays that she doesn't, wills her to sit still and stay quiet. "I'm not gonna hit you."  

He definitely would, and has.  

"I was gonna say," He continues, gripping his hair a bit tighter, bordering the point where it becomes painful. Ryuji takes measured breaths to force his body to relax and like a cue, it eases his father's hold on him. Almost affectionately he runs his weathered fingers up through the top of his hair to tussle it. "-that since you helped out so much, I'll give you a bigger allowance this month so you can get your car fixed up."  

"Really?" Ryuji forces enthusiasm into his voice because he needs to act accordingly. "Thank you. I appreciate that."  

"I've never been prouder. Makes me think you've got more than shit for brains after all. Might have someone worthy of passing the fields down to someday."  

Ryuji pointedly ignores the insult.  

His father turns unsteadily on his toes and almost falls over in an attempt to seat himself. He shakes it off and returns to his food. Ryuji and his mother follow suit and for the rest of the meal, he's forced to avoid his mother's concern filled eyes. His father continues to ramble, making small talk and bad mouthing his bar friends. It's a one-sided conversation. He's too drunk and too into his rant to notice that no one's paying attention to him.  

Ryuji continues to mindlessly force food into his mouth, though he can't taste it anymore. Twice he has to pause to keep it from coming back up, his stomach so tied into knots that it's making him nauseous. He doesn't have to suffer for very long, his father begins to doze in and out of consciousness at the table. His mother stands and coaxes her husband to his feet. She leads him down the hallway to their bedroom, guiding his wobbly footsteps the entire way. Ryuji turns his attention to clearing the table and putting the leftovers away.  

It's half past ten when his mother emerges from the bedroom, looking exhausted and frustrated. She enters the kitchen and makes a beeline for the fridge. She almost rips the handle off the freezer door as she yanks it open. Ryuji grabs two spoons from the silverware drawer and waits while she chooses a flavor of ice cream.  

"Feels like a mint chocolate chip sort of night," She mumbles, to herself more than anyone. The two of them sit side by side at the table, sliding the pint back and forth, eating in silence. Ryuji thinks it would be comical if it wasn't also so damn sad.  

"Hey," Ryuji begins, watching as she carves out a large spoonful of ice cream for herself. She glances up at him, prompting him to continue as she tries to find a way to fit the entire oversized scoop into her mouth. "I'm gonna go hang out with Nakaoka and Takeishi tonight."  

"Mmm," She muses, raising her eyebrows in a clear question of 'Oh yeah?'.  

"It's not a school night and I'm pretty sure that he," -the drunken idiot in the bedroom, "isn't going to wake up anytime soon."  

"It's getting pretty late."  

"You really gonna try and pull the curfew thing on me?"

Narrowing her eyes, she points her spoon threateningly in his direction, "It's my right as a mother."  

"I have to get out of here. At least for a little while," He presses, glancing over his shoulder towards their bedroom door. "If you let me go out, you can lay down in my room and get some decent sleep. We can swap beds when I come back." 

"Where are you going exactly?"  

"We're gonna troll around old man Iwai's corn field. Might go down to the lake or somethin'."  

"I hope you realize you're going to have to learn to lie better," She sighs. She takes her spoon and begins to scrape at the bottom of the ice cream carton, hoping to get one final bite out of it. "Fine, but you need to be back before sunrise. And I mean before sunrise."

"I will be," Ryuji swears, leaping to his feet with a sudden surge of new energy. He takes the stairs up to his room two at a time, though his footsteps are measured and quiet. He's not about to risk waking his father up, even though he knows that the man is out for the night. He gathers his backpack and throws his tools into it. Screwdrivers, wrenches, portable laser torch, he runs through a quick mental inventory to make sure he has everything.  

He grabs his ComTab off his bed and sends a quick text message off to his friends to remind them of the time and place. He tosses the tablet into his backpack and tiptoes rapidly back downstairs. His mother gives him an uneasy look as he brushes past her on the way out the door. Despite himself, he can't stand for her to be disappointed in him. As an act of good faith, he doubles back for a hug and promises once again to be back before sunrise.

He slips out the front door and sails over the porch steps and down the driveway. Old man Iwai's cornfield is a few miles down from his house. The night air is crisp and clear, it's temperature situated in the middle of warm and cool. It's the perfect atmosphere for a run. Sometimes Ryuji thinks he was born for it. He should have joined the track team with Nakaoka and Takeishi, but he knew it would be one more thing for his father to play against him. Still, it's a favorite past time to turn to when things get bad at home.  

It doesn't take him long to fall into a steady rhythm of feet on dirt road. The roads are from the early days of the colony, back when vehicles had actual wheels. Once hover crafts became the norm, the roads became more of a guideline for those who preferred to drive closer to the ground. Ryuji himself can't imagine wanting that. He's been dreaming of air flight since he was young. This is due in part to his admiration of Captain Kidd.  

Captain Kidd, like Ryuji, is from the colony of Kamoshida. Something of a local celebrity, he started his career as a well-known stunt pilot. Later he joined up with the Colony Defense Force and within a few years became captain of his own crew. They traverse the galaxy to fend off threats from hostile planets. Ryuji's been obsessed with him ever since the first broadcast of his trick flying. He's collected every holo-vid he could find and has spent hours watching them. The flips and spins are burned into his memory. Even as he jogs he can visualize it.  

It's the reason behind his meeting with Takeishi and Nakaoka. There's a rumor that Captain Kidd is in town visiting his family and that his famous stunt ship is with him. According to the rumor he's even parked it at the local shipyard. Ryuji isn't sure if he believes it, but he's not about to pass up an opportunity to find out. He's broken into the shipyard before to collect discarded parts or to look at the ships and cars. It's almost a joke that Captain Kidd would want to store his trick craft there.  

Their meeting place is on the far end of the Iwai cornfield, where the crops end abruptly and give way to an open flatland. He glances at the time on his watch, ten till midnight. He's the first to arrive, that is if his friends decide to show up. The last time they planned something like this the two boys bailed out, leaving Ryuji waiting for hours. Although, the mission to sneak into Ann Takemaki's sixteenth birthday party was a little less dire than their current plan.  

It's almost midnight on the dot when Takeishi and Nakaoka arrive, stepping free of the tall corn stalks. Takeishi is full of smug arrogance, hands tucked casually into his pockets, head held high. He's always been a bit full of himself, though it's a facade that always seems to crack when things become dicey. Nakaoka is reserved and somewhat nervous. He tries to be the voice of reason for the other two, but his words often fall on deaf ears. He frequently gets dragged into Ryuji and Takeishi's schemes. Although on this particular night, even he seems to be somewhat excited.  

"Told'ya we'd be here." Takeishi steps over to Ryuji and the two of them bump fists. Their knuckles crack together in a way that feels very manly.  

"I was about to go without you," Ryuji shoots back, hoisting his backpack further up onto his shoulders. "If I had any sense I would'a."  

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and start walking, Sakamoto."  

Ryuji is all too happy to fall into the role of leader, moving with confidence over the large expanse of flat land. Kamoshida's twin moons gleam overhead. They light the way as he guides them along a well-memorized path.  

Before they can get to the local shipyard they have to pass Kamoshida Commercial Shipyard. It's a literal metal city where all the off-world space ships dock. It's one of the larger ones on the planet, a center of commerce for all imported and exported goods between the colonies. Twice a month huge ships dock there to load or unload, staying only a few brief days before departing again.  

As they near the yard, bright overhead beams of light come into view. Steel rafters rise up like metal giants, dotted with high rising staircases and elevators. Skyscraper buildings intermingle with the docks, full of places for ship crews to spend their shore-time. It all feels very exclusive, surrounded all on sides by thick metal walls. They're designed to keep foreigners inside and locals outside. A huge impenetrable fortress in the middle of miles and miles of farmland.  

It's not their destination, but every time Ryuji passes by it, he has to stop to take it all in.  

"Wouldn't it be badass to go off world?" He breathes, turning his head around to look at Takeishi and Nakaoka. The two of them look just as awestruck, maybe more-so, since this isn't a common sight for them.  

"Those ships are huge," Nakaoka says, stepping up next to Ryuji. "I mean, I knew they were huge. They have to be to carry so much stuff, but I guess I didn't have a scale for it before now."  

"My dad works down on dock 37. He says that they're even bigger up close. Bigger than the buildings in the capital." says Takeishi, then adds as an afterthought, "I think about leaving this shitty planet all the time, but let's get real here. The only way any of us are going to make it off is if we join the defense force or the medical brigade. We're all too stupid for that."  

"Maybe you're too stupid. I bet I could get in. Sakamoto could get in if he got real good at fixing ships."  

"Yeah, you're probably right. He'd get himself a job doing custodial work or something."  

"I would not!" Ryuji protests, although they might be right. The only way he'd ever get off Kamoshida is if he got a crappy job on a transport ship. Although the alternative as a bean farmer isn't exactly appealing either. "Maybe I need to become a trick pilot like Captain Kidd."  

"What? You'd never be able to pull that off." Takeishi laughs the words into his face and Ryuji feels his blood heat up under his skin.  

"Why not?"  

"Sakamoto, you got beans for brains? The only thing you've ever piloted is a wheel-tractor. You don't even have your car up and running. What makes you think you're going to be able to do flight tricks?"  

"Guys, let's just go." Nakaoka intervenes right as Ryuji opens his mouth to reply. "If you guys get into a fight we'll never make it to the shipyard to see the ship. So let's just go."  

"Fine," Ryuji concedes for the moment, knowing that Nakaoka's right. He ignores Takeishi for the rest of the trek.  

The local public shipyard is a much less impressive sight. It's a large flat patch of concrete surrounded on all sides by a well worn and rusted chain link fence and an unfathomable amount of weeds. It's mostly a glorified parking lot with a few hangars on the far end. There's even a small collection of Old-Earth style vehicles, camper trailers, and trucks. Most of them are covered in thick layers of dust and surrounded by grass that pushed up through cracks in the concrete.  

"Where do you think he parked it?" Takeishi steps up to peer through the fence, or rather over the fence. It's so old and weak that it halfway hangs off of its support poles. "Inside one of the hangars?"  

"If it's in a hangar, there's no way we'll be able to get in to see it," Nakaoka mumbles, giving into defeat before they've even made it inside. How very typical of him.

"I've broken into this place to collect parts for my car," Ryuji says, stepping up to the fence beside Takeishi. He shifts his backpack around to the front and digs through it until he finds his portable laser torch. "Security is an old guy who falls asleep watchin' the monitors and outdated patrol robots. I don't think the keypads on the hangars work and even if they do I'm sure I can disable them. They're simple coded panels."  

"Since when did you become a hacker?" Takeishi challenges, though there's a touch of admiration in his voice.  

"Not that kind of code, like a number combination. It's less hackin' and more... Cuttin' wires."  Ryuji grabs hold of one of the fence supports. He flicks the torch on and cuts through the small pieces of metal holding the fence up. The panel collapses the rest of the way down into the grass and the three boys clamber over it. Ryuji breathes a sigh of relief. They're finally in, all that's left is to find the ship. "Stay close to me and keep your voices down."

The three of them make slow but steady progress through the shipyard, avoiding motion sensors and cameras. Ryuji knows the layout of the complex like the back of his hand and he continues to lead his friends onward. They've almost reached the long line of hangars when Ryuji hears the unsteady approach of a security robot. He motions for the other two to get down and follow him up under one of the Old-Earth vehicles. They're packed together like sardines and every time Ryuji shifts he's poked by bramble weeds that grew up under the truck's front end.  

Nakaoka's nervous breathing stirs the hair on the back of Ryuji's neck. It's the only sound outside of the approaching patrol robot. The tread on its tires is almost non-existent and it bounces violently over every crack and dip in the concrete. It stops beside their hiding place and begins to run it's scanner down over the side of the vehicle. Blue light beams down into their eyes and Nakaoka stops breathing entirely. The robot lets out a soft crackle of static before turning to wheel away.  

"This is a bad idea. We should leave." Nakaoka insists as the three of them crawl free of the undercarriage of the truck.  

Ryuji resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead offering words of encouragement, "We're almost there. It'll be another half hour before the robots make it back over here."  

"We can't go back," Takeishi adds, though his words are anything but soothing. "You can't wuss out on us now. Not when we're this close. Grow a pair already!"  

"Come on," Ryuji is tempted to ditch them both, tired of their theatrics, but Takeishi is right for once. They've come too far and there's no going back. They begin scoping out the hangars, peering in small side windows to check the inside for the ship. They're almost to the last one when Ryuji finally spots it, an unmistakable outline. Grinning ear to ear, he waves to his friends and they join him at the window. "In here!"

"No way," Takeishi laughs, slapping Ryuji jovially on the back. "I didn't think we were gonna find it."  

"Kinda pissed that you two doubted me."  

"Let's get in there to get a closer look."  

"I'm on it." Ryuji slips around the side of the hangar to the entry door while Takeishi and Nakaoka keep watch. It doesn't take him long to pry the panel off so that he can access the wires. He snips through the alarm wires and then gets to work on the ones that control the lock. He shifts them from connection to connection until he hears the lock click open inside the door. "Guys, come on."  

"Sakamoto, you're such a badass." Takeishi raves as they enter and the compliment fills Ryuji's chest with pride. He's the first one who approaches the cruiser. He runs his fingers admiringly over its sleek navy blue paint. The chrome accents along the front and sides are gleaming, perfect mirrors that reflect Ryuji's wonder-filled eyes. The other boys join him and the three of them circle the cruiser like sharks, drooling over every last detail. "Alright, now that we've looked at it, let's start it up."  

"Whoa, what?" Ryuji glanced at Takeishi, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean start it up?"  

"Well you're good at hot-wiring things, right? So get in there and start it up."  

"For real? I can hotwire the crappy hover cars parked in town, but this is a really high-class ship. It's got to have a whole computer devoted to an alarm and protection system," He says it as if he doesn't already know. He does know. He knows everything about it.  

"C'mon, Sakamoto. I know you lay in bed at night fapping to ship schematics."  

"The hell?!"  

"Jerkin' it to all those Captain Kidd posters you've got.”

"Takeishi, I swear-..."  

"Moaning his name when you cum."  

"I'll do it if you shut up," Ryuji growls. He swings his backpack down to the ground and kneels over it. He knows there's nothing in his bag that could possibly work on such an advanced ship. He's got to at least try for the sake of his dignity. It isn't enough for Takeishi that Ryuji brought them to the shipyard and broke into the hangar, no, he's always got to push things too far.  

"Ryuji, don't." Nakaoka implores him. "Guys, this is stupid. We should go. There's no way Ryuji could hotwire a craft like this."  

"Let him work." Takeishi snaps, beginning an argument between the two. Ryuji ignores them as he approaches the stunt ship, heart pounding with nervous anticipation. He never dreamed he would ever see it up close and in person and it's better than any photo he's ever seen. He lightly runs his hand over the lock panel, surprised when it opens up to reveal-... An Old-Earth style key lock? This isn't what Ryuji's expecting.  

Most high-class ships and cars are programmed with fancy identification software. Usually, that means voice recognition or palm and iris scanners. To see something so archaic on Captain Kidd's stunt ship is both amusing and fortuitous. Ryuji can pick old style car locks without even having to think about it. He pulls his tools from his bag and gets to it. He presses his head against the hull, listening for the pins inside the lock.  

"He's got this," Takeishi whispers, earning a sharp look from Ryuji.  

"Don't talk," He commands, straining his ears to move the final pin out of the way. The lock clicks and then turns and with a soft whoosh of air, the door to the ship begins to fold down. Ryuji's eyes bulge inside his head as he realizes what he's done. The lights inside the cruiser flick on, bright white LEDs that make the interior shine like the gates of heaven. Without even thinking about it, Ryuji steps forward to climb the stairs and enter the craft.

Takeishi and Nakaoka bumble up after him, but he hardly notices that they're there. His wonder and excitement have dimmed upon seeing the craft's interior. Although the outside of the ship for all the world resembles the trick craft, the inside is that of a basic hover car. It's even got cup holders and a console. It dawns on Ryuji that Captain Kidd's trick ship likely isn't street legal. The vehicle they're sitting in now is either his civilian car or a really really good fake that someone made.  

"It's not the right one," Ryuji explains lamely, turning to glance over his shoulders at his friends. Nakaoka is wearing a similar mask of disenchantment, but Takeishi on the other hand-... Anger flares to life inside of Ryuji's chest, he realizes he's been baited. "You knew."

"C'mon Sakamoto. You didn't actually think that Captain Kidd would drive his stunt ship into town, didya?" Takeishi gloats, his grin wide with amusement. Sometimes Ryuji wonders why they're friends. Why does he even bothers spending time with someone who acts the way Takeishi does? It's likely all close proximity, they certainly wouldn't have met by any other means. "My dad says Captain Kidd's got a regular hover car made up all nice like his stunt ship. I knew he'd probably park it out here."  

"You're such a friggen asshole."  

"I never said it was the actual ship, you just assumed that."  

"You brought us out here for this?!" Even Nakaoka's upset, a rarity for him. Normally he's immune to all the usual bullshit that Ryuji and Takeishi drag him through. It makes Ryuji feel even worse knowing that his own anger is justified in Nakaoka. "Come on, Ryuji. Let's go."  

"Yeah. Right behind you," Ryuji says, following Nakaoka down out of the ship, or rather, the hover car. He gathers his tools and throws them back into his bag with a satisfying use of force. They clink together as they hit the bottom of the bag and settle. "C'mon Takeishi. Get out of there. We're leaving."

"You're not gonna try to crank this thing up?" Takeishi asks, oblivious to the sour mood of the other two.  

"No! I'm not! Now get outta there!"  

Takeishi pouts as he climbs down the stairs. Ryuji ignores him. He seals the car door back up and starts for the hangar exit, eager to be out and on his way back home. Once they're outside again, he can breathe better. The cool night air calms his nerves a bit. Overhead the stars glimmer and the twin moons shine like the eyes of a cat. It's beautiful in a way Ryuji can't always describe and looking up at it takes the last bit of the edge off. He's still disappointed but it's less biting than it was inside the hangar. That is until Takeishi opens his mouth again.

"You're both being a couple of little bitches about all this," He goads. Ryuji bristles with newfound anger. He tosses his bag onto the ground and brings his hands up to slam against Takeishi's chest. It knocks him against the side of the hangar. The metal rattles and echos across the shipyard.  

"Find your own way home," Ryuji seethes, hissing the words through clenched teeth. Takeishi opens his mouth like he's going to say something else, but Ryuji doesn't allow it. He slams his fist against the hangar, knuckles making contact with the hard metal. It sends a shockwave of pain up his arm but he doesn't care. Takeishi flinches away from both the action and the sound, his eyes wide with disbelief. Ryuji shoves away from the wall and snatches his bag up. This time when they turn to leave, they're not immediately followed.

"Should'a hit me like your daddy hits you!" Takeishi taunts, but the two of them ignore him. The vein in the side of Ryuji's forehead is pulsing and he feels lightheaded. When they're out of sight of Takeishi he stops for a moment to catch his breath.  

"Sorry. You shouldn't'a had to see that," Ryuji apologizes, glancing sidelong. Nakaoka offers him a worn smile.  

"He deserves it," Nakaoka concludes, shrugging his shoulders. "For real though, let's go. I don't want to get caught in here. My mom'll kill me."  

"Mine too."

The two of them set off together in comfortable silence, following the same path they took to get in to get back out. They're almost to the fence line when they hear approaching footsteps. It's followed by the sound of tires bouncing over the cracked concrete. Ryuji throws his head over his shoulder to see Takeishi barreling after them. There's a security robot hot on his tail. Only once has Ryuji ever found himself in a similar situation. He knows from experience that the security bots can outrun a human. There's no way Takeishi is going to make it to the fence in time.  

He knows he's going to regret this, but-...  

"Take this and get outta here," Ryuji snaps, tossing his bag into Nakaoka's arms. He gives the other boy's shoulder a firm push. Nakaoka does what he does best and takes off. Ryuji spins around in the opposite direction to go back for Takeishi. He's doing a fair job of throwing the bot off, ducking between hover cars to cut off its straight forward path. Despite that, the machine is still closing the distance between them. Ryuji sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles, catching both the bot and Takeishi's attention.  

"Go long!" Ryuji calls out, gesturing towards the far end of the shipyard.

"There's another downed fence that way!" Takeishi throws up a fist in acknowledgment and breaks out running. He's a few aisles down from Ryuji, zigzagging a path through the parked cars. It's a good method to prevent the bot from gaining distance on a straightaway. So far it's working, the bot only has ground capabilities and it can't keep up with Takeishi's random changes in direction. Ryuji for his part races ahead, keeping his eyes out for more security bots. They've almost reached the fence line again and the opening that waits there for them.  

Takeishi's been doing track since middle school and it shows in the way he runs, his stride long and practiced. He catches up to Ryuji and the two of them push on towards the fence. For a moment they catch each other's eye and share twin smiles of amusement. This is easily the craziest thing they've done to date. This Takeishi is the one Ryuji is friends with. He's briefly reminded of that as they come upon the end of their shared row. They dash around the side of the last hover car and almost crash into the fence.  

"No effin' way!" Ryuji curses, staring incredulously at the brand new panel of fencing. "This thing's been down for months! When did they replace it?!"

"Worry about that later! Where else can we get out at?!" cries Takeishi as he checks over his shoulder for the bot. "Shit, Ryuji we gotta go, man! There's two of them back there!"  

When Ryuji looks, sure enough, two security robots are coming down the aisles towards them. In the distance, Ryuji can make out a third. He turned to Takeishi, his stomach clenching nervously at what he's about to do.  

"Takeishi, climb! I'll help you over. Then I can go back down to where we came in," Without thinking he kneels down and offers himself as a foothold to his friend. Takeishi stares at him for a heartbeat, eyebrows furrowed with indecision. They both know its unlikely that Ryuji will be able to make it out. "Please man, just go."  

"I'm sorry," Takeishi apologizes as he steps onto Ryuji's back. He hoists himself up and over the fence, turning around in time to offer a mournful look. Ryuji doesn't have time to do more than wave him off, the bots are closing in around him. As a last-ditch effort, Ryuji takes off back towards the hangars, hoping he might be able to get inside of one to hide. He's almost there when his foot catches in a crack in the pavement. His body shoots forward and lands against the hard ground, skinning his palms and forearms in the process. For a moment he lays winded, trying to will himself to get back up.  

The security bots surround him, having picked up a fourth on the way. They began to run their scanners over him, bright blue beams of light that shock the back of his eyelids. He raises up a hand to cover his eyes against their glow. There's a soft crackle of static that passes between them like they're having a private conversation in robot. One of the bots scans him a second time for good measure and then it begins to speak.  

Ryuji Sakamoto, age 16. No prior offenses. Citizen, please remain where you are. An officer has been dispatched to this location and will arrive shortly. Please do not leave the scene, as this could be taken as a sign of an attempt to resist arrest. There are no charges currently being brought against you. However, I will begin the Mirandizing process should this incident be taken to court in the future. In accordance with local laws, you have the right to remain silent-...

Ryuji pushes himself up onto his knees, listening to the security robot's electronic voice. His pulse pounds at the side of his forehead and he thinks for a moment about how fucked he currently is. He's going to be arrested. The moment that gets back to his father- Ryuji isn't sure what will happen then, but it knows that it won't be good. He debates on trying to run again, but the bots have already logged his identification code. There's a slim chance that they haven't yet transmitted it, but it's a long shot even then.  

In the distance, he can hear sirens.  

#pegoryu #pegoryu fic #akiryu #akiryu fic #persona 5 #persona 5 fic #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #persona 5 protagonist #space au

[flowerfan2]

Bound To Be Together - Ch. 8

McDanno, M, A03

A continuous story of Season 9 codas exploring the bond between Steve and Danny as they grow even closer.

Chapter 8: 9.08

Steve parks his truck and twists around for his bag of gear.  He’s a little early for the team’s annual Thanksgiving football game, but it’s a beautiful morning and he wants to enjoy it.  The game’s an important tradition, and he knows Danny will grill him on every detail when he gets back from New Jersey.

Just then his phone pings with a text.  Speak of the devil.

Thanks for the playlist.

Steve had swiped Danny’s phone a few days ago, adding a playlist with an assortment of songs from local Oahu bands.  He figured Danny would enjoy it, something to distract him on the long flight.  Maybe he’ll even want to go see one of the groups perform live, and Steve will casually offer to take him.  

Like a date, maybe, kinda.

Steve shakes his head at himself and writes back.

No problem. How was the flight?

Boring.  You getting ready for the game?

Already here.

Overachiever.

Steve snorts. At least I didn’t abandon my team.  He regrets it as soon as he hits send, the stark words on the screen looking harsher than he intended.

 Boo hoo. You’re just worried that the kids are going to trounce you.

 Danny is apparently in too good a mood to get upset about Steve’s slip.  The last thing Steve wants is to make Danny feel bad about going away to spend time with his family.  Family has to come first, and Steve knows how much it means to Danny to be with his parents and siblings today.

 Steve recovers and lobs a shot over the bow.  You must be into the holiday booze already if you think Tani and those lugs are going to win.

 Ha.  You’re right.  Bridget gave us some kind of cranberry champagne thing this morning, think there was vodka in it too.  She’s making pumpkin pie martinis with dinner.

 You didn’t eat yet?

 Not turkey. But  Charlie and I made cookies this morning.

Any left?

A few.

Don’t eat too much, you’ll spoil your appetite.

Ma says I’m too skinny anyway.

Steve thinks of Danny stretching as he got out of the truck at the airport, looking delicious in his slim fitting jeans and black t-shirt.  

 You’re perfect, Steve types back quickly.  There’s a pause, and Steve wishes he had just turned this into a phone conversation.  He wants to hear Danny’s voice.

Thanks. Danny doesn’t elaborate or hedge, and for some reason it makes Steve’s heart leap.

He jumps as there’s a knock on his window, Tani frowning at him and Junior standing behind her trying to stifle a grin.

Gotta go play some ball.  Talk later?

You bet.

 ******

 Steve doesn’t linger long after Thanksgiving dinner.  The restaurant isn’t his responsibility now, and he’s thankful for that -- he doesn’t need to stay to make sure everything’s clean and locked up.  If there’s a break-in, it won’t be Steve’s fault this time.

 Steve knows his newfound freedom from being a restaurant owner isn’t the only reason he’s anxious to leave.  He pushes that thought aside as he says good night to Lou and his family, who have somehow managed to act out the script of a bad sitcom episode over the course of the day.  At least no one got hurt, he thinks.  That’s another thing to be grateful for.

 When Steve gets home he changes out of his clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and paces around for a few minutes before giving in and calling Danny.

 “Steve?  Hey,” Danny says, his voice scratchy.  “Give me a sec, hold on.”

 “I know it’s late, I shouldn’t have called, but…”

 “Nah, it’s not so late.”

 It’s almost 3 a.m.  on the east coast.  Steve would like to think that the fact that Danny isn’t complaining about that means that he doesn’t mind, but it’s also possible Danny is too asleep to realize what time it is.

 “Did I wake you?”

 “Yeah, I guess.  But it’s okay.  I like the sound of your voice.”

 Danny’s words stop Steve in his tracks as warmth spreads through his chest.  It’s such a similar sentiment to what Steve himself has been thinking all day, missing Danny’s shouts of glee on the football field, his mumblings when they mull over a case.  The sound of his voice at a table crowded with friends, carrying to Steve’s ears regardless of who he’s talking to.

 “Well, uh, here I am.”

 Danny laughs, low and rumbling.  “How was your Thanksgiving?”

 Lonely, Steve wants to say, but that’s not really true.  He had good people around, his team, their families.  He wasn’t really lonely.  But there was an empty space where Danny should have been, where he should always be.

 Might as well say it. “Missed you.  Especially since we were at the restaurant.  It looked good, though, you’d have been pleased.  Kamekona had it all decorated.”

 “Did he make that stuffing we talked about?  With the sausage?”

 “He did, and you were right, it was amazing.”

 “Of course it was amazing, it’s my mom’s recipe.  We had it too, although my sister made it yesterday and reheated it today, and it got a little dry.”

 “Did she use a low heat? That’s supposed to help.”

 Danny starts to answer, and then laughs again.  “You know what?  It doesn’t matter.  It’s not our problem anymore.  We are no longer responsible for conjuring up ways to serve food to the masses.”

 “It’s true.  I signed the papers tonight.”

 There’s a long beat. “It’s good timing, really,” Danny says. “I don’t want to spend another minute thinking about food.  I don’t want to debate whether the cranberry sauce in the can is evil, or whether marshmallows are more acceptable in sweet potatoes if they’re organic.  I’m done.  In fact, next year I’m making stuffing from a box.”

 “You’ll do no such thing,” Steve says, grinning.

 “I will. Watch me. And we’ll get gravy in a jar, and buy a pumpkin pie from the bakery section of Foodland.”

 Steve doesn’t miss the “we” dropped casually into Danny’s assertion.  “What’ll we do for the turkey?”

 “Pre-order from Kamekona.”

 “It’s a deal, Danny,” Steve says, his voice falling low.  “Next year we’re having a casual Thanksgiving.  On the lanai, with paper plates and bottles of beer.”  Steve holds his breath, expecting Danny to backtrack once he realizes that he and Steve can’t have Thanksgiving together, not if Danny’s in New Jersey for the holiday like usual.

 But Danny doesn’t backtrack. Quite the opposite.

 “If you’re in, I’m in,” Danny says.  There’s something in his voice that makes Steve suspect Danny is talking about more than just where to spend the holidays.  

 “I’m in, Danno,” Steve says, proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.  “One hundred percent.”  

 “Good, then,” Danny replies. “Good.”  Steve hears blankets rustling, figures Danny’s turning over in bed. But he’s not at all prepared for what he hears next.

 “Steve?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Do you, uh, want to mess around?”

 Steve blinks hard, feeling almost lightheaded, and leans against the arm of the couch.  His mind is spinning, but there’s really only one answer to that question.

 “Yeah?”

 Danny hums, amused, but it just goes straight to Steve’s dick.  He’s half hard already, and they haven’t even gotten started.

 “You in bed?”

 Steve turns to the stairs and goes up them two at a time.  “Almost.”  He flops down on his back, hand reaching for his waistband.  “You sure this is okay?  You’re not bunking with Grace and Charlie?”

 Danny stifles a groan. “Do you think I would do this with my kids in the room?  How are you thinking about them right now?  What are you, some kind of monster?”

 “Sorry, sorry.”  Steve takes a deep breath, hand shaking as he puts the phone down and sets it on speaker.  “I’m in bed.  I’ve got my sweats on-”

 “The dark gray ones with the pocket on the ass?”

  “You been looking at my ass, Danny?  Yes, those.”

 “’Course I’ve been looking at your ass, prima donna, what do you think,” Danny mumbles.  “Take the pants off, boxers too.”

 “All right, all right. What are you-”

 “Nothing.”

 Steve’s breath whooshes out of him, although his next thought is “Aren’t you cold?”

 “Steve, focus.  No, I am not cold.  I’m under a very thick, heavy comforter, keeping toasty warm while I waited for your call.”

 The thought of Danny lying naked in bed, waiting for Steve, while Steve went through the motions of finishing dinner and driving home is ridiculously arousing.  “Holy shit, Danny.”

 “You touching yourself yet?” Danny boldly asks.

 Steve isn’t -- in fact his hands are fluttering around his body like confused butterflies.  “Should I?”

 There’s that amused hum again, and Steve is struck by a longing to touch Danny so strong it would knock him over if he wasn’t already lying down.

 “Take pity on a guy, Danno, we haven’t exactly done this before,” Steve says.

 “Okay, okay, you’re right, I’m sorry.  This is what we’re gonna do – you ready?”

 “Yeah.”

 “You in bed, clothes off?”

 “Yes.”

 “You thinking about me?” Danny’s voice drops half an octave, and Steve shivers.

 “Yes.”

 “You imagining me next to you, kissing you?  Kissing your neck, your collarbone?”

 “Yeah, that’s good, Danny.”

 “Using a little teeth - you like that, right?”

 “Fuck, you know I do.”

 “Okay, Steve, touch your chest now.  Just lightly. I’m doing it too.  Run your fingers over your skin.”

 “Okay.”  Steve rubs at his nipples, pulls on them a little. Danny did that to him, over his shirt, the last time they were together, and it works almost as well this time.

 “How you doing?”

 “Good, Danny, real good.” Steve imagines it’s Danny’s hands on his chest, imagines sliding his hand down to Danny’s hip, stroking his hands over the curve of his ass.  Giving it a squeeze and making Danny squirm against him.

 “All right, let one hand drift down now.  Touch your cock.”

 Steve hears Danny suck in a breath and he knows Danny’s doing it too.  “Wish it was my hand on you.”  He imagines how it would feel to take Danny’s cock in his hand, hard and hot.

 “Wish I was there too,” Danny replies, and he’s definitely breathing faster now.  “Wish I could see you, fuck.”

 “Danny, I… I’m not gonna last long…”

 “Just a little more,” Danny rasps.  “Steve…”

 Steve’s on the edge, picturing Danny there too, muscles tight and aching for release.  “Wanna put my mouth on you, Danny, feel you come down my throat-”

 That’s apparently enough to do it for Danny, as Steve hears a grunt and stifled moan, just before his own orgasm takes him over, his hips bucking as he thrusts into his hand. When Steve recovers enough for lucid thought, he’s a little surprised at the words that Danny coaxed out of him.  

 “Danny… wow…”

 “Fuck, Steve, that was…”

 “Yeah.”  Steve shifts and reaches for a tissue, wipes his belly. “Hope your house doesn’t have thin walls.”

 “I think Bridget’s drinks knocked everyone out.  And Grace and Charlie are actually at my sister’s with their cousins, so we’re good.”

 “You couldn’t have told me that earlier?”

 “I was otherwise occupied, Steven.”

 Steve grins.  “Okay, I’ll accept that.”

 “Steve?”

 “Yeah?”

 “You’ll pick me and the kids up at the airport when we get home, right?”

 “’Course I will, Danny.”

 “Okay.  Good.”  There’s a pause, and that blanket shuffling sound, and when Danny speaks again his voice is muffled by his pillow.

 “Happy Thanksgiving, Steve.”

 Steve wishes Danny the same, and hangs up the phone.  Danny Williams is a sap, and a pain in ass.  And also a hell of a lot of fun to have phone sex with.   Steve lets himself drift off to sleep, the echo of Danny’s voice in his ears, back where it should be.  It’s a happy Thanksgiving indeed.

#mcdanno #H50 #9x08 #episode coda #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #my fic

[koganphrancis]

Fiona Faded Away

A visual representation of how reluctant I was to even watch the episode. (gif source: i-usedtobe-normal)

A visual representation of my face as I watched the episode.

It was SO boring.  And emotionless.  Believe me when I tell you that Joe Mazzello posted an 80 second video of himself breaking up with a piece of cardboard and it was more compelling than Fiona’s send off.  Don’t take my word for it-watch: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cvfyh_hD2F4

The video has everything the show was missing-longing looks, inside jokes, references to things past, REASONS to break up...

The show gave me hardly anything to snark about, but here’s a recap anyway, under the cut.

I don’t know how they managed, but the show has actually gotten worse since I stopped watching after episode 6 (you remember that one?  Cam’s bullshit swan song?).  There is nothing compelling happening, since anything that DOES happen is wiped out in the next scene containing the same characters-or even within the same scene.

I truly was bored to tears, so I ain’t gonna recap much.

I think John Wells is too in love with his idea that actors leaving a show is just a thing that happens and you don’t have to spotlight it and make it a big deal-in real life, people move in and out of other’s lives all the time, right?  But Fiona is supposed to be considered FAMILY even to the viewing audience and how cold and unfeeling to you have to be to put that on par with someone you take classes with or work in an office with for a period of time moving on? 

He said in post-airing interviews that having Fiona saying goodbye to characters would get too repetitive or whatever-but she didn’t really say a proper goodbye to anyone and the episode was bland and felt false.

Frank was more annoying than ever-laid up on the couch and expecting the family to wait on him hand and foot and keep him doped up and on a constant beer drip.  He had some interaction with Franny that I guess we were supposed to find humorous, but the thought of Debbie leaving her toddler napping in a house with only an incapacitated man was actually horrifying.  Even if the kid couldn’t get out of her crib and down the stairs (which she could) it was child endangerment.  What if there had been a fire?  The other ��humorous” Shameless thing involving him was his bedpan needed to be emptied and they had the props department whip up something that looked like human shit and Carl dumps it in the downstairs toilet and then washes the bedpan out in the KITCHEN sink wearing the yellow gloves one assumes are there for washing dishes, plus using the kitchen sink sponge.  Another insight as to how the writers, especially Wells, think poor people live.  All the other Gallagher kids but Liam are right there, and not one of them yells at Carl not to use that sink and those supplies.

Frank was the only character whose farewell to Fiona might have been considered to have any emotional punch, but since they weren’t facing each other when they spoke, I thought a lot of it was just meh.  He comes as close as he can to thanking her, but fucks it up by saying she “helped” raise the family.  It was in character for him not to be able to face how much responsibility his shitty parenting forced onto her, and her upset reaction was justified, but it came so late into the episode that I was numb and was like, “Just walk out the door already!”

Lip is dealing with yet another heatless romance.  He and Tami have a fight after she gets some hard to hear medical news.  So, granted she had every right to be upset and overwhelmed, but the actress didn’t pull it off, and going from tears to “let’s fuck in a dirty bathroom” to “forget it” to getting into her car to Lip chasing after said car to Tami letting him in to driving under some LA overpass (I really don’t think they were in Chicago for that part of the scene) to fucking in said tiny car with the camera a dozen feet or so away to getting out of the car to pull up her underwear to him getting out to zip up his pants to fighting about whether she should put the kid up for adoption to saying they don’t love each other to Lip saying but maybe he could grow to love her to her driving off in a huff to leave him to walk back to work-yes, kids, that all happened in ONE scene.  Am I supposed to give a shit about these people?  Am I supposed to buy into each of the half dozen or more emotions they’re trying to cram into that one scene?  There’s no build up, there’s certainly no time to process what’s going on and to decide if I think one or both or neither of them have a point, and there’s no consequences to any of the elements of what we were forced to watch!  Lip gets back to the bike shop, his boss diffidently asks him to do his job, and Tami’s waiting for him, ready to talk to him again and go get something to eat.  By the end of the episode she’s at the Gallaghers with a beer in her pregnant hand, dancing.  WTF?

Lip’s final scene with Fiona-just by seeing her one dinky suitcase being packed he’s all, “You going?  Okay, good.  Let’s throw you a party!”

Debbie and Carl-lumping them together since the show seems determined to.  They have an awful bonding over having their hearts broken by Kelly thing going on-it’s too bad they never established one of them were adopted so they could just have Debbie and Carl hook up romantically, it’s sort of how the show feels they’re pairing them up-ew.  Just because Kelly woke up to Debbie kissing her and freaked out and ran off and had already (I guess?) dumped Carl because he’s too clingy, they decide to destroy her truck.  Carl has some sort of awesome spray paint that doesn’t drip and does a professional-level graffiti job on the side of the truck, Debs punctures all the tires, and I thought they didn’t have time to pour sugar into the gas tank when the car alarm went off, but Kelly mentions it later, so I guess maybe they poured it before they ran.  (And then she had it all fixed the same day so she could drive around again, but sure, it’s Shameless.)  

Carl and Debbie have a scene together that’s pretty much Ian and Lip’s fight from Season 6 about Ian being a janitor (kept waiting for Carl to say the fast food industry is “where I land”) and their acting was...not good.  Both of them just seem to get loud to try to convey any kind of emotion that’s required of them.  They both usually act very sleepy and stoic when not having to act worked up.  Carl insists he’s quitting school.  Kelly comes looking for both of them, and finds Debbie.  (Side note: Kelly, Debbie, and Fiona all wore clothes in this episode that looked painfully tight-does the infamous wardrobe lady Lyn Paolo do one fitting at the start of shooting and by the end of the season, if any of the actors have even gained 4 or 5 pounds it’s tough shit and you get what you get?  For years Cam has been hulking out of his wardrobe, now it’s others too?  Sheesh.  Sorry for the side trip.)  Debbie gives Kelly this horrible toxic speech, blaming Kelly for “making” her and Carl fall in love with her.  Um, excuse you?  It’s her fault you’re obsessed and stalking her?  Anyway, Kelly bitches about what Debbie wrote on her truck, and Debbie says, “That wasn’t me, I can spell” because what it says is Heartbeaker Cunt-Kelly says all moony, “Carl?” and Debbie says Carl’s dropping out of school (she might blame Kelly for that too, but, again, by this point I was so bored I wasn’t paying very close attention).  Kelly jumps in her truck, drives to Carl’s fast food place, zip ties him up, marches him out of the restaurant, yells he’s quitting, and tells him he’s going back to school and that she loves him because he’s so dense.  She also makes a dumb speech about him not going to West Point but he’ll be a better officer than those guys cuz he’s South Side and can reload while he’s rolling under an Impala during a drive by or something.  Um, that might make it better for him as a soldier saving his own ass, but nothing about that says he’s officer material.  But again, I don’t care because it’s another Ian recycled storyline that I never bought into to begin with.  So, in the space of just a couple of scenes, Carl and Debbie have vandalized her property, called her a cunt, yelled at her for being a siren who forced them both to fall in love with her, Carl’s reunited with her, and we’re supposed to buy that they’re wonderfully in love even though Carl is still just a dumb teen.  Even if you’re a Carl fan, there was no time to care about any of the plot points, and by the end of the episode Kelly’s also dancing in the Gallagher living room.  

Debbie and Carl don’t have any kind of goodbye with Fiona-just Lip giving them their assignments of what to get for the send off party.

Liam-Oh god, you poor little kid.  Liam spends the episode trying to point out to people in the family that they don’t care about him, so he doesn’t care about them.  He wants his own room, his own cultural identity...and I guess that’s about it?  But, in having his story mainly be that no one cares and he doesn’t care, fans at home don’t care either.  Fiona didn’t care enough to stick around if he was truly missing.  Not to mention that, as his legal guardian, her leaving the way she is is child abandonment.  Carl too-he’s not 18 yet.

Fiona spends most of the episode walking around in her too tight blazer and pants.  She drops in at The Alibi and Vee talking about Kev being Jesus reminds Fi she has a brother once known as Gay Jesus, so she goes to visit him.  No goodbye to Vee or Kev.  The Fiona/Ian scene is (no surprise here) badly written.  She’s obviously been there before-she doesn’t ask Ian any questions about how he’s being treated or what his life there is like-but hasn’t she been on a bender since she didn’t drop him off in Episode 6?  And if she went to see him after hitting AA and Al Anon, wouldn’t she have told Ian the family news?  Especially about Lip’s girlfriend?  Continuity?  Shameless never bothers with it.  She asks about his hair, he says a guy in the infirmary had lice and it was easier just to buzz it.  She goes on to say, “So you’re STILL working in the infirmary”-so, again, she knows shit about his life on the inside.  He says it beats working in the laundry like Mickey, so, okay, we get a Mickey mention, but it’s pretty fucking neutral.  (Not that I was expecting more.)  But once again, I can’t help but feel it’s a bit of a dig-how does working in the infirmary and being exposed to puke, pink eye, and parasites “beat” working in a place where Mickey goes back to the cell smelling like clean linens every night?  And then fucking Fiona has to go and say, “Mickey washing undies, you gotta send me a picture.”  Bitch, YOU worked in a prison laundry!  You know he’s not handwashing inmates’ delicates!  You forget about those big canvas sacks you had to sling from machine to machine?  It just rubbed me the wrong way, the two of them sitting there acting as if they’re (still) better than him.  Gallaghers looking down on a Milkovich?   I don’t fucking think so!  

Also, it really bothered me that Ian’s “putting his medical training to use”.  I can just see Wells making him a Certified Nursing Assistant or something when he magically gets out of prison next season-like he’d ever get medical field work with his background now of blowing shit up near minors, his prison record, and his army file.  

Anyway, Ian asks if everything’s okay at home and she runs down the list-he blinks at Lip having a girlfriend, but literally doesn’t bat an eye when Fiona says Liam may be missing. Then she tells him she’s thinking it’s time for her to go, and that it’s the first time she’s said it out loud.  He’s immediately on board, giving her the support she failed to give him when he wanted to leave with Mickey.   

Then after the credits, there’s one more truly dumb ass scene of him playing basketball with his fellow inmates (although I did laugh that he did the courtesy of wearing a beanie so as not to spread his head lice, but when he hugged Fiona their heads were snuggled together sans hat) and a plane flies overhead and he looks up at it and smiles.  Why would he assume she was leaving that day-and on a plane?  Fiona specifically states how she’s never been on one before in her final scene.  John Wells trying to make some sort of poignant moment that just looked hokey and fake.  

One last thing about the money Fiona gets-now that it’s not being rolled into another investment, won’t she get smacked with capital gains tax?  I’d love it if they have to have her crawling back to Debbie the following April to tell her she can’t keep all of the $50K she left her.  

Also, Debbie’s face when she sees the check?  To me it looked like she was thinking, “Now it’s MY turn to really fuck up!”  And when she inevitably does, it’ll just be boring too. 

Anyway, I got to thinking later how if Cam hadn’t fucked everything up by coming back to the show, the scene with Fiona would’ve been a good way for him to end his time on Shameless.  We see him looking happy-he’s getting three square meals a day, there are people to make sure he’s taking his meds, he’s probably even getting to talk to a therapist in there-plus he’s getting good loving every night from Mickey.  He’s probably in the best situation of his life-even when he was a kid at home at the beginning of the series he was with Kash in a very unhealthy situation.  He and Mickey don’t have Terry to deal with, he’s on a schedule, things seem good.  AND THEN I GOT PISSED AS HELL THAT THE SHOW HAS REDUCED ME TO THINKING IN TERMS OF CRAPPY SCRAPS LIKE THAT BEING “BEST CASE SCENARIOS”.  THE LAST PLACE A PERSON DEALING WITH MENTAL ILLNESS SHOULD BE IS IN PRISON!  

Ugh, what a shit show.  If Noel’s not coming back, what is the point in trying to continue?  Here’s my pessimistic outlook-Noel won’t be back.  Why should he come back?  The show has gotten progressively worse since S6.  All the pressure would be on him to salvage a show that’s done everything it can to save money on writers and talent.  There’s no indication that anything is going to change-Wells isn’t going to suddenly hire experienced talented writers to try to put this thing back on track.  There’s no incentive to.  Showtime has renewed them (and I get the feeling maybe it’s for the last time and they all already know it-hence Cam coming back so quick-he’s probably been told it’s his last chance to make bank) and even if my theory about it being the last season is wrong, ratings have obviously played no role in renewing the show the past few seasons.  There’s no reason to “improve” the show.  They’ve let is slip further and further into a cesspool in each season since 5.  Would I love to see Noel as Mickey again, swearing and being sweet and the best character in the entire history of TV?  Yes.  Do I think it’s still possible given what a piece of crap this show has become?  Not really :(  

#Recap #It was worse than I thought #and so damn boring #PULL THE PLUG #Season 9 Episode 14