#the arrival of june means going back to school :(

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter one -

Late arrivals and big asks

A broken down car, a party at Reefer Rick’s, and a bandaid that needs to be ripped off.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking, lots of tension, some king!steve angst in the form of a flashback.

wc: 10.1k

series masterlist | series playlist

June - 

The air is sticky, thick with the kind of humidity only Indiana could have at 9:30 pm. An annoyed breath expands into your lungs as you lean against your car that refuses to do anything but sputter. Despite your irritation, your glossed lips twitch with the nostalgia that creeps into your heart because after all these years it still smells the same.

Crossing your arms, your eyes trail over the clear night sky not polluted with the kind of man-made smog that blankets the city and the stars shimmer like diamonds in its absence. The warmth of the overrun engine is still hot on your exposed calves, the light breeze making the bottom of your sundress dance across the tops of your thighs. White beams emerge, cutting through the dark at the top of the hill, followed by the roar only a tow truck can make, and this time, the smile you fought off before spreads wide across your face.

Robin.

Butterflies wake up in a frenzy deep in your gut, with nerves that twitch from your fingertips at the thought of finally getting to hug your best friend after months apart. You push off the side of your car as the truck approaches, eyes squinting to make out the second outline in the front cabin as it pulls over. You recognize the messy mane of hair that could only belong to Eddie Munson in the driver seat almost instantly and his dimple filled smile brings you back to memories you thought you’d long forgotten. 

“Well, well, well, would you look at what the cat dragged in!” Robin sticks her head out of the window with a wide grin as the big tires slow to a stop in front of your car, “are my eyes deceiving me or is my best friend in the entire world actually in Hawkins, Indiana right now?” 

The rasp in her voice sounds just like it does over the phone and despite the roll of your eyes, your cheeks hurt from how happy you are.

“Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t guilt me out here by saying the fate of your future depends on it.” Uncrossing your arms, you open them wide, “I made the ultimate sacrifice for you, so are you gonna hug me or not?”

Dramatic? Yes. But it works like a charm when she flings open the passenger door and charges at you in a mess of honey blond waves and freckles, almost tackling you with the force of her impact wrapping her arms around you.

Too distracted by Robin, you almost don’t notice the creak of the driver's side door or the filled out frame of the man that used to be a lanky teenage boy walking past as Eddie starts to attach your car to his truck. He’s taller than you remembered even bending down, and despite the navy blue coveralls, you can still see that his pale skin is littered with even more tattoos.

“I can’t believe my guilt trip worked!” Robin beams, finally letting you go, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement as she claps her ring clad hands together.

“I really can’t believe it either,” you laugh nervously, the reality of what it means to come back starting to set in after seeing just one familiar face, but this isn’t high school anymore and you’re definitely not the same person you were five years ago either.

“Thanks so much, Eddie,” you break the ice when he stands back up, and the sound of your voice has his big brown eyes warmed with gold light up just like his face when he turns his full attention onto you. Scruff filled dimples poking even bigger holes in his cheeks.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart, I almost didn’t believe Robin when she called me. I thought it was a prank.” He beckons you over with open arms, “now that I know it’s not, you have exactly 10 seconds to get over here and hug me before I change my mind.”

There’s zero hesitation about giving into his ‘demand’ and when your arms wrap around his waist, you’re brought back to afternoons in the woods behind the school with heavy lidded eyes and lopsided grins. 

“Your own auto shop, huh?” You smile up at him, pulling away, “Eddie Munson, the business owner.”

He rolls his eyes but the pink tint that colors in his cheeks tells you he appreciates the praise.

“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckles, “Got a soft spot for that old man in the trailer park, couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

Your heart warms at the fondness that drips from his ton. 

“Okay, as sweet as this little reunion is. You’re late, and we have a party to get to.” Robin interrupts snatching your keys out of your hand, dropping them in Eddie’s.

“A party?” You snap confused, and Eddie takes that as his queue to walk away with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, this is the summer of fun and reckless abandon, this is the last summer of our youth before we have to be adults. Do you understand me?” Her fingers are digging into your shoulders by the end of her rant, with the kind of look in her eyes that you’re absolutely going to have to revisit after a few weeks. 

“This is the part where I remind you that I graduated college last year.” 

Your best friend scoffs at you.

“Just humor me, okay? It’s your grand homecoming.” She pushes out her bottom lip, and makes her eyes big in a way she knows you can’t say no to.

“Fine.” You huff, making her finally let you go with the kind of pleased smirk that tells you she never thought she was going to lose to begin with.

“Great, it’s time to rip the bandaid off anyway.” Robin practically mumbles the last part turning on her heel to head back to the truck.

It takes a minute for her words to stick to your ears and their meaning to ring loud through your head, but when they do it feels like the air is stolen from your lungs. 

“Rip what bandaid off, Robin?!” 

It’s his name tightens in your chest but you refuse to say it, even after all this time it burns coming back up. 

“Since you had to drive for so long, I’ll sit in the middle because I’m just that good of a friend, you know?” She winks with a shit eating grin before pulling herself up and disappearing inside the cab of the truck, ignoring your question, like she’s not asking you to do the one thing you said you’d never do. 

See Steve Harrington again.

I tell myself, ‘draw the line.’

You wonder if Robin can feel the daggers you’re glaring into the back of her head as the two of you walk up the driveway to Rick’s house. Gravel crunching hard under your converse as you keep up with her black combat boots. She looks effortlessly cool in her high waisted jean shorts, and her oversized army green jacket covered in patches. You’d compliment her if you weren’t so mad.

“I can’t believe you guys still have parties here.” You scoff, making your sour attitude known, but your best friend ignores it with ease.

“I can’t believe you forgot to have fun. Don’t you live in the city?” Turning around with a smirk, she can’t help but laugh at the look on your face. 

She stops abruptly, almost making you run into her leaving you both just close enough to the party to hear the bass of the music spilling through the cracks in the windows. The low chatter of people echoes through the trees that surround you and bounce off the lake not that far away. The thought of hearing the calm baritone of his voice mixed in makes your chest tight with the kind of nerves that dare you to high tail it and run.

“It’s been five years.” Robin’s playful demeanor breaks and becomes pleading with a kind of desperation you’ve never seen from her before. “He’s not the person you knew in high school, I need you to understand that. You think I’d call someone like that my best friend?”

“Hey!-“ You object at the title, and it makes her lips twitch despite serious lines that crease her face.

“Stop, you know what I mean,” her painted fingers grab onto yours, squeezing them lightly, “please, just give him a chance. I’m not asking you to get back together or even be friends, just get along enough not to kill each other this summer. I can’t choose between you. I won’t.”

The genuine love she has for Steve is apparent in the way her ocean blue eyes threaten to drown you in their sincerity, and you can’t find it in yourself to say no to her. 

“Fine.” You accept your defeat in practically a whisper, but it makes your best friend squeal nonetheless. The giddiness from before coming back tenfold as she links arms with you, continuing your way up to the house. 

It’s just a summer, right?

The crowd gets bigger as more people start to come into view, between groups smoking cigarettes outside, couples arguing by cars, others making out against them. The smell of beer gets more pungent with each step, the atmosphere a stark contrast to the way the moon glows against the peaceful waters behind the madness of the house. 

Salt N Pepa’s ‘Push It’ plays loud enough for you to make out the words when you reach the front steps, walking through clouds of tobacco smoke to get to the unlocked door. The interior hasn’t changed at all since high school, the smell of stale lime and tequila stinging your nose. The bass of the music vibrates under your shoes as Robin unlinks her arms and you have to fight the urge to yank her back.

“Drinks or …Steve first?” She asks, her nerves about the situation finally showing themselves as she bites at her thumbnail. 

“Absolutely drinks! Is that a trick question?” You half whisper, half yell, looking around as if saying his name out loud might summon him.

“Okay! Okay!” Robin hisses, grabbing your wrist, leading you towards the familiar path to Rick’s kitchen.

Suddenly you wonder what your makeup looks like after a long day of traveling in your car, your fingers tugging at the bottom of your dress before adjusting the front of it so it sits just right. You itch to grab your lip gloss that’s tucked into the side of your bra, but you don’t want to deal with the look you’d get if you went for it.

Rounding the corner to the living room, your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach before you even have a chance to stop it when your eyes meet that messy head of chestnut hair, and a pair of hot pink nails tangled inside it. 

“Oh - I - god dammit.” Robin groans, when you're met with number two on your list, making out with a pretty blond on the couch.

Despite the years and distance, there’s still a sting that you feel in the corners of your eyes. It’s not enough for any tears to fall, there’s none left for him anymore, but it’s enough for the anger you’ve clung to since the day he broke your heart to boil hot under your skin. It singes the wings of the butterflies that try to take flight when you see the way his frame has filled out, how he’s somehow grown more handsome than the last time you saw him. 

Robin coughs, squeezing your wrist in reassurance.

“Hey, - uh, Steve.” The sound of his name catches his attention, long brown lashes fluttering open to reveal the deep coffee of his eyes that widen when they lock with yours for the first time in years. 

His lips pull from the blond’s with a loud smack, leaving a small trail of glitter on the side of his mouth that he tries to wipe away quickly with his wrist. Black ink you’ve never seen before looks bold on his tanned skin that glows like it’s been freshly kissed by the sun. 

His gaze wanders up and down your body like he’s unsure you’re actually real, and if it wasn’t for the obvious shock of your arrival and the way the color seems to drain from his face, you’d snap at him for the way it lingers over your curves. 

“Um, Robin, what the fuck?” The sound of his voice makes your heart skip a beat, and again when his hand drags through his hair just how you remembered.

“Surprise?” She shrugs, wincing when he scoffs loudly and the warmth that went missing floods his cheeks, turning them bright red. The blond next to him eyes you up while she clutches harder to his waist, and you can’t stop the rise of your brows and the giggle that bubbles past your lips because of it.

Steve’s head snaps towards you, something softening the moss that hides in his eyes when he hears the noise despite the sarcasm that drips from it, and you really get to look at him for the first time since high school graduation. 

God, you wish you could’ve had that drink. 

The jawline that always drove you mad is sharper, peppered with the kind of hardly there stubble that tells you he’s only missed one shaving day. A problem he never used to have, and somehow, it makes him all that much more attractive. 

His hair is a little messier than his carefully crafted look that used to take him a good forty five minutes every morning. It curls wildly at the ends now, tucking behind his ears and fanning along the nape of his freckled neck. It still looks as soft as you remember, though. 

His shoulders are broader, stretching the white cotton of his shirt tight enough across his chest that you can see the outline of a thick patch of hair that had only just started growing when you knew him last. The dark wash of his jeans makes them look almost black, fitting snug over his thighs, cuffed at the bottoms framing the tops of his boots.

Why couldn’t Steve Harrington just peak in high school like he was supposed to?

“So yeah, this is awkward.” Your best friend laughs nervously, “We’re going to get a drink or three because this scenario is by far the worst case and not the way this was supposed to go in my head, but anyway, look who’s here for the summer! We’ll talk later!“ 

Robin grabs your wrist before Steve can respond, pulling you back into the party and away from your ex-boyfriend while the realization of the summer you’ve foolishly agreed to hits you all at once. It turns your body weightless as the two of you weave in and out of the crowd. It tightens in your chest, the music turning muffled hitting your ear drums. Suddenly, you're not the woman who crossed state lines to the one place she said she’d never come back to, happily living the lie that you’d actually forgotten about him to be a good friend.

You’re the girl who let him keep you a secret, and you hate him for it.

Sneakers hit the sticky tile floor that hasn’t changed since 1984, the harsh lighting of the kitchen makes you both squint. It’s calmer than the rest of the house, just a few groups lingering off in the corners, too deep in conversation to care about you and Robin. Letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your ears start to pop too, Eddie Money’s Take Me Home Tonight coming through crystal clear.

“The band-aid might have been violently ripped off, but hey, it’s ripped off nonetheless.” Robin shrugs, finding the half-drunk bottle of tequila on the counter. “I think we should count this as a win and take a shot to celebrate.”

“A win?! Are you kidding me?!” You hiss, completely bewildered.

“Yes a win - oh no.” Her blue eyes go wide at whatever’s behind you, but it doesn’t take you long to figure out when that familiar spice and cedar of his cologne hits your nose.

“Right so, who’s going to let me know what’s going on?”

His voice comes out close enough to send your lashes fluttering, mimicking your heart. The nerves you’d just gotten over threaten to come back tenfold, but you manage to swallow them down just like in high school, turning around.

“I think it’s obvious what’s going on, Steve,”

It’s not as hard to say his name as you thought it would be, but it is hard to stare at his face from this close. Specifically, the two moles that dot his cheek that you always used to kiss, or the ones on his neck that you hate still taunt you for more. 

“I’m here for the summer.”

Steve Harrington had thought about this moment a lot, but Rick’s house was never the backdrop for it. His eyes take in the features you’ve not only grown into but somehow are even more beautiful than he remembers. Even if they’re twisted in a glare. 

“I meant, why didn’t I know until right now?” He manages to get out with a shake of his head narrowing his eyes at Robin, who’s too busy trying to find clean shot glasses to notice.

“Why would you need to know?” You snap, making a nervous hand card through his hair

“Cause I’ve, uh,  you know, I’ve asked about you a few times,” the last part comes out a little harsher, clearly directed at your best friend, who you know is actively ignoring you both now.

“Why? Why would you need to know anything about me?” Your hostility still shocks him even though he was expecting it. His eyebrows shoot up just like his hands in surrender. “Why didn’t you tell me, Robin?”

She groans loudly, slamming the tequila bottle down on the counter before turning around.

“You said you didn’t want to hear anything about him after you moved, why would I tell you he was asking about you?”

“Wait -“ Steve butts in this time, “seriously?”

“Oh my god, can you two shut the fuck up for a second and take these shots? You’re really putting a damper on the beginning of the best summer of our lives,” Robin snaps before waving a hand in front of three freshly poured shots.

It’s a struggle to tear your eyes from him, your body responding to his presence in a way that feels like it’s turning against you. It has you downing your shot in one quick motion before anyone else can even touch theirs. 

“Wow, okay.” Robin deadpans before shaking her head, wasting no time in following your lead.

“So we’re not cheersing anymore? Isn’t that bad luck?” Steve mutters, shoulder brushing against yours as he leans forward to grab his shot, the slightest touch enough to engulf your skin into flames.

A whole summer? Fuck.

“Robin, pour another one.” You rush with pinched brows as you try to move past the bitter sting of the alcohol going down your throat, taking a step toward her and away from him, you add “and we’ll cheers.”

You refuse to meet his gaze when you say it, but you can feel the intensity of it on the side of your face, begging you to break.

“Rob’s, how are you guys getting home?” Steve finally breaks, giving up his quiet fight for now, and you hate the way his nickname for her softens your heart.

“Huh, that’s a good question, I hadn’t thought that far yet.” She admits, over pouring so tequila splashes against the countertop, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously–

“RECKLESS ABANDON STEVEY!” Cutting him off, she downs her shot in his disapproving face.

“You didn’t cheers again.” Steve sighs, hands finding his hips as you whine an irritated, “We needed to cheers!” At the same time.

Your eyes meet his finally, his knowing smirk twisting the corners of your lips despite yourself. You blame the tequila starting to warm the blood in your veins.

“Well, you need to take yours then if we’re doing another one ‘the proper’ way, or it’s not going to be even.” Robin points at your drink in a silent challenge. 

You know how this game works.

“Fine.” You shrug, downing it with more ease than the last one.

“Oh my god. Stop! Do not pour another one before you answer my question, please!” Steve sounds exasperated, grabbing the bottle from her before she can disobey, “How are you getting home?” 

You try not to focus on how much larger his already big hands are now, or how small the bottle looks wrapped up in his palm compared to your best friends. The second shot takes the edge off your nerves in a way that your shoulders relax. Leaning against the counter, you cross your arms, watching the two of them bicker, catching Steve’s wandering gaze on your exposed legs while he tries his best to keep his focus on Robin. It boosts your ego in a way that has the anger hiding just under the surface go from a boil to a slow simmer.

“I don’t know Harrington, do you know anybody with a car?” She wiggles two thick brows at him, the second shot making her blue eyes glassy, and her smile a little more goofy.

“Why’d I know you were going to say that? And why did I know you were going to do this?” Steve sighs, letting her snatch the bottle out of his hand.

“What? Bring her to the party?” Robin snorts pointing a thumb in your direction, making you gasp.

“Robin!”

“No! What? No. But don’t think,” Steve clears his throat looking at you awkwardly before finishing a little quieter, “don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

“I can still hear you.” You remind him with a sarcastic smirk.

“Yeah, I know you can. Look, I’ll DD for you because obviously tonight is, uhh,” he gestures to you with cheeks that grow pinker by the second, “a big deal. But you gotta stop doing this to me, I need you to get your license you’re out of colleg-”

“Shots! Steve’s driving us home!” Robin whoops loudly, and an irritated Steve pinches the bridge of his nose before walking away. 

Your eyes follow him out the door, shoulder blades flexing under cotton when he runs another hand through his hair before disappearing from sight. You try to push down the small pang of jealousy that makes a familiar home inside your chest remembering the blond girl waiting for him on the couch.

“Okay, okay,” Robin interrupts your inner struggle at the perfect time, sliding an overflowing shot over to you with a giggle that's contagious and it banishes Steve from your mind just like magic. “I’m not going to forget this time, promise.”

“I don’t think I can afford for you to forget again,” you smirk, raising your glass, tequila spilling over the tops of your fingers, “cheers!”

“Cheers!” 

You both down them at the same speed, slamming the empty glasses back onto the countertop with laughter that bounces off the walls and threatens to drown out the music. And for a second you think maybe you can actually do this.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” She squeals, throwing her arms around your neck, doing a terrible job of holding her weight up. Grabbing onto her waist, you do your best to steady her, “Look I just want to say while he’s gone, I know this isn’t easy for you, okay? I know.”

She hiccups before pulling away slightly to look at you as she finishes,“But It means so much to me, and I just wanna say I’m proud of you. I mean, who knows, you’ve changed, he’s changed-”

“Nope, no, you’re done. Where’s the weed? I wanna smoke some weed.” You push Robin away, rolling your eyes at the loud laugh your reaction gets from her.

There’s a long summer ahead of you, but right now, all you need is to find a joint and try not to think about your ex in the next room.

With a few more shots and a couple of hits from a blunt you and Robin you’d stumbled upon being passed amongst a group outside, you start to really feel like you’re back home. Nostalgia hits you hard in the gut as you walk through the crowded living room hand in hand with your best friend, giggling and stumbling back to the kitchen on the hunt for some food. 

“God, I’m so hungry!” Robin practically growls when you hit the harsh lighting again making you both hiss.

An empty bottle of tequila sits on the counter now and red solo cups litter the floor that weren’t there before, and a growing pile of bitten into limes cover the counters in a sticky mess. Alone and left to your own devices Robin begins to raid the cupboards, huffing when she finds nothing behind every door she aggressively yanks open.

“Why is his kitchen always so empty? Like? Do we just always miss the party?” You hiccup, tripping on a tile that’s coming out of the grout. 

You catch yourself on the kitchen island in front of you, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest, too drunk to focus on how gross the formica feels under your fingertips.

“There’s literally nothing to eat in here, not even like an old bag of stale chips.” She opens the first cabinet one last time before slamming it shut, officially giving up with a thump of her forehead against the wood. “This is why he’s always at the diner.”

“Wait, Rick actually lives here still?” Another hiccup, you foolishly lean your elbows on the counter, something you’ll regret in the morning as you stare at your best friend with a toothy smile, completely unaffected by the news about the missing food that seems to be ruining her entire mood.

“How can he sell weed and not have any food in his house? What happens when he gets the munchies?!” She throws her hands up, ignoring your question and answering it all at the same time. “I’m gonna find a bathroom, and then we’re gonna find Steve - don’t make that face, he’ll take us through a drive-thru.”

“Don’t be gone long, I don’t know anyone here!” You whine with a childish drunk stomp of your foot, still sporting that sour look she told you to wipe off. The carefree girl from moments before now gone in the blink of an eye.

“Literally like five minutes, I swear!” She promises, turning around with a smirk as she crosses her heart with a ring covered finger like you used to do as kids, easily earning the smile from you she was hoping for.

You watch her disappear into the party, staring after bouncing honey waves until they’re out of your sight. 

Suddenly alone for the first time in hours, the kitchen feels quiet. The bass of the music is distant, and your thoughts are heavy just like your feet as your last shot of tequila settles with the rest. Your brain wanders to places that you thought you’d banished from the corners of your mind for years. It takes you to the pink fullness of his lips, and has you biting the bottom of yours. Then it’s the freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and explode across his cheeks, even leaving their mark on the bottom of his earlobe.

You’d found that one the night you’d tried to count them all. You never finished.

Then you remember the blond on the couch, and how her pink nails dug into the thick chestnut of his hair that you used to tug on when his kisses got to be too much. She turns into Nancy Wheeler and those stolen looks in the hallways at school, and suddenly, you hate him all over again.

“Jesus, you’re in here alone? Where’s Robin?” Steve’s voice makes you jump at the worst possible time, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scar-“

“Seriously?!” You snap, turning around with crossed arms. Leaning against the counter, you hope that you don’t seem as drunk as you are, but the way his lips twitch regardless of your attitude tells you that it’s not working. “She went to the bathroom and then was going to look for you.”

“So, it just makes sense for me to hang out here then, right?”Steve raises his hands in a silent plea for permission. 

His big boots take heavy steps towards you, and just like on cue, has your body betraying you. The plush dough of your thighs pressing harder together each time he gets closer to closing the gap. 

Cautiously taking the spot a few feet away from you, he keeps his hands up till he feels safe enough to shove them in his pockets. The spice of his cologne smells fresh, and you wonder if he sprayed it before walking in here. It overpowers everything else around you, invading your senses and committing itself to memory despite you.

“I um, I really hope this is okay to say,” he stammers watching the way one of your eyebrows arches up, and it doesn’t take long for his hand to escape from his pocket to run through his hair again, “but it’s, it’s good to see you. I m-missed you, Robin’s missed you.”

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your girlfriend?” You ignore him and tuck his words away to unpack another time with a sober mind.

“Cassie? She’s not my girlfriend.” He answers without any hesitation, something sparking alive inside the gold of his eyes that has one side of his mouth tugging up. 

“Does she know that?” 

“I’m pretty sure she does considering she left with another guy not that long ago.” He snorts, the confidence you’ve always known him to have finding its way back, and you don’t miss the way he scoots closer. 

So you scoot back.

“Sucks to suck, Harrington.” You sigh, impressed with how well you’re playing off the victory lap you’re shamefully running in your head at the new information.

“There you are!” Robin rushes in, face flushed and out of breath, interrupting the moment you weren’t ready to have yet at the perfect time “Somehow I got roped into like a keg stand and I think it’s really time for us to go home guys.”

“Robin!” 

“What?!”

She tries to shush you, but even you can see from across the room the way sweat starts to bead across her forehead, the blush in her cheeks going pale before she runs to the trash can. Steve pushes off the island without any hesitation, rushing to the other side of the kitchen, gathering her hair in his hands to hold it back.

“What were you thinking?” Steve scolds her in the softest way possible, rubbing her back as all the beer finds its way out of her body.  

Those big eyes of his that you’re sure are going to haunt your dreams meet yours, and in that moment the room decides it wants to spin. You’re not sure if it’s the night of tequila with nothing but a weed chaser catching up to you or if it’s the onslaught of feelings you’ve successfully suppressed for the last five years coming back to seek their revenge. The deadly combination of both comes to a head the more you watch the gentle way Steve handles Robin and it makes you realize it’s time to go.

You manage to pull yourself together enough to help Steve get Robin in his car, heart almost stopping when you walk up to the same Maroon BMW he took your virginity in. It takes everything inside of you not to abort the mission, run to Robin’s apartment by figuring your way through the woods you used to play in, do anything but sit in those leather seats. But your best friend’s drunk rambles of how happy she is to have her ‘two amigos and how that it makes three now’ while professing her undying love for both of you has you putting on a brave face, and then your big girl pants when you have to sit in the front seat next to him.

It’s in perfect condition, just like the morning he pulled into the parking lot Junior year with it. Your stomach twists in the kind of knots that have you wrapping your arms around your waist. The smell of leather and pine pulling on the back of your throat, and all the memories that come with it. He keeps the radio low, and you can hardly make out the faint sounds of whatever late night talk show was on over the soft snores of a passed out Robin in the backseat. 

“I thought you’d have a different car by now.” You grumble sinking further into your seat, keeping your eyes trained on the trees that zoom past your window.

“You’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands, honey.” Steve chuckles, relaxing a little more into his own, a big hand finding a new resting spot on the stick shift.

The endearment sends you reeling, the tequila making it hard to bite your tongue.

“Don’t call me that.” Quickly realizing that staring out the window does nothing to help your already dicey equilibrium, you decide to finally look at him, but you’re not sure if that’s any better.

‘What? Honey?” He asks, fully knowing the answer but egging you on just the same with a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Narrowing your eyes, you turn fully in your seat doing your best to ignore the way the street lights bounce off his sharp features as you face him.

“What? So you just make out with girls that you’re not dating and get away with it?” 

Steve snorts, licking his lips and meeting your angry gaze with an amused one. 

“I am twenty-four and single.”

Scoffing at his answer, you pause to collect your words that keep getting tangled on the tip of your tongue from too many drinks and how the whites of his teeth start to show in a grin as he glances in the rearview mirror to check on Robin.

“You think you can do whatever you want don’t you?”

“No -“

“What? Because you didn’t peak in high school like you were supposed to, you somehow just got hotter, you think the rules don’t apply to you or something?”

“Good to know you still think I’m hot.” Steve’s face cracks into a smile, turning into an apartment complex you’re assuming is Robin’s. 

“You’re the worst,” you try to deflect weakly, turning back in your seat with a huff.

“I definitely used to be,” he mumbles mostly to himself, putting the car in park, both of you jerking forward slightly. The sudden lack of movement makes Robin groan in the back, lashes fluttering open to look at her surroundings.

“Oh, thank god, I think I’m gonna be sick again.” Her throat sounds hoarse when she finally speaks, but it’s all she can manage before a dry heave has the boy next to you scrambling.

“Not in my car! Not in my car!” Steve’s quick to jump out of the driver's seat rushing to get your best friend out of the back, leaving you alone to fight with your seatbelt. 

Frustrated, you blow a breath out from between your pressed lips tugging on the smooth material while your thumb smashes the release button. It doesn’t budge and the cedar starts to pick at your nerves. An angry noise squeaks from the back of your throat catching Steve’s attention who finally gets Robin on her feet. The spice of his cologne swallows you whole when he emerges back into the car. Leaning over the console he’s gentle when he pushes your hand away. You don’t protest his help this time, eyes tracing the gold chain that slips out from under his shirt. It shimmers everytime it swings from his neck when it hits the moonlight, clicking the button with ease, releasing you from your self imposed trap.

“Thanks,” you grumble, using a wobbling arm to open your door, clambering out less gracefully than you intended.

“Are you good to follow me? I don’t think Robin’s gonna make it up the steps on her own.” Closing the car door, he leans over the top of it, his eyes watching the way you maneuver around his car like you’re walking on thin ice.

“I’m fine,” you growl, right as you lose your footing catching yourself with an open palm on the hood of his trunk.

“Seriously, I can help I just have to take you both one at a -“

“Steve, I said I’m fine. I don’t need anything from you.” You interrupt and if you weren’t so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, you’d see the way the harshness of your words make him wince.

He stares at you for a minute longer before muttering a quiet ‘whatever’ scooping Robin up and tucking her into his side. You follow them at your own pace up the cement steps to the second floor, thankful that her apartment isn’t too far from the landing when you get to the top. Your legs start to feel like Jell-O waiting for him to unlock the door, the long drive from New York and the night finally catching up to you in a way that makes your eyelids heavy as Steve pushes open her front door. 

“Bathroom! Bathroom!” Robin manages to get out when she and Steve cross the threshold first, a string of cuss words spilling out of his mouth as he tries to hurry her to the place she was begging to be taken to.

You use the full force of your weight with your back to the door, closing behind you with a loud slam. The navy blue couch in the middle of her living room begging you to sit down, an invitation your clumsy steps accept, leading you to the fluffy cushions. Collapsing onto them with a satisfied hum, you sink into the foam, lashes fluttering and eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes, and soon you find yourself giving in with a warm cheek pressed into the arm rest.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the feeling of your laces being tugged loose stirs you awake. Trying to focus with vision still blurry from sleep, Steve’s messy head of hair comes clear into your line of sight. Long fingers pull the white strings from the metal eyelets of your converse, a warm palm wrapping around your ankle that sends a shiver up your spine as he slowly wiggles your sneaker off your foot. The white tube socks that cover your feet make him smile with a thumb that dares to rub a small circle on your skin before dropping it to work on the other.

“Steve,” you manage to get out, voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m just tucking you in, that’s all hon- and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He clears his throat after the nickname that set you off earlier burns like acid dying on his tongue.

You grumble something unintelligible, rubbing the mascara off your eyes as he pulls your other shoe off the pad of his thumb doing the same thing to your other ankle making your toes curl. Both his hands find their way to your calves squeezing softly at the muscles before he starts to lift them up.

“Come on, let's get you laying on your side.” He coos, helping you adjust so you’re finally horizontal. You groan a little, reaching out for him on instinct, the softness of his touch making a very drunk you crave more. 

“I’d love to cuddle but I think you’d actually kill me in the morning,” he laughs to himself knowing you won’t remember any of this when you wake up.

You make some more noises that he can’t figure out if they're supposed to be words or not as he drapes Robin’s thick throw blanket over you. Grabbing the material in your fists when you feel it, you pull it even closer, a low satisfied hum spilling from between your lips that still sparkle with leftover glitter from your gloss. He watches the way you curl into yourself, fingers twitching at his side to run his knuckles over your cheek.

“Steve,” his name comes out clear as day, kicking up his heart rate.

“Yeah?” He squats down next to your face, the warmth of your breath hitting his face while your eyebrows furrow in your sleepy state trying to get whatever you want to say out.

“You really broke my heart, you know that?”

Your words punch the air out of his lungs, just like your unexpected arrival. Something he’s fantasized about happening more times than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs defeated, giving into his urges for comfort with knuckles that brush against the warmth of your skin, a familiar burn stings his eyes when you subconsciously lean into it. 

You don’t say anything else to him, the furrow of your brows smoothing out as your face finally starts to relax under his touch. He watches the way your shoulders move with each deep breath that pulls you further into sleep and away from him. 

He takes a selfish minute to stare at you uninterrupted, tracing your cheekbone one last time before he stands up to leave, he knows he won’t get any sleep, and the words you won’t remember saying are already haunting him like a bad dream.

“Do you really wanna love me like you say you do? Give it to me like you say you do? Cause it’s hard enough you gotta treat me like this, lonely enough to let you treat me like this. Do you really love me?”

Steve was late, glancing down at pink the digital watch on your wrist, fifteen minutes late. Five lockers down from his, you wait for him at what’s been your meeting spot for the last eight months. Far away enough from his locker that no one would suspect you waiting for the King of Hawkins himself, but close enough to the janitor's closet for him to steal you away from sight without anyone noticing for the forty-five minutes of study hall. 

Hushed argumentative whispers catch your attention, nerves making your feet move from side to side unsure if you should abandon ship and just go and study for the final in your last period. Nancy Wheeler's eyes meet yours as she rounds the corner with her best friend Barb, the corners of her lips pulling up ever so slightly giving you a small wave which you return as she tries to ignore her friend.

“He’s just trying to get in your pants! Come on, you have to be smart enough to know that.” Barb points at the note Nancy is clutching in her hand so hard that the whites of her knuckles show.

“It’s not like that, I’m just tutoring him.” She argues but the blush that creeps across her cheeks and spreads down her neck gives her away.

I’m just tutoring him.

That simple sentence is enough for your world to tip off its axis, chest tightening at the realization of who they're arguing about. All the canceled plans the past few weeks with the excuse of extra tutoring starts to feel like a knife to the gut. Prince Charming rounds the corner holding and twists the handle with a bright flirtatious smile that used to be just for you, only now it’s flashed at the dainty brunette who melts under it because no one is immune to Steve Harrington. 

It takes him a minute to see you, too wrapped up in Nancy who’s back is pressed to the lockers, caged in by Steve’s big hand splayed against the metal by her head. They’re too far to hear what he’s saying to her, but the confident way his teeth flash and the sweet giggle he earns from it tells you everything you need to know. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. Fists clenched at your sides, the blunt ends of your nails dig into your palms as you hold in the sob that threatens to give you away as you walk past them, meeting his guilty eyes before you round the corner.  

The pounding in your head wakes you up before the sun that leaks through Robin’s small kitchen window. Your hangover rings in your ears with a vengeance, and has you letting out a pained groan. Everything after the joint you shared outside at the party is nothing but a blur, a scattered puzzle with pieces missing as you try and figure out how you ended up back home and tucked into the couch. 

“Are you alive out there?” Robin’s voice calls out weakly from down the hall in her room. 

“Barely,” you grumble, agitation kicking in from dehydration and the old wounds your dream decided to rip open.

“I’d say I’m never drinking again but we both know that’s a lie,” she says, muffled by what sounds like a pillow.

A giggle tries to escape, but it only makes you wince, clutching your forehead willing the pain to subside.

“How’d we even get home?” You croak, rubbing harshly at your eyes before attempting to sit up, covering them with a cupped palm as your surroundings get brighter.

“Steve,” Robin’s voice comes out right next to you, surprising you by appearing in the entryway. 

Hearing his name out loud sends the kind of rage that scorches through your veins, it burns from your fingertips remembering the look on his face when you broke up a few weeks after that day in the hallway your dreams so sweetly reminded you of. 

It was Pity.

Your best friend ignores your silence and the sour look on your face as you silently take a trip down memory lane while she shuffles into the living room wandering to the attached kitchen. 

“How far is Eddie’s shop from here?” You grimace watching her chug from a carton of orange juice.

“Oh, super close. You can walk from here.” She answers, wiping her upper lip with the back of your hand, “they opened like two hours ago, I’m sure he’s already looked at your car.”

“I think I’m going to shower and go over, do you want to come with me?” Raising your hands above your head, you stretch your sore muscles as a yawn comes out in the middle of your question.

“I think I need to rot in bed for a little while longer before I go walk amongst the living, I promise I’m all yours after I don’t feel like a freaking crypt keeper.” Your yawn is contagious, giving you a view of all her perfectly straight teeth.

“I demand something greasy for lunch when I get back then.” You point at her finding your footing on the carpet, noticing your converse are tucked nice and neat against the couch next to you. The feeling of Steve’s knuckles is a ghost against your skin, details starting to come out clear from the murky waters. 

Heat rushes to your cheek at the memory while your emotions start to go at war with each other over what to feel towards the man who tucked you and your best friend in last night, but also broke your heart in a way you don’t think you’ll ever quite forget. 

“I’m on it boss, god, I wish Benny’s was still open.” Robin interrupts the inner struggle she’s oblivious to you having as she walks past you flinging herself on the couch you’d just won the battle of leaving “But I’ll think of something good, I promise.”

Just like your yawn, the smile she gives you is contagious despite the sharp pain you get in your head from moving too much and you both laugh wincing when it only gets worse. 

Ibuprofen first, then your car.

Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud in sight to hide you from its light. 

The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty-four hours and everything it’s unraveled.

The small parking lot is empty when you reach it, kicking small rocks with the toe of your sneaker as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi-lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall-clad legs underneath it.

Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you get a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, a dimple filled grin lighting up his face waving excitedly from his chair before standing up.

“Glad to see you’re alive, princess.” He teases stepping out of his glass case, with coveralls that are gray today.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle,” you laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to have any reaction to the sound of your voice.

“Oh, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dancing across his arm with his movements.

“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.

“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed, “I slept through my alarm.”

The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light with obvious amusement. 

“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of it shines with sweat. 

“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.” 

That was a lie, he begged him.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Snorting, your attitude makes him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, his lack of sleep leaving him with thin patience.

He stops just close enough for you to smell how the woodsy spice of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.

“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way both of your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.

“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.

“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”

“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial-up on the radio in his office. End of discussion.

“Look -“

“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them. 

A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it helps your blood pressure return to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.

“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“

“Shit? Yeah, I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…

“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.

“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him. 

“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe, like, six months ago.”

“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”

“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.

“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.” 

“Is this the bad news?” 

“Kind of,”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.

“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.

“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.

“You’re gonna be just fine, city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”

He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck. 

“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.

“Me?” 

He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch. 

“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.

He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath. 

Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.

“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes. 

“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap. A thumb and forefinger finding their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his toothpaste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.

“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts, okay?”

It’s like detention junior year all over again as you turn into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his workbench before adding,

“Do me a favor and tell Robin she owes me a new shirt.”

beta’d by @sweetsweetjellybean

🌻 chapter two

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n

[charlottecutepie]

☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

author note: Ive been thinking for a very long time whether I should publish this fic here. this is my fav fic I wrote for fnaf, I especially like the way I portrayed William here. so please, if any of you would like to see this story here, can you leave a comment? It’ll help me to understand. I’m just unsure if I should post this fic here :’’)

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 2.

Chapter 1. Thoughts

Chilly spring night. Light wind and rain. It's so fresh outside that the opposite effect appears: you feel as if you are suffocating from excess air. Outside is your favourite smell of wet grass after the rain. Light smile appears on your lips, and you carelessly go out on the porch of your house, looking at the beautiful view in front of you.

At such moments, everything around seems to be a part of you, you feel some kind of connection with nature and this world. Peace, tranquility, two things what you lack in life.

Today was a bad day. Maybe tomorrow will be better? Tomorrow will be the same. And when will it be better? Does this hell have an end?

Your head is filled with bad thoughts. It feels like every day is getting a little worse than the previous one. You never understood why you deserved such treatment from your father. It was as if he was doing everything so that you wouldn't feel like his daughter. He never even called you that. Something bad happened in your family every day, mom and dad always argued, and you always ran into your room in a state of panic, anxiety. What if father does something to her? That's what happened a few years ago. When you called your aunt in tears, begging her to come, because your father broke your mom's leg and beat her to a concussion. You could have been next if your aunt hadn't arrived on time. That evening, the picture of father changed dramatically in your little child's head.

“Father” means something cold, something cruel. The one who can punch, beat, shout, scream. Abuse.

You live with this thought to this day, but the only thing that has changed is that now there is no father anymore. He died a month ago, which was a shock to your whole little family. You hardly remember what happened exactly on the day of his death, but you clearly memorised your mother who cried all night because she knew well that the only one who could work to feed the family was her husband.

And now, because of this husband she cannot find a well-paid job, because he took care to provide her with a serious disability. And you're too young to work, first you must finish school and university.

Your skin was covered with goosebumps, you went back into the house. Passing by mom's room, you made sure that she was asleep and went to your own one.

Tomorrow is another day.

…

June 22.

“Y/n, breakfast is ready.” you heard mom's voice from the kitchen. Telling her you'd be coming soon, you headed to the bathroom to comb your hair and wash your face.

On the dining table you saw a plate with your favorite breakfast. Pancakes with honey, it couldn't not make you happy. You smiled and sat down opposite your mom. Woman was in a joyful mood.

“Good morning, dear, how did you sleep?” she asked gently, examining your face expression. That's how your conversation started, about everything and nothing at once. She told something about her plans for today, for a week, about her friends, about how one of them gave birth again. You just enjoyed her monologue, sometimes nodding and shaking your head. It was nice for you to see a sparkle in mom's eyes, it was something strange and unique for you, but warming soul. “I absolutely forgot that soon is your birthday!”

“Oh, really? If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have remembered…” you answered in confusion, fidgeting in your chair and twitching your leg. For some reason, the mention of your birthday made you uncomfortable. Probably because it will be your first birthday without your father. After all, when he was alive, you never really celebrated it. The maximum that was — sweets that your mother gave you in secret from him. You wonder what will happen this time?

“How are we going to celebrate?” Mom asked, smile on her face.

You looked at the floor, nervously fiddling with your shorts. You scratched your head, trying to think of something, but no idea came to mind. Your thoughts are empty again.

“It's your 18th birthday… We need to celebrate it well somehow.” for a second she paused, before looking at you with cheerful face. “Oh… Mr. Afton!”

Your eyes widened in surprise, because after the funeral, your family stopped communicating with Afton family.

“Mom, what are you up to?” you frowned. To be honest, you always got shivers running down your spine from his name, because your last meeting was at that cemetery, on the day of your father's funeral. Memories have entered your mind, forcing you to remember your last dialogue with Mr. Afton.

After the burial itself happened, you ran away from the crowd away. Your heart was racing like crazy, trying to jump out of your chest. You sat down on a wet bench, covering your face in hysterics. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping onto a puddle under the bench.

“Young lady,” a low-pitched male voice called you out of hysteria. “Everything is okay? You've been sitting here for hour.”

You opened your eyes and raised your head. Next to you was standing was a tall, middle-aged man with dark brown hair, dressed in black trousers and a jacket. He leaned towards you, holding an umbrella over your head. His face seemed painfully familiar, but because of the hysteria, you couldn't remember who it was.

“Oh god, Y/n? I didn't recognize you, little one. Why are you sitting here all alone?” he smiled broadly as he sat down next to you on the bench, still holding the umbrella for you. “Your mom is looking for you, she's so worried. Her beloved girl is lost.”

You recognised this man. It was none other than William Afton. One of your father's friends, he often came to visit you, and your family also visited him. You were embarrassed by ignoring his questions because you didn't know what to respond. He's been staring at your face the whole time.

“Come on, princess, I see how cold you are.” with these words, he took off his jacket, putting it on your shoulders. “I understand how hard it is for you, honey.”

You haven't received so many nicknames from any men for all your 17 years of life. Never, not once. His voice at some point began to seem more comfortable and soothing. Because of all the surging emotions, you burst into tears again in front of him, no longer hiding your face. William, not wasting a minute, threw umbrella and took you in his arms, so that your face was hidden in his chest. His cold hands stroked your hair, soothing you, calming you. It may have looked strange from out of context, but you really needed support in such hard moment.

“Don't cry, Y/n. You'll be fine, little one.” he talked and talked endlessly, but because of your own tears and sobs, you ignored everything, only burying your nose in his chest more.

“He's the owner of a pizzeria! Do you want to celebrate there? I'm sure he'll give us a discount in honor of such an event.” her smile never disappeared for a second. You were already beginning to doubt at how real her emotions were.

“Are you sure? We don't have much money anyway…”

“Never mind, I want you to finally have the best birthday, dear.” she winked and got up from the table, putting the plates and mugs in the sink.

Your lips curled at the thought of having to see William again.

#william afton smut #fnaf x reader #william afton x reader #steve raglan x reader #fnaf william afton #michael afton x reader #william afton imagines #fnaf x y/n

[l0ves1ckf0ol]

NOT SO BAD | xavier thorpe x gn!reader

"rita wouldn't be wrong though."

this was requested by anon, but i accidentally posted it by accident ( a draft) but then i took down the post to write a new one (aka this one) enjoy (also theres some mentions of death so.)

"hey freak!" before xavier could even turn around and see who it was, he got shoved down to the brick floor, he would have tasted dirt if he didn't close his mouth. he sighed, standing up to look back at the jericho goons, "you think you could storm your way here? in our own homes? you're the one who makes drawings come to life right?" they flood xavier's head with taunting questions that he didn't even get to answer.

it was the dreaded day of the festival. he had a lot of stuff going on in his head, and he certainly did not want to have his fun with these normies. defeated, he continues to walk away, not wanting to deal with them right now. they kept on chasing him though, until he stops next to a certain someone.

"look will you guys just shut the fuck up and leave me alone, you won't even be eating real food right now if it weren't for our principal funding your stupid charities to a town that can't even appreciate the minority." xavier spat, fed up the dudes just looked stunned, he thought he'd shut them up but it wasn't quite the case. xavier turns around to see a normie, in which was glaring dread into their souls.

"scram." that they did.

once they scrambled away, xavier only stared at the person. they look towards xavier and sighed, "sorry. the welcome comittee isn't as welcoming as it is intended." they apologized. xavier hummed, as his eyes landed on the tray of bread samples you were selling by a bakery.

"hey, can i have one? long day." he asks and they nodded in response. he takes a piece of cheese bread and began to eat.

xavier begins to wonder why he hasn't seen you, in the previous trips to jericho. "you new here?" he asked "ancestors lived here for years, i just went insane and managed to run away. and by insane i meant that an outcast friend of mine was killed." you told him, xavier sighed "did you kill that friend?"

you laughed hysterically, he then grew concerned of your behavior. "no, no, i didn't. someone killed her, no one in this town would just admit it. it's kept on the down low since then." you replied gravely. "when was this?" he questions you, you could sense his own curiosity "she didn't even make it until school starts to actually go to your school, she stayed at home mostly, it was around june when she got killed."

xavier hummed, never hearing of such a thing. it really was well hidden, if not, the normie was lying.

"your name?" xavier looked at them and forced a smile "xavier." you nodded, "y/n."

"i'm visiting her later, well by later i mean 30 minutes from now, my shift ends from there. wanna meet up there?" xavier scoffed, "typical setting to beat an outcast up, huh?" you rolled your eyes, "look mr. trust issues, i know you're on edge and shit and it's more than fine if you wouldn't come. as much as i hate to say this, you're unattracting customers." you grit your teeth, facing the groups of people staring at the both of you. xavier then walks away, contemplating whether or not would he want to meet up a normie.

he looks back, seeing customers now swarning the normie with the tray of bread, seeing you smile and attend to them made his heart go soft for a moment.

at that moment, he swerved his direction to the cemetery instead of weathervane.

-

when he arrived, you were following right behind him. holding a plastic bag of chips and scented candles. "what are the chips for?" he asks you as you stomped on orange autumn leaves, on your way to your friend's grave, passing by mossy and old ones, xavier was still doubtful of his decision, the cemetery was inclosed and no one would even hear him scream for help. "rita hates flowers, she likes junk food and scented candles so i bought some." you told him as you finally slowed down to a less flithy gravestone. you set down a bag of lays chips on the stone and opened one for yourself, setting down the candles as well. xavier crossed his arms as he read the engravings:

rita lupin

born: 2006 died: 2021

it was glad to know that his possible normie friend wasn't an asshole after all. he has never been to a funeral before, let alone even visited a grave, this was his first time and he definitely didn't expect some smiles from you as you stare down at the grave.

"hey rita, this is xavier. he was going to be your classmate y'know? anyway what are you- a werewolf or.."

"i'm just telekinetic."

he did not expect a normie to be talking to a grave.

you looked at the sky, closing your eyes and smiled. "rita would find you cute." you chuckle, he raises an eyebrow, stifiling a giggle "wow, rita is nice." he mutters. you knelt down and grab a lighter from you back pocket and leaned the candles on the stone, lighting up each one "i mean rita is not wrong though" you wink at him and he rolls his eyes with a wry chuckle. now it was just plain silence, the wind brushing past them, leaves occasionally floating along with it.

"do you ever cry, whenever you... y'know, visit her?" he asked you. "who wouldn't? she's the best werewolf i met." you replied, now facing him ever since you both arrived here. "you've never visited a grave before?" you asked. he shook his head, "nope." you nod in response. "to relieve you right now, sorry for y'know whatever normies fo to you and your peers. i also actually never knew you all existed until.." you trail off. the silence grew louder, xavier raised an eyebrow.

"until?"

"until ol' rita here." you point towards her with a sigh. xavier examines you, you're glassy eyes and your longing gaze, you seemed genuine. he didn't know why would you invite an outcast like him to visit your dead friend, or why did he even agree.

xavier silently admits he was wrong about this normie. maybe they were the exception, they weren't that bad after all.

#wednesday x reader #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x gn reader #gn reader #xu's fics #wednesday addams netflix #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe fanfic

[agostobuwan]

a kiss

firstprince | Alex is having a little trouble trying to convince himself that his New Year's kiss with Henry didn't mean anything

1.4k words, rwrb-compliant

read on ao3

—

It’s been a week since the White House Trio rang in the New Year, and Alex is still thinking about it. He tells Nora and June that it didn’t mean anything. It was just a kiss. A silly, little kiss. Between two bros. Bros, homies, buddies who kiss. The best of bros and close personal friends, according to the conjoined efforts of the White House and Buckingham Palace. 

It’s absolutely fine. He had that weird thing with Liam in high school, and that didn’t mean anything. Right? Right. 

He’s still having trouble convincing himself, though. 

So what if Henry kissed him at his New Year’s Eve party. So what if he grabbed his hair and touched his face in a way that made his legs turn to jelly. So what if he tasted like mint and expensive champagne. So what if his lips felt so plush and soft against his mouth, like he uses fucking lip scrubs and chapstick religiously. So what if he kissed him back. So what if he kind of, maybe, liked it? So what.

He still hates him, the smug, snobby son of a bitch. It’s all Henry’s fault that he’s spiraling in the first place, so yes, he definitely does hate him, don’t get it twisted. 

It’s been a week, and he just wants Henry to talk to him. He’s been having a lot of one-sided conversations with himself on their text thread, and he hates to say it, but it’s getting a little lonely and sad. Alex is very big on confrontation—he’s an aspiring lawyer, after all—so this whole ghosting situation isn’t going to cut it. He’s itching to do something about it, something drastic, maybe, but June thinks flying across the Atlantic to kiss Henry senseless might be a bit of an overkill. 

Oh, and yeah, that’s been a recent development. He’s pretty sure he isn’t entirely straight. Probably bisexual, and he wants to kiss Henry now. Preferably against a wall, but he’ll take anything he can get. That is, if he can actually get the guy to talk to him. He knows the PM’s dinner is coming up at the end of the month, so he’s going to need to pull something together before then. 

Nora gives him a seventy-seven percent success rate and a forty-five percent chance that it might just all backfire on him, and Alex accuses her of having no faith in him at all. She just laughs and pats his head like he’s some kind of fucking child, and he has to wonder why he’s friends with her in the first place. 

School distracts him enough that he doesn’t need to think too much about Henry and his preferred way of dealing with things—also known as, running away—but at night, when it is just him and his thoughts (and his trusty right hand), that’s when things get a little tricky (and a bit sticky). 

January flies by, and suddenly, it’s the night of the PM’s dinner. Alex is antsy and swipes a flute of champagne to keep himself from spiraling even more than he already is. He anxiously keeps glancing over at the door, jumping every time a new arrival is announced.

“Looking for someone?” 

Alex nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of his sister’s voice. When he turns to her, she has a stupid fucking grin on her face, like she knows something that he doesn’t, and he isn’t dumb enough to doubt that. June is the eldest and the wisest out of the Claremont-Diaz siblings, and she always seems to have a leg-up on Alex every single damn time. 

“Fucking Christ, you need a bell.” 

June laughs and plucks the champagne out his hands and takes a sip of her own. 

“Hey! Get your own.”

“Sure, but only if you stop looking at the door every twenty seconds. You look like you’re about to pass out, Little Bit.”

Alex scowls at the nickname and snatches the glass out of June’s hand, finishing it off before she even has the chance to steal it back. 

June rolls her eyes and rests her hands placatingly on her brother’s shoulders. “Dude, you need to calm the fuck down. Dinner hasn’t even started yet, and I can already smell the BO radiating off of you.”

He instinctively lifts an arm and takes a subtle whiff of his pit. “What- Oh, god. Do I stink?”

“Alex,” she stresses, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “I’m just fucking with you.”

“Oh, fuck you, June.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just calm down, will you? He’ll be here soon. So until then, just go around and do what you do best. Schmoozing and looking cute. Just don’t get into any arguments, though. You can do that after Mom’s re-elected.” She gives him a little shove, sending him into the light crowd of international and domestic dignitaries already forming. He gives her the finger behind his back and heads off. 

He decides to make his way over to the open bar for something stronger than champagne when he’s stopped by none other than Miguel Ramos. God, he probably needs to start double-fisting to get through the evening. He hides his grimace behind a well-practiced smile and tries his best to keep up with the conversation without looking too distracted. His ears pick up Texas strategy in the midst of all his droning, and he fails to hide his surprise. Miguel says that he has his sources like it’s some kind of acceptable explanation, and Alex suddenly has the urge to smack the smirk off his face. 

He doesn’t have the chance to do it, however, because they’re announcing His Royal Highness’ arrival, and Henry is walking—more like, sauntering in and looking far too good in a suit and bowtie. Kissing Henry becomes a need more than a want at this point. 

He leaves Miguel before the guy can get another word in edgewise and heads over to Amy with a simple request. It takes some sly maneuvering, but the Red Room is his best chance to actually have a private conversation with Henry. 

Alex is just a bundle of nerves as he waits for Henry to step into the room. He knows he’s being ridiculous, but he thinks the portrait of Alexander Hamilton is judging him. He has half a mind to flip the painting over so he won’t have his beady eyes looking at him anymore, because he doesn’t need another white man questioning his life choices. He nearly considers it, too, but that’s just insane. He should be thinking about what he’s going to say to Henry, not United States historical figures and how their ghosts are probably judging for being so stupid. If they weren’t racist and homophobic first. 

Okay, shut up, brain.

Before he has a chance to even pretend to look normal, the door is already opening, and in steps Henry, gliding in like the fucking angel he is. It should infuriate him, because no one should be looking that beautiful, but he sees Henry, and all the words he’s planned to say leave his brain in an instant. He is dumbfounded. 

“Look, Alex. I’m so-”

“Shut up. Stop talking.” He crosses the room in two long strides and pulls Henry into his arms, and before his brain resets and he can start thinking again, he is slamming their mouths together. 

Then, Henry pushes him away.

“Wait a minute.” 

While Henry’s having his own crisis a few feet away, Nora’s analytical numbers flash across his brain, reeling through his mind like a broken record. Seventy-seven. Forty-five. Seventy-seven. Forty-five. Seventy-seven. Forty-five.

Oh, fuck. They’re kissing again. 

Henry drags him in by the lapels of his dinner jacket, and Alex eagerly follows. Their lips meet again, the kiss hurried and driven by the heat burning under their skin. Everything zeroes in on that moment, and all he can think about is the curve of his lips, all soft and supple, the way his hips fit perfectly under his hands, the solid weight of his body against his. 

Alex presses him into the wall. Fuck Hamilton and his judgy stare. He slots himself between his thick, sinful thighs, and drags a leg up to wrap around his waist. He twists his hips slightly just, and he groans into Henry’s mouth when he feels just how hard he is in his trousers. He’s hard, too, and it takes everything in him not to cum in his underwear.

God, he just wants to do bad, very bad things to this man, and he’s pretty sure Henry will let him. Now he just has to figure out how to get him up to his room. 

One-hundred percent success rate. Eat shit, Nora.

#alex & henry's infinite playlist #firstprince #firstprince fic #alex x henry #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #my fic #Spotify

[citrusses]

March: 2023 Wrapped 🎁🍊

A monthly roundup of *some* of my favorite fics of the year.

January | February | March | April, May, June | July | August | September | October | November | December

A Time, Dark and Divine by @moonflower-rose (E, 17K)

On a humid night in Portugal, Draco Malfoy opens a door that Ron had thought long closed.

The writing! The sex! The longing! The jealousy! The Dronarry! I am not a frequent reader of this ship but this fic grabbed me and did not let go!

Draco Malfoy and the Boy Who Lived by @hsvh-hp (T, 71K)

Having just turned eleven years old, Draco Malfoy is due to start at Hogwarts. He decides that Harry Potter will be his friend before they've even met. This, of course, does not happen.

Earlier this year I said to a friend that I really wanted to read a canon-compliant retelling of HP from Draco's perspective. Lo and behold, this arrived on my doorstep dashboard. This is gripping and wonderful. I can't wait to read the rest of the series.

Imperio by @tenthousandyearsx (E, 3800)

“Imperio,” Malfoy murmured, and Harry’s eyes glazed over, a feeling of rightness descending over him, making him sway. Malfoy smirked. “Good boy.”

I mean. Depraved sex with a very sweet ending? Yeah, I love it.

Mastermind by @schmem14 (E, 10K)

Draco Malfoy has been with Hermione Granger, is currently dating Harry Potter, and he's determined to have Ron Weasley at any cost. He has to complete his set of three, after all…

Dark (very dark) and so compelling. This fic just blew me away.

Save the Date by @mallstars (E, 123K) 

In the twelve years after the war, Harry attends sixteen weddings. As friends and acquaintances vow their lives to one another, he watches quietly from the sidelines. Step by step, Harry pieces himself back together, builds a life from the wreckage of his past and falls, slowly and thoroughly, for Draco Malfoy.

Incredible story that made me cry. The most creative magical landscapes and customs, just heart-stopping narration and character building, this fic is truly so special.

What was your favorite subject in school? by @the-starryknight

"what was your favorite subject in school?" he asks me, late one night, when we've both had too much to drink. i can't tell him the truth.

The way this turned the tumblr poll feature into ART made me giddy with geeky love for both narrative forms and, of course, my favorite of all the ships. Just so inventive, so thought-provoking, and yet the form never distracts from what this is -- a love story.

#citrus recs #2023 recs #drarry fic recs

[xoruffitup]

A Reylo Retrospective (or: The Friends We Made Along the Way?)

After a New York City SNL weekend, I typically write a flaily recap of the incredible show experience on my way home. (See my unabashedly joyous recap posts from Adam’s 2018 and 2020 shows. :)) My friends and I sadly did not make it into the show this time, so I decided to write a recap post of a different kind. This is a retrospective of my years in Reylo/Adam fandom so far, and why they’ve been the best years of my life.

In December 2017, I saw TLJ in theaters for the first time. Like many of you reading this, my life was irrevocably changed in the span of those hours. We all remember the moment when we felt it happen. Maybe it was when Kylo took off his helmet in front of Snoke and bared those wounded eyes. Maybe it was the moment when all sound cut out and the first force bond opened. Maybe it was the moment Kylo appeared shirtless - hot and broad and so so vulnerable. Maybe (as it was for me) it was the moment when he and Rey locked eyes in the throne room, then turned back to back in a slow motion, world-tilting moment that changed everything. Without fail, this is always one of my favorite things to talk about with Reylo friends both new and old. Recalling the moment. That lightning strike of realization that you were seeing something that would indelibly change who you are.

It’s impossible to describe the experience to people who didn’t share in this particular epiphany. But whenever I attempt to do so, I usually phrase it something like this: When I say TLJ changed my life, I don’t just mean the movie itself. I mean that moment was a gateway. It connected me to a community, friendships, and experiences that would beautify and enrich my life in ways I could never have expected.

In June of 2018, I made a hare-brained trip to the Nantucket Film Festival, where Adam would be speaking on a panel with Noah. The event was small, located in a humble school auditorium. I sat in one of the first rows, mere seats away from Greta and Joanne. Adam came onto the stage, and he was everything and nothing I expected. Larger than life. Impossibly small compared to the explosive impact of his presence. An unassuming, compelling, inexplicable force that made my heart race and my stomach swoop. The impact of his presence is something I still can’t describe. This riveting, authentic persona; this irresistible gravity in the way he carries himself; the way he seems to hunch into a body that nonetheless strains the seams of the world around him. I couldn’t take my eyes off him the entire time, and my heart never calmed down. To this day, it still hasn’t. 

Then came September of 2018: Adam’s second SNL appearance and what would be my first time attempting to go to the show. In the week leading up to the show, the undertaking truly gave the impression of insanity. I took an overnight bus to NYC on a Thursday night, and upon my arrival at 5 AM I went straight to join the Standby Line with my humongous backpack and all my things in tow. It was still dark, raining, and I truly contemplated my own sanity as I dug trash bags out from my backpack and bagged all my things in effort to keep everything dry. Then the sun rose, the rain petered out, the one internet friend I’d planned to meet there joined me in line, and as the Friday hours flew by, solidarity and excitement warmed the steadily-growing line. 

When I think back to those ~24 hours of mania, I remember spontaneous pizza parties with new line friends; I remember spirited conversations in the midnight hours about Adam’s filmography and all our respective moments of epiphany that led to us being there - on a NYC street at midnight for a mere chance of watching our collective fave on SNL. I remember random Reylos watching our updates on twitter and sending us food, snacks, and Starbucks in line. (Literally never forget the bike delivery guy who, with a befuddled expression, announced he had a pizza delivery for “….the Reylos in the SNL line???”) I remember the camaraderie, the utter silliness, the crafting of homemade signs so the hundreds of passers-by would stop asking what we were there for. (Ours said ‘What: Saturday Night Live. Why: Kylo Ren.”) I remember the hours flying by, and the utter euphoria of it all - enough to keep us (mostly) warm in even the smallest hours of Saturday morning.

In the show’s Dress Rehearsal the next evening, I sat with three girls I’d never met before that weekend. They’re still three of my best friends to this day. We exchanged numbers after the show that evening and started a group chat (“Designated Adam Drivers,” obviously). In the five years since, every single day that group chat lit up my phone meant it would be a good day. In the years since then, we’ve shared countless experiences that would never have even knocked on my door of possibility, were it not for this miraculous thing called the Reylo/Adam gateway - that spark of recognition and understanding that turned us from strangers to soulmates. 

Since then, we’ve shared almost an embarrassment of riches in terms of experiences together: Four in-person (one virtual) AITAF shows, five Burn This performances/stage doors, the profound highs and lows of the TROS London premiere, Adam’s January 2020 SNL show, Steven Colbert and Seth Meyers appearances, and an array of film festival premieres. (TIFF 2019 for Marriage Story and The Report; Cannes 2021 for Annette; Venice 2022 for White Noise.) Not to mention that last year I went to visit one of those 2018 SNL besties in Australia (along with the other Aussie bestie I met in the 2020 SNL line). 

I realize the above list reflects privilege in terms of my opportunities and work flexibility to travel, and that someone could read the above and think I need to chill the fuck out. But I wrote out that list in attempt to convey the broadening of horizons, the ageless delight, and inexhaustible joy that such a shared passion brings into one’s life. It’s a bright beacon of the kind of excitement most people leave behind in childhood. It’s a reminder of the intangible sources of wonder and inspiration that come from within. It brings together people of disparate ages, backgrounds, and nationalities with a kind of innocent enthusiasm it often feels this world needs so much more of.

Of course, one could always argue this common binding spark is the foundation of fandom culture in general. But I’ve cycled through my fair share of other fandoms pre-Reylo/Adam, and nothing has ever compared to these wondrous heights. And going on six years since my personal TLJ moment, I still feel the conviction in my very toes that nothing else ever will.

In parallel to my real-life adventure squad, these last few years have also seen the cultivation of friendships with other Reylos and fic authors online. Never underestimate the power of a single AO3 comment or twitter DM to spark profound connection. What started as a group of online friends quickly transcended the bounds of cyber space. My “pocket friends” don’t just live in my phone; they’re the people I look forward to telling about my day, the ones I lean on in tough times, the ones whose support and love I know to be constant, no matter physical distance or timezones. They’ve become the indefatigable group of girlfriends my teenaged self might have dreamed up to feature in my adult life. And even as some of us may move on from Reylo/Star Wars, its ties are timeless and unbreakable. We are more than a group of people who cohabitated the same particular corner of the internet for a time. No, we’re kindred spirits who recognized in each other the same values, the same challenges and struggles, the same fears and anxieties, the same hopes and joys. We recognized and nurtured in each other that rare, safe space for our true selves. We were drawn together by this silly, fantastic shared obsession, and together built something real and true that grew well beyond it. 

So why am I writing this terribly sappy and self-indulgent post, you wonder? Well, I suppose my motivation came from the bittersweet experience of this weekend. I suppose it came from the conflicted emotional response I had to not making SNL this time. It came from the moment I realized that while the disappointment felt crushing, I will nonetheless cherish this SNL weekend right alongside the others. 

And why should that mean anything to you, dear reader? Why should you care about my sentimentality? Perhaps because - even if we’ve never spoken either in person or online - we each shared the moment, at one point or another. The moment that led us here - to me writing, you reading, to us sharing this particular little corner of the world. Perhaps because the highs and lows I experienced this weekend are not unlike the wins and losses we all share in this fandom space. The point of this post is not to wallow in temporary disappointment, but to celebrate how far we’ve come in this shared journey. The point is to cut through the haze and the frustration, the scandal and the hurt, to recall the purity of that shared emotion that first called us here. The point is to dedicate a moment of reflection for the love and enthusiasm that guided and shaped all this in the first place. 

To many, Reylo is divisive, even maligned. Nothing we say or do can ever change their warped view. We can, however, know in our heart of hearts that we share something unique and powerful. We can support and love each other; we can see the best in each other. We can fill our shared corner of the world with that magic we each discovered when we stepped through that gateway for the very first time.

#Reylo #Adam Driver #The Last Jedi #SNL

[zombaarbie]

As the World Falls Down

Eddie Munson x Reader (Friends to lovers!)

Synopsis: Reader and Eddie go to see a new movie together. Reader is obsessed with the movie, and one particular song in it. Eddie learns it to impress her, fluff ensues.

A/N: This is not meant to be part of the lil miniseries I've been working on. The idea struck me when As the World Falls Down from The Labyrinth started playing while I was doing homework and I thought this was just too cute not to write. Also, I think the Labyrinth came out in June of '86 so they wouldn't have been in school because summer, but we are going to ignore that plz and thank you. As always, any feedback is welcome! Enjoy :)

*GIF is not mine, but I wish Eddie was*

"Are you busy this Friday?" You bounded up to your best friend's locker, effectively startling him.

Eddie jumped a little at your sudden appearance. "What'd you have in mind?" He shut the door and walked with you to the cafeteria. He had made plans with Henderson, but he wasn't one to turn you down when you wanted to hang out.

"You know that new David Bowie movie that just came out? I thought it looked really good. Wanna go?" You offered him a little smile. One that he soon returned. "It's got goblins and like a shit ton of other cool fantasy creatures!" He couldn't help the lovesick feeling he got in his chest at the way your face lit up when you rambled about the movie.

"Yeah, sounds cool. What time should I pick you up?" You both took your seats at the table. "Well there's a showing at 4. We could go to that and get dinner after?" He nodded at this.

He knew it wasn't a date.

You two hung out together often and considered the other to be your best friend. He knew he didn't have a chance with someone like you, and he sure as hell wasn't going to confess and risk your friendship.

So instead he settled for stolen glances, fleeting touches, and little scenarios that played out over and over again in his head. He wished for more, but he was content being in your life any way you wanted him. Even if that meant being just a friend.

Friday rolled around and it was time for you to get ready. When you got home from school you immediately began looking for an outfit. Something cute, but not trying to hard.

You knew it wasn't a date.

You and Eddie had been friends since you'd moved to Hawkins your freshman year. He was a year older than you. You two had been glued at the hip since your first week when you stood up to Jason for picking on him.

Eddie had always been sweet to you. He would always offer to give you a ride (even though you had your own perfectly good car), hold your backpack when the two of you would walk to class, and even let you sit in his throne during Hellfire meetings. Not that you would actually play; you just sat there, looked cute, and added into the conversation when you could. Occasionally you would actually participate, but your knowledge was limited and Eddie would have to hold your hand through the entire session.

You snapped out of your thoughts as you entered your room. You had about an hour to pick out an outfit and freshen up your hair and makeup before Eddie would arrive.

Even though this was just two friends hanging out you couldn't help your desire to look nice for him.

After getting changed you went to touch up your makeup and hair, slip on your shoes, and add a cute little accessory to enhance your look. You knew you looked adorable. Despite knowing he would never feel the same, you could never shake the hopefulness you'd felt when he'd give you a compliment or use one of his signature pet names. Obviously, he didn't mean anything by it but a girl could dream.

Before you were able to get too engrossed in your wishful thinking, your doorbell brought you back to reality.

As soon as you opened the door Eddie's breath caught in his throat. Of course, you got all dolled up to go out. You always did. And it caught him off guard every. single. time.

"You look beautiful, sweetheart." It was your turn to feel butterflies now as that stupid name left his lips. You had to play it cool. He didn't mean anything by it.

"You don't look too bad, yourself, Munson." You walked down the steps with him to his van, hopping in after he opened the door for you.

After the movie ended you could not stop gushing about two things.

1. Bowie in those tight ass pants.

And 2. The ballroom scene.

The movie overall was amazing, but you couldn't help how much you loved the ballroom. You loved the costumes, specifically Connelly's dress; the atmosphere in the scene; and most importantly, that song.

At the diner you talked Eddie's ear off about how beautiful you thought the song was and how you just had to buy the soundtrack on cassette. He didn't mind thought. He loved watching you talk about something you were passionate about.

Even when you went on and on about that damned song, face full of burger, he thought you were the prettiest little thing he'd ever seen.

After that night at the movie Eddie got an idea. He wasn't good at many things, but definitely knew how to shred his guitar.

His feelings for his best friend had grown every stronger, and he felt like this could be his opportunity to win her over. After all, it was their senior year and he knew she was planning on leaving for college once she graduated. This could be his only chance to confess his feelings before she's out of this shit-hole town and on to bigger and better things.

Two weeks had gone by since they had gone to see that movie. He had two weeks of practice under his belt, and was finally confident enough to execute his plan. He just hoped he wouldn't lose his nerve.

"Hey, sweetheart, wanna come over Saturday?" He hoped she hadn't notice the slight shake in his voice. "Yeah that sounds good." She nodded with that sweet little smile that he loved so much.

She assumed it would be like any other time the two of them would hang out. Watch movies, talk, share a joint, maybe order a pizza. Eddie, however, was finally ready to make his move.

When she arrived at the trailer Eddie was already waiting for her on the couch.

He took her bag for her and put it in his room while she made herself at home. When he came back out a few seconds later, guitar in hand, she didn't think much of it. It wasn't out of the ordinary for him to lazily pick at his guitar while she was there.

Initially, Eddie was going to wait a little bit before he carried out his master plan. But he grew more and more nervous as it got closer to the time was expected to come over. He knew it was now or never. He had to jump into it before he lost his nerve completely.

He took a seat on the couch next to her. He was worried his hands would be too shaky to play at this point, but he pushed on.

"Hey," He grimaced internally at how weak his voice sounded. "I, uh, l know you really liked that one song. So I learned it. For you." He hated how awkward he sounded. He had gone over what he was going to say beforehand, but forgot everything as soon as he opened his mouth.

He felt that dull ache in his heart. It hurt, feeling like he wasn't good enough for you. He was unapologetically himself, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't started to feel like he really was a freak after hearing it so often.

Your gasp brought him back to the present. "That's so sweet, Ed! Can I hear it?" His heart clenched, seeing those big doe-eyes looking up at him. Thought it made him nervous, he loved being this close to you. He adored these moments when he was able to really take in your features and envelop himself in your scent.

He was a sucker for your signature cotton candy perfume that you wore religiously. He even had a habit of waiting to wash shirts or jackets of his that you'd borrowed, wanting to keep the lovely fragrance around as long as possible.

Eddie only nodded in response. After taking in a shaky breath he began playing the guitar portion that was towards the end of the song.

You watched him with wide eyes. It was always so beautiful to see him doing something he loved. He was so talented with his guitar. You knew that one day he and his band would make it big, and you always told him so.

He looked downright heavenly when he was in his element like this. You couldn't resist staring at the way his fingers so smoothly plucked at the strings of his guitar. You'd bet he learned this song in no time. He always picked new ones up so effortlessly.

After he played the last note he set his guitar down gently, hands shaking. "Oh, Eddie, that was- that was amazing!" Before you could stop yourself you threw your arms around his neck. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around your torso. "I'm glad you liked it sweetheart."

When the two of you pulled back the energy had shifted. You could tell he was nervous about something. "Everything okay?" You put a hand on his forearm, concern growing.

Eddie let out a shaky breath. He knew that what he was about to do would change your dynamic forever, he just hoped that if things went sour you two would at least stay friends.

"Actually, I need to talk to you about something." You looked at him expectantly, letting him know you want him to go on. "(Y/n)... Sweetheart. I- fuck." He laughed dryly at his inability to form a sentence.

"What is it Eddie?" You looked up at him through your lashes, hand still on his forearm.

This had all gone so much more smoothly when he planned it out in his head. He had been confident and knew exactly what he was going to say and how he was going to see it. All of that went out the window when he looked into your eyes.

He felt like if he said the wrong thing he would lose the most important person in his life. He had allowed you to break down his walls and now he was at your mercy. He was, effectively, wrapped around your finger. Reduced to mush any time you came around.

"I'm in love with you." And it was the truth. He was truly, madly, deeply, in love with you. Unable to make eye contact, he looked to the floor. Suddenly, the carpet had become very interesting.

A hand turned his face towards the girl he had been dreaming about for the past four years. "Do you mean that?" Your voice was a whisper. It was all you could muster at this point.

Eddie's hand reached up to hold the hand still on his cheek. He was gentle, as if his touch could break her. "I do. But I won't hold it against you if you don't feel the same."

It was crazy how he had been reduced to a shy little boy in this moment. He had always been softer with you. But seeing loud, boisterous Eddie 'larger than life' Munson in this state was unnerving.

A smile spread across your face at his confirmation. You leaned in slowly, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was slow, tender, but filled with passion. Years worth of pent-up affection finally able to be released.

Your hand slid up his arm to grip his bicep, while he pulled you closer by your waist. After a moment you pulled away, letting out a soft breath. "I'm in love with you too."

At this a dope, lovesick grin spread across Eddie's face. He pulled you in for another kiss, and you obliged without hesitation. You knew you had a lot of lost time to make up for.

From here on out you two would have each other fully. Maybe it would be a challenge after graduation. You were going away for college, but you knew Eddie hated this town. Maybe he wouldn't be opposed to moving with you.

Whatever happens you knew you would always have each other, even if the world fell down.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x reader #eddie x reader fluff #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x female reader #eddie x you #eddie x y/n

[anticomedygarden]

England's got a new queen!

part 1 of 6

Buckingham Palace silent amid reports of sick Queen

Reports came in early this morning of Queen Mary falling suddenly ill overnight. Authorities have yet to determine the cause, but sources say they spotted HRH Princess Catherine, HRH Prince Philip and the Duchess of Cambridge, and HRH Princess Beatrice arriving at the Palace in the last hour.

Buckingham Palace denied comment.

Our hearts go out to the royal family in these trying times.

or

Alex and Henry finally have a break from school, royal and first son duties, and work, so they hightail it to Nowhere, Colorado for a much needed vacation. Only problem? There is no service whatsoever, and the Queen has fallen mysteriously ill in the meantime.

-

title proudly from billy joel's 'we didn't start the fire'

also on ao3

-

"We are going to be totally unreachable," Alex explains. "No phones, no laptops, no Shaan, nothing."

Nora rolls her eyes, but Alex continues to look at her earnestly. This is no joking matter to him, she knows; the stars had finally aligned so that Alex's second semester of law school ended the week before Henry had a full week free from royal duties, and with nothing big planned between Kensington, the White House, and the shelters, they had decided to take a much needed vacation to a secluded cabin in Colorado where there was absolutely no service to speak of. The only possible way to communicate with them would be through secret service or PPOs, and even that would be sketchy. Which means she has heard his 'how to take care of the brownstone in our absence' lecture several times in the last hour. But it’s all worth it. Because they need a break.

"Yes, Alex, I know where you're going and what you're doing," Nora says slowly, as if to a toddler. "It's not like you haven't told me 50 times."

He wrinkled his nose at her. "C'mon, Nora-" he starts.

"I have house sat for you before," Nora says, hair bouncing as she shakes her head in annoyance. "And David's not even here this time! There's barely anything to watch."

"What about the plants-"

"Alex!" Henry shouts from the stairs of the plane, foot tapping impatiently. "It's time to go. Stop bothering Nora."

"I'm just making sure she doesn't burn the house down," Alex yells back, though he's smiling. "But seriously, don't burn the house down-"

"Go," she says and steers him by the shoulder toward the waiting aircraft, "or there's a very high chance of me killing you."

As they make their way to Henry, Nora pulls Alex's phone out of his back pocket and types in the password Alex doesn't know she knows.

"Hey-"

"Hush." He reaches out to take the phone back, but Nora holds it out in front of her so his little 5'8" arms can't reach it. Then, she quickly puts it on airplane mode, Henry chuckling behind them.

Alex makes an offended noise. "The plane won't even take off for another 10 minutes!"

"And I just did you a huge favor," Nora counters, and she knows she's right.

"Yes, thank you, Nora." A look up shows Henry doing the same thing. "Tell Nora thank you, Alex."

Alex heaves a sigh. "Thank you, Nora."

There's a 92% chance of him actually being grateful.

Finally, he sends her one last grin before finally going up the stairs and entering the plane with Henry, and she watches idly as attendants get it ready for takeoff.

Ten minutes later, the plane is rolling down the airstrip, blowing Nora's curls all around her face.

Her phone dings. It's a text from June.

hottest month ❤️: check the news right now

Not a second later, there's a flood of notifications, all under the key words 'Queen Mary' and 'royal family.' Hands shaking, she clicks on one.

Buckingham Palace silent amid reports of sick Queen

Reports came in early this morning of Queen Mary falling suddenly ill overnight. Authorities have yet to determine the cause, but sources say they spotted HRH Princess Catherine, HRH Prince Philip and the Duchess of Cambridge, and HRH Princess Beatrice arriving at the Palace in the last hour.

Buckingham Palace denied comment.

Our hearts go out to the royal family in these trying times.

There are at least a dozen others just like it, all of them which Nora reads word for word. Within minutes, she's accepting a call from June.

"What the hell," she says without waiting for the other girl.

Fortunately, June is used to it. "Yeah, I know. The story just broke, like, a minute ago. Please tell me Alex and Henry are still on the ground?"

With a dawning horror, Nora raises her head to the sky and sees nothing but clouds in every direction.

She presses the phone back to her ear. "I've got some bad news."

"Shit." There's a rustling on the other side of the phone. "Mom wants everyone at the Residence."

And, okay, that's kinda weird. There's no actual reason anyone but Ellen needs to do anything beyond a sympathetic Twitter post (except Henry, obviously, who is probably expected at Buckingham Palace any time now).

Which means- "She thinks there's foul play, doesn't she?" The words aren't even all the way out of her mouth before Nora's fingers are itching for a computer so she can hack her way through this problem.

June sighs. "She said not to panic, but because of how abrupt it was and the current political climate in the UK, there's a possibility it's not natural."

A group of leaves blows through the airstrip. "And because of our ties to the royal family-"

"She's afraid we could be next," June finishes, tone grim. "The good news is, so many of our policies are in direct conflict with Mary's that if it is dirty, we may be in the clear."

"That's a good theory, especially considering her last endorsement." It's well known that the Queen's most recent focus was a Tory immigration bill the likes of which the UK has never seen.

"Analysis?"

Nora thinks for a moment. "36% chance of an assassination attempt on the Queen, 23% chance of an assassination plot on the rest of us."

June hums. "That low on the Queen?"

A laugh bubbles out of Nora's throat. "She is very old, babe. What does this mean for Alex and Henry?"

"Hang on, I'm pulling up to the airstrip."

A second later, a black SUV pulls around the corner, and Nora hangs up the phone as June climbs out.

She frowns, loose bun bobbing in the breeze. "You hung up on me."

Her UT hoodie and old jeans fit nicely with Nora's Claremont-Holleran sweatshirt and black leggings with holes in the knees. Neither of them thought anyone would have to see them today.

"Hello to you, too," Nora answers. "What's happening?"

"We're gonna fly to D.C.," is all June says.

"And the boys?"

She scratched her neck uncertainly. "I don't know. No one can get a hold of them."

"No one can get a hold of them, or they're ignoring attempts at communication?"

"No one can get a hold of them. Calls aren't going through to them or Cash." June looks more and more uneasy as the conversation goes on, and Nora wishes she had any words of reassurance.

"Shit." They hadn't wanted to take a ton of security on the off chance the media figured out what was going on. That idea wasn't looking too good anymore. "Who all knows where they are?"

June straightens, probably already having thought of this herself. "Me, you, Pez, Bea, the parents, Zahra and Shaan, Rafael, and the security teams. Not even the Queen knows."

"Well," Nora starts, "if someone really is trying to kill us, they may be safer in nowhere, Colorado."

June sighs, and . "I hope so."

-

Alex doesn't even make it 15 minutes into the flight before he starts feeling the effects of not using his phone, which is weird because he has been on flights before where he can't use his phone. It's probably just the knowledge that he won't be able to use it when they land. Or when they get to the cabin. Or for the next four days.

But it's okay. This is what he wanted. He left his laptop at home of his own volition.

The sound of a page turning distracts him from his thoughts.

Henry has one hand buried in David's fur where the dog naps at his side and is reading a book from the truly giant stack he brought - Sense and Sensibility, he thinks - and has a pleasant little smile on his face. It's so cute that Alex snaps a photo.

Henry looks up at the shutter sound. "Can I help you?"

Alex grins at him. "You look good, babe."

"Well." He laughs when Henry's ears turn red. "Is that all, then?"

"Yeah, babe, you can go back to your book."

A few more minutes pass with only the sound of Henry's page turning and Cash's crossword puzzle, and with nothing to do but stare out the window, Alex realizes he seriously needs to pick up some hobbies.

At some point, he finds a pen on the table between him and Henry and starts clicking it against the table to see how high it will go.

The answer? Pretty damn high.

"Alex!" Henry exclaims, squirming and upsetting David as Alex's pen hits him in the chest. "Can you really not occupy yourself for a little bit?"

"Sorry, babe." He's not sorry.

Henry throws the pen at him. "Didn't you bring something to do?"

"Yeah." He brought several things to do: Michelle Obama's biography, a complete guide to the political references in Parks and Rec, and, because he couldn't resist work, a speech June wanted him to look over for an event he was heading for Mom in July.

"Then why don't you do that?" Henry's left eyebrow is approaching the ceiling.

"I don't know! I just don't feel like it." Yes, he is aware he sounds ridiculous.

Henry closes his book and puts it down next to him. Oh, shit. "Alex, you have been on longer flights than this without your phone. What is going on?"

"I don't know, I just have a weird feeling that something happened," he says. It's hard to explain.

"Darling, if anything important happens, someone will contact Cash through comms."

Objectively, he knew that, but, "I don't know what to tell you, I just have a weird feeling." He makes grabby hands. "I need to check the news. I need my phone."

Henry slaps his hands away. "That's called an addiction, babe."

Alex throws the pen at him.

-

There's a car waiting for them when they land in D.C., and in no time, they're pulling up to the White House.

As they walk into the Residence, June pulls out her phone. "Bea still hasn't texted me back, and Pez says it's radio silence on his side. Alex and Henry are still unreachable."

Bea nods. "Well, their flight isn't even half over, and Buckingham is probably under lock and key."

June supposes that makes sense, though it doesn't do much to reassure her. Of course her little brother would be unreachable now, of all times, when there might be an assassination plot. Dramatic shit.

The white tiles pass under their feet quickly until they hear the sound of heels clicking, and Zahra rounds a corner straight into them.

She waves them farther into the hallway. "Come on, everyone's in the sitting room."

June scrunches her face scrunch up in confusion. "Everyone?"

"Yes, everyone except your brother and his boyfriend are here because someone might be trying to kill you. Keep moving."

June looks at Nora, alarmed. "I thought that was just a theory."

She is not ready to face an assassination this early in life.

"Your mother is the first female president. There are always threats to your life. It's when the threats start connecting to real events when we actually take notice." Zahra doesn't slow down throughout her little speech, and June has to admit she has a point.

Finally, they round a corner and reach a sitting room, still overly white like the rest of the building. Blue couches and armchairs spread out across the room, and a light brown coffee table sits in the middle of it all. Her dad, Rafael Luna, and Amy are seated in two of the armchairs while her mom and Leo share a couch. With Congress in session, she supposed they all had less travel time.

The room is quiet. Too quiet.

Everyone looks up when they enter, and June unsticks her tongue from the room of her mouth. "What do we know?"

Ellen stands, looking thankful to not have to break the uncomfortable silence for once. "Queen Mary fell sick some time around yesterday evening. Catherine, Bea, Philip, and Martha are all at Buckingham Palace as of this morning. There has been no attempt at communication, and they are not taking my calls. Shaan-" June recalls that Shaan and Zahra were going to spend the weekend off together while the boys were in Colorado so he must be somewhere in the Residence "-is currently trying to get ahold of someone on their end." She pauses, taking a breath. "As of right now, poisoning has not been ruled out as a possibility."

June sucks in a breath, even though it's all stuff she already knew. "And Alex and Henry?"

Ellen clasps her hands in front of her and purses her lips. "No answer. And before you ask, no one can reach Cash either."

Next to her, Nora snorts. "Sounds about right."

That really breaks the tension. Everyone starts laughing, even Zahra, because it really is such a typical Alex thing to do, cause an uproar in the midst of an international crisis and not even be there for it. This is how Shaan finds them a couple minutes later.

Unfortunately, that makes them sober very quickly.

"Well?" Ellen asks, voice surprisingly strong.

Shaan clears his throat. "I was able to get in contact with the head of security at Buckingham Palace. She informed me that while there is no concrete reason to believe Her Majesty has been poisoned, there are some extenuating circumstances that make the situation suspicious. Increased threats immediately before her sudden illness, things breaking around the Palace, et cetera, all aligning with Her Majesty's newest controversial policy announcement."

Oscar raises an eyebrow. "What's the verdict then? Are we safe?"

Shaan looks stricken, and Amy stands. "Because we don't have a good picture of the whole situation, I think it would be best if everyone were to remain here."

Again, the age old question. "And Alex and Henry?"

"I see no reason to cut their vacation short since there's only suspicion. Besides, if something really is going on-"

"They're probably safest in bumfuck, Colorado, where nobody knows they are," Nora finishes.

Amy nods. "Exactly."

Something else occurs to June. "What about the Queen? Is there any news on her?" Not that she particularly cares either way, but if it really ends up that she was poisoned, it'll only make her a martyr, and June will need to start working on some pieces to negate that load of shit.

Shaan hesitates. Bad news? Good news? She can't tell without knowing how he feels about Her Majesty. "Well, that is the other thing." June steels herself. "The head of security wasn't positive, but it seems the Queen is taking a turn for the worst."

June braces herself. (Or does she see a glimmer of hope?)

"They don't expect her to make it through the weekend."

#firstprince #rwrb #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #fanfic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fanfic #ao3 link #my fic #my writing #my fanfic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry and alex #henry x alex #alex x henry #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #fluff #angst #humor #alex and henry #nora holleran #june claremont diaz

[lilyswh0re]

it’s nice to have a (girl)friend - robin buckley

date: june 16, 2022

summary: robin’s a good “friend”

note: y/n is a fem bc robin is a lesbian but race and appearance isn’t mentioned. y/n uses she/her. this takes place the school year before season 3 and during season 3

warnings: nothing but fluff bc wlw/sapphics deserve media that isn’t centered around suffering and homophobia 🫶

a/n: ITS PRIDE MONTH AND I SHOULD HAVE A GF RN. also i think the gif is vvvv cute

tags: @we-stan-evie-frye @ghostofscarley @loverssfevers @limerenze

the air was crisp against your skin. you had dropped your gloves somewhere along the way to the bus stop in the morning and the indiana winter wasn’t very forgiving. “want mine?” robin asks.

“no, robin, it’s cold.”

she slips off one of hers and slips it onto your own hand, “compromise.” she smiles, lingering on your wrist. subtle touches like those warmed your heart. robin tugs on your coat sleeve, covering your exposed wrist.

“wanna hang out?” you ask, “i have my place to myself today.”

“yea, sounds like fun.” you lead her to your bus.

it’s stuffy in there with everyone’s coats and slippery boots.

“i forgot how much i hate your bus,” robin laughed lowly. hers happens to be more empty and have less band geeks with their bulky cases.

“it’s only fair, we always go to your house. i got a nintendo with a bunch of games. you can use it first.”

you were rambling about your plans once you arrived. only stopping when you feel robin’s hand in your pocket. she withdrew it with a downturnt smile.

uncrumpling the paper was a drawing of a flower inside a heart vase; written in it was: you look very pretty.

“i meant to give that to you in english.”

the butterflies were overwhelming. robin was your first almost girlfriend (almost because she hadn’t asked you out yet, and you were to nervous to ask her).

•••

school finally let out, the humidity was agonizing and the sun left anything that absorbed heat, sizzling. unfortunately, robin’s roof was black, which burned the back of your thighs. the temperature only started going down as the sun set, leaving a trail of pinks in her wake.

“is harrington going to replace me?”

robin tensed up at the mention of his name. you were only joking though. “harrington is such a doofus. no brain cells, all hair. i think all the hairspray killed them.” she sent you into a fit of laughter, almost causing you to roll off the roof.

she grinned as she gripped your hand to keep you stable. the sweatiness of her palms hushed your laugh in an instant. gasping for air, you lay closer to her.

the sun was done sinking at this point.

“do we have to get off any time soon?” your head rolled towards her, only to see that she was already looking at you.

“nah, no curfew. but i do have work tomorrow.” you nodded, “you should come in with me.”

“sure.” the apples of your cheeks hurt from smiling.

•••

some couple had gotten married as you were cruising through downtown hawkin. you weren’t around the church to see them as the bells rang, announcing their life long union. you only saw the aftermath of the rice on the corner.

“in some cultures that means bad luck,” robin stated, “we shouldn’t throw rice, you know?”

“well babe, i guess we won’t throw rice.” robin’s cheeks were blazing red.

“yea…babe.”

“let’s go home.”

robin kicks off on her bike, leading you home.

—————————————————————————————————————————

after reading note: yes i feminized the sun, suck it up 🫶 the sun and moon are sapphics, it’s a lesbian relationship. also i didn’t know how to write the final verse 💔

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #stranger things #robin buckley fluff

[echoe-back-from-the-void]

Logan x M/Reader

Mutation: Necromancy

I brushed my short hair behind my ear as I listened avidly to the lady beside me as she talked animatedly about the garden as part of her ongoing tour to show me around. Today would be my first day starting classes since I arrived at Xavier's school for gifted children.

"My husband, bless his soul, planted these rose bushes. It was in the middle of June when the first owners had moved in. We were younger then." She said smiling brightly.

I laughed into my hand as I ducked my head. "Tell me more, please?" I said in a whisper.

"Tell us more! Tell us more!" A little girl said as she jumped to hang off the woman's arm.

"Jane don't pull on people, it's impolite." I scolded the child quietly.

The little girl turned to me and with as much sass as a seven year old could manage she said, "she's not a person, she's dead, like me!" The girl said bluntly and I snorted before patting her head.

"Manners are important—"

"—even for the dead. I know I know." The girl said bouncing her head as she finished my statement. She said the words like they had been said a thousand times before. They had because I've known Jane since I was a child, when my mutation first started. It has been many years since then.

"Well, have I told you about..." she said and soon we stopped to sit beside the fountain and listen to her tell us more stories.

*ring ring*

"That's the bell dear's, off to class with you." The old maid said sweetly.

"But I Wanna hear moreee." Jane whined, kicking her feet.

I put my hand on her head and she looked up at me. Then in a conspiratorial whisper I said, "you don't have to come to classes, miss rose might like your company. And you don't want to go to math class anyway, do you?" I teased.

Jane stuck her tongue out in disgust before turning to the lady. "Can I stay with you while big brother goes to classes."

I blushed. It's not the first time Jane has called me that but it's always embarrassing when she tells other dead people so proudly.

I went to class with some apprehension, it was strange to even be remotely removed from Jane, but I pushed on in favor of fitting in. At least I tried, until rumors began and then I was avoided by most the schools populace. The only ones not to actively avoid me would be children younger then myself that would sit and hear me tell stories. I'd tell them that they were not my stories but stories told to me.

"Can you tell us another story?" A young boy asked me with wide eyes. "They're much better then anything we learn in history, or English."

"But they are history, not big roles in history but they happened. Have I told you the story about the soldier and the captain?"

"There's a teacher coming." Jane said pulling on my sleeve.

I frowned before turning to the kids around me. "Sorry kiddos. I just remember l have a test tomorrow." I lied, out the corner of my eye the teacher was closer. I think it was miss storm, a kind woman with a gentle temperament. She was nice to me even after the rumors persisted. Some teachers would eye me behind my back but I knew because Jane would always tell me. She was angry with them for how I was treated.

The kids whined before dispersing back to other activities while I stood and dusted my pants. Jane held the corner of my sleeve as we approached the teacher.

"Good evening miss storm" I said softly making her smile.

"Hello Alexander, telling stories?" She asked.

"Always, I like telling their stories, otherwise they've died without anyone to remember them."

"That's thoughtful." She said in cheerful voice.

I smiled and pet Jane's hair, "everyone's story deserves to be told someday."

"Would you tell us yours?" She asked.

I flinched before covering it by smiling brightly, "not today miss storm, maybe soon." I shrugged my shoulders for emphasis.

"The Professor knows nothing about you, which means us teachers know even less. Some of us have a hard time letting you stay here, you don't make it easier. If you could just tell us why you were there then we can help you better." She persuaded.

Jane pulled on my sleeve making her turn to me. "We gotta tell her something. Or it will just get worse. They'll send us back. The man in glasses was very angry about us." She then hid her head in my side as she trembled. My arm moved from her head to her shoulder as I pulled her closer.

"Okay miss storm, your professor may ask three questions."

Her eyes turned white before she came back to herself. "What is your full name? Why were you in the Psychiatric hospital? Are you a harm to yourself or others?"

I chuffed a laugh and dipped my head. "Not goin easy on me? My full name is Alexander Monroe Grant. I stayed in the hospital," I paused to roll my tongue over my teeth, "for many years. I have never harmed another person or mutant intentionally. And as you've seen I can be pretty clumsy." I scratched my neck and ducked my head further with a smile.

"Thank you, Alexander. Dinner will be at five please come to eat this time."

"Yes ma'am." I said politely while turning to walk away.

"You lied." Jane accused but couldn't tamper her own smile. "That was impolite." She said cheekily.

"Which time?" I whispered picking her up to set on my shoulder.

"Both. But why?" She asked wrapping an arm around my neck.

"Freedom without limits. They'll know everything eventually. There is only so much time. We could run, they would never find us?" I offered.

"No. I think we'll like it here." Jane said hugging my neck. "Let's go, I wanna see miss rose!" Jane giggled.

"As you wish!" I said bowing to where she almost fell off my shoulders before running off to the garden.

~~

"Logan would you stop by the mansion on your next visit. There is a student I think would interest you."

"Alright Professor." A gruff voice responded. Cigar smoke rose from the man's lips as he spoke. He burned the cigar out on his hand and mounted his bike. Setting off for Xavier's school for gifted children.

Personally he didn't know why he agreed so quickly but something pushed him to drive faster.

~~

It had been another week at the school. For the last four days a man in leather has watched me in between classes. Anytime I left the building he was there a distance away to watch me.

"Are you sure he's not here to kill us?" Jane asked for the hundredth time causing me to giggle.

"Not today." I said leaning back to lay on the grass. Jane curled up beside me, head on my shoulder. To anyone else the grass would look flattened but they wouldn't see the sleepy child.

"Rock or Blues?" I asked her pulling out an old beaten handheld radio. I slipped the headphones around my neck so we could both hear.

"Rock!" She said enthusiastically.

Soon the soft sounds of early rock and roll began to play with intermittent commercials. I let myself dance between sleep and awareness as we listened to buddy holly. The sun that warmed us was blocked by a tall shadow and I opened my eyes to glance the leather clad man.

"Howlett." I greeted him with sleepy doe eyes.

"And how would you know that?" He asked curiously.

"People talk." I say in a run around way.

"Listen kid," he begins and I rise to a sitting position knowing this will be a good conversation.

"Big brother." Jane yawns, waking up from my movement.

"Go back to sleep Jane." I whisper and she nodded laying in my lap as she continued to snooze. "I'm sorry my sister is napping." I say quietly.

"Uh huh." Logan responds sarcastically but I can see his curiosity is piqued. "Listen kid, the Professor looked into it and the only Alexander Monroe at that hospital was administered in 53' so tell it to me straight, who are you?" He asked.

I leaned back on my hands. "So this is why the Professor summoned you. A lie detector test because he can't get inside my head." I said softly. I tapped Jane awake, "we're being interrogated." I told her and her dazed sleepy expression became hyper aware.

"Kid, I want answers."

"Imortalis, the immortal." I rolled my hand toward him before holding my hand to myself and repeating the words. His face dawned an understanding and I continued to speak. "I am Alexander Monroe Grant, I was born sometime before your professor, I don't look it do I?" I joked giving him a dopey smile. "My parents at the time were worried I was schizophrenic, I would talk to people that weren't there and know things I shouldn't. They were scared so they sent me away. My mutation allows me to see the dead, they talk to me and I interact with them. I was given meds, electroshock therapy with no change. Eventually my doctors forgot me and my treatments stopped. I was just a faceless patient and was easily ignored."

"And you didn't leave?"

"Would you leave a safe heaven for somewhere different." I sneered and showed my first sign of anger. "Here I'm called crazy around my peers when I'm no different then them. There I was part of community and was never belittled for my ability." I tilted my head mockingly. "Strange, how judgmental people with mutations can be toward their own." I nodded glad to make my point known before slipping into shadows and landing in the forest surrounding the school.

~flashback to Logan seeing Alexander the first time.

The Professor had given me the rundown on what they knew about the kid and his medical files from the hospital. I felt myself tense with phantom pain as I read the words Electroshock therapy on his records. The bell rang for lunch and I expected the kid to eat lunch but storm told me he usually sat outside so I stood against the building as I observed him.

He was talking to some unseen figure, most likely a child based on the way he treated it. The wind swept through his hair and carried his scent toward me. Smoke and something sweet. It was a pleasant smell that I have never smelled in combination before but strangely fit him.

I wanted to approach closer but decided to observe for now. The sound of his voice was pleasant too. (Logan low key feeling attracted to someone he hasn't even met.)

-the day Logan does talk to him.

Scott had been raving about Alexander again, calling him an unstable threat, I asked what his beef was and he said the kid was inherently evil. But from my observations there was nothing evil about him. He has a sunny disposition with a soft voice that drew me in no matter how distant I heard it.

A soft giggle drew my attention back to him, but what had me moving was the sounds of old rock he began to play. Soon I was standing above him...he blinked his doe eyes and I felt entranced.

We talked and I was surprised he was immortal. The way he spoke about his family gave me violent urges but I stowed them to listen further and not scare him off. Then he said something that surprised me.

"Strange, how judgmental people with mutations can be toward their own" he said referencing the constant belittlement he faced among children I now know are much younger than him. Then he slipped into shadows and disappeared from my sight.

"Professor, was that enough information to let him stay?"

"Yes Logan, please find him and bring him back." A voice answered back in Logan's head.

~~

A game of cat and mouse ensued, Logan would hunt Alexander in the woods and the second he found them, Alexander would slip into shadows again.

"Cmon, kid, gotta eat sometime." Logan bargained.

"I'm not a kid." Alexander then paused and held onto the side of the tree he hid behind. "I haven't needed to eat since I was a child." The male said bitterly.

"Then at least come back. Storm misses you." Logan persuaded.

"I know. But everyone else wants me gone. Just because I can see and interact with the dead doesn't mean I'm a killer or evil."

"I get that, but you can't keep camping out here."

"But don't you like this game, Jane said the man with glasses likes to be mean to you." I whispered knowing he heard perfectly.

"That's adult business and I'll deal with it eventually. So leave it be kid."

I felt blood rush to my face as I slipped into shadows before reappearing in front of him. "I'm not a kid." I pouted.

"Yeah, but your companion is." Logan said back. He grinned knowing he was right.

"It's Not like I send her to gather information, she just does it on her own. You try controlling a forever five year old." I bite back before crossing my arms and turning to walk away. A hand on my shoulder stopped me and my head dropped to my chest. "Your gonna make us go back?"

"One more week." Logan offered.

I turned to him in excitement and nodded. I couldn't stop myself from hopping foot to foot.

I love being outside but when I was locked up I was barely given recess time. Then with the school I couldn't be outside without being belittled by peers.

"Will you count to ten?" I ask tilting my head.

Logan smiled before spinning me around, "ten, nine..."

I bolted into the other direction. Slipping into shadows here or there to confuse him.

The next week we grew closer, I didn't mind how he'd pick me up when he found me or pet my hair when we talked. It was different then how I treated Jane. The way he treated me made my rib cage home to a dozen butterflies. It didn't help that I once walked in on him washing in a river. He was waded into the water with pants on as he washed his chest and hair. I bit my lip before turning away from the hormone inducing sight.

"Hey! Waters fine, no leeches or anything. We've been out here and you haven't showered." Logan yelled at my retreating back.

"I'm I'm good!" I stuttered. A short scream left my lips as I was picked up and thrown into the river.

I swam to the surface before staring wide eyed at Logan. "Uncool." I said brushing my hair back from falling in my eyes. "I'll catch my death in this water." I hissed unpleasantly as I dragged myself onto the shore when I took of my shirt and began to ring it out. "Jane stop poking me!" I whine as I shivered from the cold breeze.

Logan came up beside me with a wide grin, unfazed by the water dripping from his hair and down his torso.

"Not all of us have super heated bodies." I say spitefully as I ring my shirt out again. Logan chuckles and rubs his hands up and down my shoulders to warm me up while pulling me close to his chest.

"I can share." He teases and I blush before hiding my face in his chest. Soft hair like fur covers his chest and happy trail. His fingers dance along my back as he purrs. Do wolverines purr? He then nuzzles his face into my neck. The 5'o clock shadow scratches my neck and makes me laugh.

He backs up so I can see his face, softly he says. "Your real pretty when you laugh like that."

I chuff disbelieving that he even said that and he puts his knuckles under my chin, tilting my face toward him. "I mean it, your pretty. Was something about you the first time I saw you that had me entranced." He admits sheepishly and ducks his head so his nose bumps against mine. "I'm kinda glad you ran away, gave me a chance to chase ya." He says huskily, his fingers move from my back to my hips as he begins to stroke them softly. His hands radiate heat like two suns and I lean into him more. My hands going to rest on his chest making him smile. He shivers when my fingers begin to play with his chest hair.

His whole body shows impatience and he keeps glancing at my lips but instead he takes it slow. Leaving a gentle peck on my nose, check and then the corner of my lips. When he does kiss me it's not rushed or messy. It's soft and I savor the feeling of lips on mine. When we pull away it leaves me breathless and I lean even more against him as he become the only thing holding me up.

"That good huh?" He says teasingly and I blush.

"Not really, I think I need a another one."

Logan grins and dips me before kissing me again and again.

#logan howlett #x men #logan x reader #romance #x men imagine #fluff #immortal whumpee

[lightofthemoonglow]

running up that hill: part four

summary: finally reunited, but it's still not easy

series masterlist

contains: smut

note: it feels obvious, but i'm going to say it. they're speaking spanish for the most part during the Peru segments unless otherwise noted.

cowritten with @deviantdrkate

i. good god, let me give you my life (June 2000)

It’s nearly summer, the time of year when modest cardigans and thick pantyhose are discarded in favor of short sleeves and bare legs. Elena had been feeling bold that morning, so she had chosen to wear short sleeves and a skirt that showed off a bit more leg than usual, though her legs are still clad in thigh-highs, which she knows Herbert will appreciate. Less fumbling, they could get down to business quicker.

Though it seems like there isn’t going to be any ‘business’ today.

“Vee, what’s going on? I get to the chapel and apparently West has been reassigned?”

“The new doctor requested him specifically.” Vanessa offers Elena a mint, which she declines. “He’s kind of cute. Fresh out of med school, apparently. I guess he was highly recommended, so they’re giving him whatever he wants.”

Elena sighs and her hand goes to run through her hair, but her fingers meet the cloth of her veil instead. “I don’t care how cute he is. He can’t just poach my assistant and expect me to be fine with it. And not that it matters, but if he’s just out of med school, he’s a bit too young for my tastes. If I had any.”

The way Vanessa’s eyes twinkle make it clear what she’s thinking, because Vanessa has hinted that she knows something more is going on. She’s not a threat and maybe she’d be a safe person to tell. But Elena knows she needs to be careful and that means not telling a soul, not even her friend. By now, she’s become an expert liar. At least in one area. It just rolls off her tongue and the bitter aftertaste that used to follow isn’t even there anymore.

“Let’s set aside the subject of eye candy. Tell me about school,” Elena says as they near the part of the infirmary where Herbert is.

“It’s going great. Honestly, it’s a lot easier than I thought it would be. By this time next year, I’ll be…somewhere else.” Once she was an RN, rather than the LPN she was now, so many more doors would be open. Classes and work at the prison made for a full plate, but Vanessa had proved she could handle it. And with an actual doctor installed at the prison, things should only be easier. Assistant poaching aside, it’s a cause for celebration.

“That’s great!”

“Are you still going to throw a party to celebrate when you take your final vows?”

“That’s a few months away.” There’s a pause and Elena quickly fills the silence. “But probably, yes.”

Whenever she thinks about that day, it feels like the countdown to some unspecified disaster. Taking her final vows is supposed to be a good thing, she’s been working towards this for a long time. But deep down, it feels wrong. She knows why and she knows that she needs to back out.

But for what? A cruel voice in the back of her mind asks, taunting her with the truth. They don’t have a future, not for a long time. Such a long time away that it might as well not exist. What’s she supposed to do? Just wait for the next decade and a half, at the very least. For all she knew, the warden would find some reason to keep Herbert locked up for longer, and then their best years would be behind them. Or maybe he’d never get out and she would have wasted her entire life on waiting.

The sounds of chaos from down the hall jolts Elena out of her thoughts. There’s yelling, the guards are being whipped into a frenzy even before they open the door just as Elena and Vanessa arrive.

Moses isn’t himself. He’s practically snarling, trying to attack anyone who gets near him. Elena steps in front of Vanessa as the chaos gets too close to them, willing to shield her friend with her body if she had to.

It’s a whirlwind of madness and in the middle of it, her eyes meet Herbert’s and she just knows why this is happening.

--

Instead of going back to his cell, Herbert goes to the chapel, where he knows she will be waiting.

Elena just stares at him for a moment or two, the silence almost smothering them. She speaks first, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Moses died. Dr. Phillips had some of my reagent.”

“How-?”

Herbert explains the why and how, Elena’s expression going from curiosity to horror to understanding during his tale. It’s mostly things she’s heard before but something about having someone else who was actually there back then makes it feel so much more real.

“So you’re going to get back to your work, aren’t you?”

Though she’s not even sure why she’s asking, because she knows the answer. The work is a part of him, she knows that too. He’s a scientist, no matter what, above everything else. Even a man. And she will be at his side, even if only metaphorically, every step of the way. It’s what she had promised when she had told him that they would part and never be parted, that they would live lifetimes.

“Of course.” Herbert’s tone makes it clear what he thinks of her question. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this?”

“I know, I know. And I want you to but it’s just-“

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course.”

They’re nearly nose to nose, getting defensive over what would seem like nothing to an outsider. But there’s so much running under the surface, tension and fear coming forth to meet the very real possibility that all of this could change.

“I just…don’t want anything bad to happen.” Elena’s voice is tinged with the raw emotion that’s threatening take over.

“What could happen?”

“A lot of things! Like being thrown into super max for the rest of your life. And then I’d never see you again and that would be-“

Herbert doesn’t want to think about that. Or anything but the best possible outcome. So he kisses her instead, sealing his mouth over Elena’s, his tongue shoving its way into her mouth. Now is not the time to think of how it could all go wrong. His hands reach under her skirt, delighting in the feeling of her bare upper thighs, his fingers slipping into her underwear, unable to stop once he started.

“You have no idea what this means, but that’s alright,” he murmurs in her ear as he slips two fingers inside of her, slowly moving them, teasing her as his other hand undoes the first few buttons of her blouse. “This is an extraordinary thing, mein Liebling.” His teeth sink into her neck, breaking skin that would thankfully be hidden by her clothing once it was properly back on.

Seeing the reagent again, after so many years, makes him feel that fire that had burned so brightly when he had been at Miskatonic. That ideal future is closer than it had been this morning. But what matters most is having his work back, the prospect of being back in a lab after so many years making him go into a frenzy. His hands are working quickly, sloppily as the euphoria over finally getting the missing piece of himself back is channeled into the current activity.

It's lucky that Elena brought a bag in today because in Herbert’s frenzy to get her underwear off, he rips them to the point of ruin, tossing the fabric aside as if it were nothing. She’s never seen him like this before. He almost seems possessed, his movements frantic as he maneuvers her onto the floor, nearly tearing her skirt in his eagerness to be inside of her.

“It shouldn’t take long for me to produce a new batch. Once that happens, I’ll begin to integrate it with the new ideas I’ve come up with during my time here and after that…” The shifting of her hips cuts off what he’s about to say next, though Herbert doesn’t stop his movements, which are rough enough that there is going to be carpet burn all over her rear and the back of her thighs, which will pair nicely with the soreness she’ll be feeling later and the bruises in the shape of his fingers all over her thighs and hips.

“Are you sure?” Elena asks, lust nearly slurring her words.

“Yes. And when my work is complete, I want you to be the first.” The thrusts are slowing down, though his grip doesn’t loosen. “You deserve it.” He wants her to be the first recipient of what he sees as a gift. It’s the only way he can tell her just how much she means to him without actually saying those three words.

After all, you would only make someone you love immortal.

“What if I wind up like Moses?” Seeing what could happen makes the bottom of her stomach drop out and she looks at him, eyes wide with concern.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The rutting begins again, one of his hands moving up her body, stopping at the spot between her collarbones. “Nothing like that will ever happen to you. You will remain perfect.” The merciless rhythm is robbing her of words, but the way she’s looking at him says more than enough.

Those strong, rough fingers wrap around her throat, though there is no pressure. Not yet. Her hands are free, she can push him away. But instead, she reaches up and puts her hand on his, pressing down ever so slightly.

She trusts him more than he thought, and he nods, lightly applying pressure as he continues fucking her into the floor, nearly slamming her head into the pew they had somehow wound up near. “We’ll live lifetimes, you and I. It may take some time, but we will.”

The determination to live up to his promise makes him somehow go even faster, the hand not on her neck going to her clitoris, so she could find her pleasure before he does. Herbert is thinking of the future as his end nears, of more promises he can make. He pictures them outside of these walls, somewhere lush and vibrant, a place for them and no one else. As always, he must pull out and finish himself on her, rather than inside.

As his hands works his cock furiously, he thinks about being able to finish in her, of what could result from that. He knows what could happen, he’s seen the results in nearly every context possible. And yet, the mere idea of doing that to her, of giving her a piece of himself in a way, brings him over the edge, his spend splashing onto her skin as he thinks of her carrying his child.

It's an impulsive thought, brought on by the excitement over new possibilities in life.

But it manages to stick.

ii. can’t say i'm not alive (September 2003)

The sound of her fists slamming against the front door startles Herbert out of the daze he had been in ever since he had looked into the eyes that have haunted him awake and asleep for over three years. It hits him that he’d had her for a fraction of the time he’s been mourning her, but he’s quickly brought back to reality when she yells, demanding he hand over the child.

Herbert can’t deny it’s her. He memorized her face so long ago, spent so long dedicating himself to the act, that it’s engrained in his mind. He knows her face as well as his own, maybe even better. Her voice has been slipping away recently, but he still remembers enough to recognize it anywhere. It’s not logical, but it must be her.

“Open the door!” Elena is louder now, the rage building in her voice. So he opens the door.

This is not the reunion he had imagined, when he had indulged in fantasies of seeing her again. Herbert would never admit to how much he had wanted the previously impossible. He had thought about opening a door and her being on the other side. She would smile and say that she was home now. He wouldn’t ask where she had been, or why she had been gone, because there would be lifetimes left for questions.

But instead of a gentle embrace, Elena charges through the door the moment it opens, slamming her body into his. There’s barely any time for him to think about how he’d never thought of her being capable of such fury before she stills, staring down at the space between their bodies. In all the chaos, Herbert had forgotten about the needle in his pocket. It was a mild steroid, part of his work. He had been about to inject it into one of the iguanas in the basement, having found a moment to work while Johanna napped upstairs. The baby monitor on his workstation would have alerted him to her waking, but he’s not thinking about the child right now.

“What was in the needle?” Elena asks, her voice rather steady, considering the situation. It’s then that he realizes that she had been injected. The fact that it had been in the shoulder is of little comfort

“Just a mild steroid. It’s nothing dangerous.” Herbert forces himself to be composed as he steps back, inspecting her in a more clinical sense than he had ever had before. Her t-shirt’s thin fabric had allowed the needle to penetrate her skin, but the contents had been so mild that she has nothing to worry about in the long run.

“Why do you have that?” Elena asks, her hand going to her shoulder. It may be sore, he realizes and then she wobbles, suddenly unsteady on her feet. “And where is my daughter?”

“Johanna is upstairs. She was taking a nap, but the racket likely woke her up. I can go get her right now, if that is what you would like.” Herbert speaks carefully, every word measured, despite being on the verge of screaming one of his many questions into her face. “Mrs. Vidal, I insist that you have a seat. You may start to experience side effects of the injection soon.” It’s an intentional error on his part, he needs to find certain things out without asking directly.

“Miss. Not Mrs. I’m not married,” Elena says as she follows him into the kitchen, not taking the assistance he offers, even after she practically lurches across the floor to get into one of the chairs. “It’s just the two of us.”

A part of Herbert feels pleased at her statement. That is until the full implications of everything hit him all at once. The familiar elements in the toddler’s face had not been a product of his imagination. He had not been projecting his own musings about the daughter he had been trying to not think about for so long. There was no psychological issue. The girl is his offspring.

“I feel nauseous. Is this normal?” Elena asks, bringing Herbert out of his thoughts.

“That depends. Have you eaten recently?” The quick shake of her head gets a nod from him in return. “That is to be expected. And what medications are you on?” It’s a logical question, he would ask any other patient this. Though the next one is not, but he needs to truly know if he’s been replaced. “Are you on birth control?”

“Yes, to all of those. I take a birth control pill, it’s a generic monophasic one. As for my other meds, I take Zoloft daily and Xanax as needed. I don’t remember the exact dosages off the top of my head but if you really need to know, I can go get them.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Herbert says. “May I ask why you’re on the Zoloft and Xanax?”

“There was some…trouble a few months after my daughter was born. And honestly before. It’s a long story, and there are a lot of gaps in my memory, but to sum it all up, I came all the way from Massachusetts for a reason.” She tried to laugh, but the brief sound was hollow. It wasn’t funny, not to any of them. “And that is probably why I got so upset.”

Herbert was putting it together, his mind racing as it always did when he was finding an answer to a question that had been plaguing him. “It’s alright,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm. “You have every right to your feelings,” he adds, borrowing a phrase he’s heard Dan use several times. Before Elena can respond, she bends over, arms wrapped around her stomach. Herbert moves quickly, grabbing a bowl from under the sink. Nothing should come up, but he’s learned the value of keeping a bowl nearby for things like this. “Thank you,” Elena mumbles, setting the bowl on her lap.

Moving quickly, Herbert gets one of Dan’s granola bars out of the cabinet and hands it to her. “Eat this. Slowly. You need it.” Elena nods and unwraps it, which brings some sort of sensation to the pit of Herbert’s stomach. Even right now, with her slowly eating the granola bar and her expression one of her nervousness tinged with nausea, Herbert is entranced by her. He wants to push her hair behind her ears and rest his hand on her shoulder. The memories of the small intimacies they had shared start seeping back and he’s grateful for the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Dan asks, yawning as he walks into the kitchen. Herbert has no time to react before Dan sees Elena, stopping halfway into the room. “Herbert….who is this?”

“This is Elena Vidal, Johanna’s mother.” Herbert does his best to use his face to tell Dan to remain calm. This is a fragile moment, even he realizes this. It’s her, he knows this. And she’s right here, looking at the two of them questioningly. “Miss. Vidal, this is my colleague, Daniel Cain.”

There is not a flicker of recognition in her eyes as she stands to greet Dan, who thankfully looks more tired than anything else. Herbert knows that Dan will be bombarding him with questions once they’re alone, so he takes his time packing up Johanna’s things, though he leaves the stuffed bear that the girl loves so much. Dr. Mac will have to be separated from its owner for a while. He needs a reason to see them again. It’s the first step in his still forming plan.

Johanna eagerly runs to her mother when Herbert brings her downstairs. Elena refuses any help to carry her things back, and Herbert has to watch them go, staring at them from the window until they vanish from sight.

iii. maybe someday, I’ll be lucky (April 2000)

“I don’t see the point in engaging in this discussion.”

Elena just giggles at Herbert’s statement, wrinkling her nose a little. “That’s the idea. There is no point. It’s just for fun.” She lovingly runs a finger along his jaw, teasing him. Her legs are slung across his lap, it’s as close as they dare. The guard on duty is the one that often sleeps on the job, and it is lunchtime for most of the other inmates. They can be a little reckless, they can sit this closely. Her veil is on the floor, her hair is loose. For a moment, they feel almost…normal.

“I still fail to the see point in picking names for a child yet to be born.”

“It’s not set in stone. Come on, you never thought about it?”

“I never even considered having one until-.” He stops, realizing what he’s about to say. They try not to talk about the thing that hangs between them. Their lack of a real future. The look on her face makes him change course, hopefully distracting her. “I would not name a child after my parents. Their lack of any sort of impact on my life disqualifies them.”

Elena smiles sadly for a moment, cupping his jaw in her hand. “Then we’ll name none of our children after our parents. My parents already have enough children named after them.” She’s gained several new nieces and nephews since they had met and two had been named after her parents in some way. They would be fine if these hypothetical children didn’t bear their names.

A part of her needs to believe that there’s another world somewhere, a universe where this discussion isn’t so painful. There must be a place where they’re talking about this in their own home, the yellow house from her dreams, and they’re agreeing to wait several years before they start planning, but it would happen one day. There would be time.

The idea that they’re doomed no matter what is something she can’t take, not right now.

“The only person that I would bestow that honor on is Dr. Gruber.”

Upon hearing that, the smile on her face isn’t quite so sad anymore.

iv. come up to meet you (September 2003)

“Herbert, no. Let me do it.”

Of course, Dan’s protests are ignored, and Herbert continues his journey up the walkway. The bear is in hand, and he’s approaching the little house at the edge of town where his wife and child are residing. The fact that he had been able to wait several hours before going to return the stolen toy was a sign of his improved impulse control. Though stealing the bear in the first place basically negated that.

“I have to talk to her, Dan. You don’t-“

“If you say that I don’t understand…. dammit Herbert.” Dan drags his hand down his face, letting out a deep sigh. It would be hypocritical of him to stop his friend, not after what he had done to get Meg back. But there must be a better way to go about this than what Herbert is planning. He’s planning on the long game, it seems. Becoming a part of her life, waiting for her to remember. And if she doesn’t…. Dan doesn’t want to think about that. It feels wrong for Herbert to play this half-false role.

But all Herbert cares about is getting what he’s been wanting for years. He knows it would work, because it worked before. They had worked before, and they would work again. They had made vows and neither of them were the sort to take that sort of thing lightly. For once, answers could wait.

Maybe, as long as he has her back, Herbert would be content without answers. That’s the best Dan can hope for, and even that feels impossible.

Herbert knocks on the door, Dan hanging back a few feet, as if to stay out of a blast zone. Every worst-case scenario runs through his head in 90 or so seconds that it takes for Elena to come to the door. “Hey, I was just about to call you. I think my daughter left her…”

“Her bear.” Herbert holds up the stuffed animal, forcing his face to stay neutral as he takes in the sight of her. She’s changed her clothes, swapping the jeans and a t-shirt for a pair of shorts and a cutoff shirt that is high enough to reveal the scar on her abdomen. It’s raised, a tad crooked. The work of a butcher and in his anger, it takes Herbert a moment to realize that it’s a cesarean scar and that the same incompetents had delivered her daughter. His daughter.

Their daughter

“Thank you,” Elena says, taking the toy from him, their fingers brushing together. It brings him back to before, having to make do with brief touches because there were often eyes on them. “Do you have time to have some coffee? I just put on a pot.”

“We should-.” Dan starts to speak, but Herbert cuts him off, not even bothering to shoot him a glare.

“We have plenty of time.”

Nothing else matters, not right now. As he walks through the front door of her home, not even the work is relevant. Herbert’s eyes are fixed on Elena, taking in everything. He walks a little too close to her, watching the way her body moves from behind, silently marveling over the sight of her bare legs. It’s one of the small things that had been denied to them, among many other things. The sunlight catches in her hair and it’s another thing that’s new to him.

“Again, I have to apologize for my cousin. I think she just…panicked and did what she thought was best.” Elena glances at them over her shoulder, and Herbert shakes his head in response.

“Our goal here does include community outreach. And it was for the greater good. We thought that it would be best to allow your grandparents time to rest and recover without having to worry about taking care of a child. At their age, the flu is far more dangerous for them than it is for us.” Behind Herbert, Dan makes a face, as if he’s disagreeing with it. In his mind, there had been no ‘we’, this had been one of Herbert’s ideas and his idea alone. What was he supposed to do? Throw a toddler out on the streets?

But Elena doesn’t notice the look on Dan’s face, she’s only looking at Herbert. Dan wonders if they would even notice if he left.

“So where are you two from?” Elena asks as she pours out the coffee, Herbert noting that she takes it with cream and sugar, while he takes it black.

“Dan is from Washington, DC and I’m from Canada. But both of us attended medical school in Massachusetts-“ Herbert is cut off by the sound of Elena suddenly setting her mug on the table, her hands trembling in excitement.

“Really? Because that’s where I’m from! Born and raised!” Elena’s face lights up and she switches to English, her accent stronger as she speaks in her native tongue. “Did you go to Miskatonic?”

“No. Harvard.” Dan kicks Herbert under the table, knowing that he needed to lie. It makes him part of the whole…thing that is surely going to come from this, but he can’t let Herbert blow up their lives here. It’s been fine over the last few years, he’s content. But he can’t let Herbert take control of the situation, not when there’s a child involved.

“Still a great school. I’m biased, because I grew up in Arkham. But it’s not far, so we were probably practically neighbors.” Elena’s eyes are on Herbert and he feels that warmth that came with being in her orbit for the first time in a long time.

#my writing #herbert west x oc #sorry about the very end i was going through it at the time of writing

[scotianostra]

12th July 1834 saw the death in Hawaii of Botanist, David Douglas.

David Douglas, a Scottish was born June 25th, 1799 at Scone Douglas to a lower class family., he managed to acquire a modest amount of schooling - he learned Latin, for example - but his real love was the outdoors: animals, birds, and especially, plants and gardens. He managed to get a job as an assistant gardener at Scone Palace, and then he was fortunate to spend several years at the Glasgow Botanic Garden, where he arrived the same year as their new professor of botany, William Hooker, who would later become the first director of Kew Gardens in London. Hooker was only 35 years old when he met young Douglas, and the two hit it off extremely well, which means Douglas learned a great deal about plant identification and taxonomy.

About this time (1823), the Horticultural Society of London, founded in 1804, was looking to sponsor a collector who would go to some far-flung place, collect seeds, cuttings, and sprouts, and bring them back to be grown in the Society's gardens at Chiswick. It just so happened that the man hired to construct the gardens at Chiswick House in west London had previously rebuilt the gardens at Scone Palace, and he offered his opinion: pry that Douglas fellow away from Glasgow and send him out to collect plants. Hooker chimed in from Glasgow and agreed whole-heartedly. And so it came to pass. Douglas was first sent to the east coast of the United States, and although that trip was short - less than a year - it was extremely productive, yielding new varieties of apples and pears and plums (the Washington plum was a bit hit among London fructivores), and gardeners raved about the accomplishments of young Douglas.

In 1824, Douglas was sent out once more, this time to the Pacific Northwest, and this extended venture was a hundred times more productive, resulting in a great change in the landscape of Great Britain. Travelling with factors from the Hudson Bay Company, Douglas ascended the Columbia River, crossed the Continental Divide, climbed a few fourteeners along the way, and identified and collected over 200 new plants. He was the first Englishman to see and bring back cones of the Sugar Pine, the Lodgepole Piine, the Ponderosa Pine, and, of course, the Douglas-fir, all of which would soon be growing in English gardens and on Scottish estates within a year of his return in 1827. A number of Douglas-firs were planted on the grounds of Scone Palace, which makes them nearly 190 years old today (second image), and while they aren't quite as stately as some of the Douglas-firs in the Pacific Northwest, which can top 300 feet, several Douglas-firs in England exceed 200 feet in height, including the Stronardon Douglas-Fir, which is the tallest tree in the British Isles (third image).

Douglas made one more trip to the Northwest, with a most unhappy outcome. He visited Hawaii and became the second European to climb Mauna Loa. However, on his way to climb Mauna Kea, he fell into a wild cattle pit trap that was unfortunately already occupied, and he was trampled to death by an angry bull. Suspicions of foul play arose but were never confirmed. He was only 35 years old at the time of his death. But he lives on in his tree, which incidentally is not a true fir, which is why it is spelled with a hyphen.

Three monuments to Douglas that I discovered, ne is the David Douglas Pavilion at Scone Palace, which is constructed of wood from Douglas-firs grown on the estate. The second is a bust of Douglas at the VanDusen Botanical Garden in Vancouver, British Columbia. The third monument is a cairn in Hawaii at the site of Douglas’s death.

#scotland #scottish #botanist #traveller #horticulture #history

[ziodyne-amax]

The doll opened up, releasing a gust of wind Kotone's way, though she managed to stay on her feet. It was difficult enough to fight this thing alone, could it stop with the elemental attacks?

Orpheus sent a wave of fire at the beast, though it didn't seem to do much. Made sense. Clay doll, fire wouldn't really affect it. Then again, if it was made of clay, hitting it with a blunt object would damage it quite a bit. Orpheus grabbed his lyre, bashing the nesting doll over the head. The top cracked, and Kotone jumped for joy. Finally, some progress.

The doll didn't seem too happy about that, though. It opened again, releasing a jolt of electricity. Kotone just barely dodged it. Hitting it again with the lyre, the top shell had a crack drive down the entire body. One more hit should do it... There!

Orpheus' last hit split the shell in two, and it fell away, revealing a smaller doll underneath. This looked to not be made of clay, but of wood. Perfect, she could torch i--

The design... She recognized that design.

Painted on the wooden doll was her own face, her hair left long behind it. The mural of herself was wearing a dark sports jersey. She... remembered this. From her first year in high school. She hardly ever showed up, and when she did it wasn't like she did much, but...

The Doll opened up again, releasing a forceful wave that almost knocked Kotone to the ground. That... that hurt.

She called out for Orpheus again, burning the wood down. It didn't seem to be nearly as resistant as the clay doll was, going up in flames, revealing another layer underneath. A metal doll... Or rather... The doll itself was made of wood, but it was surrounded by metal bars. She recognized these... This was from her second foster home. She had broken into a Junes with friends, but she was the only one that got caught... It never got actually put on her record, in no small part because she told the officer everything, but she never stayed at a place for more than a week after that.

The doll apparently had too much weight on it to open, as it instead opted to spin, attempting to hit Kotone with the metal bars. One landed a good hit, knocking her backwards, but she noticed... Those were being held by ropes.

The next spin came, and Kotone raised her nagitana up, severing the rope holding the bars to the doll. With them fallen down, the doll seemed to open up on its own, revealing the smallest doll in the bunch.

This smallest doll, the fourth one, was just... her. No design, no trappings of any moment of life... just... her. The Shadow that she had first seen when arriving here. Why did it not have its own doll?

"..."

Kotone stared the Shadow in the eyes... That rage was gone.

"Nothing left to say, huh?"

The Shadow didn't respond. It simply... stood there.

Minako approached, dropping the Nagitana to the side.

"No need. You don't need to."

The Shadow jostled a bit at the sound of metal hitting the ground. It didn't seem to have expected that.

"Damn it... Hard to deny you when you just spent the fight with me-centric designs. You really weren't kidding when you said that, huh?"

"... I hoped you'd see that... One day. It's a shame it's... too late..."

"Not too late, Minako. Never too late." She patted her shadow on the back, rubbing her shoulder slightly. The Shadow seemed surprised about this.

"What do you... mean?"

"And here you were saying you knew everything." Minako laughed slightly. "We've been traveling with Ren for what, three months now? And you haven't picked up on his tentative relationship with being alive?"

"He's... different. You have to realize that, right?"

"Well. Thankfully I can say you're wrong on that without denying myself. There's nothing different about him from us. You forgot about a little detail."

"Hm?"

"You remember the 24th of December, 2016? You remember watching that fight? The stone cracked. We aren't dead. We're more alive than we have been in over a decade. Why we ended up in Johto, I can't tell you, but. It doesn't matter. We're alive now. And I've got a feeling that we will be for a while."

Minako patted her Shadow on the back, standing up. "Come on, big girl. We've got a world to face. Well. I do, but you'll be there. After all... You're me, and I'm you."

The Shadow nodded, standing up. She felt a weight release off her shoulders as she admitted that. Hurt to admit that she had run from herself for so long... But it was relieving to finally be done, to be honest.

"I'm not kidding when I said lay off the Wilduck, by the way. I'll manifest again if I need to."

"Yeah, don't count on it. I like me some food. Now come on."

The Shadow simply smiled, dissipating. In its place, a woman with a long robe stood, stark white in comparison to the void around them, though her dark brown hair only blended in. The woman vanished, and Kotone felt her heart at ease.

"Eurydice... My Persona."

The Butterfly masked man appeared again, nodding to Minako, who scoffed slightly. "You were a big help there, huh?"

"I cannot directly interfere. Only guide... Though it seems my interference wasn't necessary, now was it?"

"True... though it would've been appreciated. Can I have my Rings back, by the way? I know you're the one who sealed them."

"Those rings are of a world outside of our own. I had nothing to do with sealing them. That was you."

Minako looked a bit surprised about that, though... She had to admit that it made sense. After all, she had been so messed up that she manifested her own Shadow. Only natural that she were to blame for the Rings being locked like that.

"I believe a friend is waiting for you... You may return to the world you were in, or you may enter the sea of souls for rebirth... The choice is yours."

Kotone laughed at that. "Like you need to ask. I'll see you, Philemon. Let Igor know I said hi, alright?"

It was going to be a beautiful March 6th...

---

Kotone's eyes flew open, air filling her lungs. She felt like she was on fire, why was she so wrapped up in blankets? She tore them off, getting out of bed and stretching a bit. She felt more alive than ever!

#burning dread: kotone #in person #high stakes pokeblogging

[detectiveichijouji]

Case 23 - Kido Joe’s strict rules of madness

[AO3 version]

Briefly, Ken and the others found Noel around Taichi’s university. But the moment his eyes encountered theirs, Noel decided to run away. Maybe he was still scared?

“Ken.”

Daisuke stopped walking and glanced at Ken, “Noel had a fragment, but he got it stolen from him. He was going to give it to me so we could keep it in a safer place and without hurting anyone.”

“... I see.”

“I told ya, Noel is a good guy. You gotta apologize to him.”

“... I will, but next time ok? I have to go home.”

And then Ken left. The group went back to their own homes after that too. But Ken wasn’t going home… He really found odd Noel Leblanc being there, right there… Casually and all of a sudden… He was kinda curious about Noel’s alibi to being there…

… But he didn’t find Noel.

… Noel Leblanc was definitely there -- Ken was musing as he returned home. The moment he arrived at the Ichijoujis residence, he realized his parents weren’t at home yet so he just walked to his room and started musing about the information gathered so far.

“... Something does not sound right…”

“Hm?” Wormmon blinked, “What’s wrong?”

“Noel confirmed he’s a distant relative of Arsène Lupin’s creator,” he was reading the messages Takeru sent to him. 

It felt like Ken and Takeru had become some kind of Sherlock Holmes and Watson for this mystery. Funny though, because of the Lupin books having its own take of the most known British detective as ‘Herlock Sholmes’.

“Huh, is it?”

“Well, it can be possible… But it might mean we’re on the right path,” Ken rested the phone on the desk and looked at Wormmon, “It could mean the hypothesis that Noel Leblanc created Arsenemon is plausible.”

“Hmm…Ah, I see!” Wormmon nodded, listening to Ken’s musings quite interested.

“Maybe he sent Arsenemon to help us out. Noel was present when Hikari-san received Koushiro-san’s phone call…”

“Hmm… True true.”

“This means… Espimon might not be Noel’s only digimon partner.”

“Oh??”

“He’s Arsenemon’s partner too.”

Joe and Gomamon usually go home late, because of the activities at the medical school and his internship there. Also, they were still helping the Digimon Arena -- which changed its localization to a better place, and kept training and challenging digimon and tamers. Except this time King Shoutmon had legit real prizes for them, from their village’s cuisine and crafts after all.

“Soooooo… Do you think I can beat TeslaJellymon next time and win the all-you-can-eat ticket from Delumon’s cafe?”

“It would’ve been nice, but don’t forget we’re not there to just compete,” Joe smiled, “we’re helping to keep everyone safe and treat their wounds.”

“Of course! But… Ah… I’d like to try out the Village of the Smiles’ cuisine someday…”

They laughed lightly, walking in the streets. Until they found the eyepatched Impmon… lying on the sidewalk.

“Huh…?” they blinked.

“Help… Me…!!”

In the morning…

“Aaaah I can’t believe I’m turning 17 soon!!” Daisuke seemed pretty… excited?? “Just a few more days… Uh… 18 days!!”

“Why? Do you want to get your presents already?” Hikari giggled.

“N-nope! I mean… Takeru, Ken and you are already 17! I’m always the last one of the 1991 kids to get older!”

“True…” Takeru smiled, “I’m the oldest. You can call me ‘Takeru-san’ now”

“No way!” he pouted.

Noel was also walking with them to school, again. At least this didn’t feel tense this time.

“... Ah! Noel,” Daisuke grinned, “When is your birthday, dude?”

“... June 15, but why?” The boy looked back, directly to Daisuke and with some curiosity about what Daisuke would do with that info.

“Oh! So you’re…”

“16 years old already. I was born in 1992… I think.”

“Makes sense…”

June 15…? -- Takeru thought, but this time he kept quiet. To not make Daisuke mad at him again. But why was that date interesting for him…?

“This makes him a Gemini!” Hikari commented, “Like Miyako-san!”

“Hm? Inoue-san… is a Gemini…?”

“Yes, her birthday is on May 30th though”

“Oh…”

“Mine is December 1st!” Daisuke added, with another grin, “This means I get presents twice in a month!”

“Oh… Christmas presents too…”

“Well, there’s the ones who just give only one present for two dates” Hikari teased Daisuke with a giggle, “Right~”

“H-hey…! Don’t remind me of that!!”

The classes were completely normal for them all. But something kept bugging Takeru… Something wasn’t right… Something… was off.

Then, after class he just witnessed (by sheer accident of fate) Lune talking with Noel and Soleil:

“You shouldn’t be befriending those punks!” She said, “Remember, we have a goal.”

“...” Noel, however, did not say anything in return.

“Well… Let him be, Lune.” Soleil sighed, “Soon or later he will stop.”

“I made predictions, they won’t stay on your side at all!” she continued, “If you keep trying to be Motomiya Daisuke’s friend… You’re fated to misfortune.”

Takeru wanted to intervene and defend Daisuke, they were saying something so awful about his friend! And now saying Noel couldn’t stay friends with Daisuke?!

But Takeru’s phone rang, and he had to leave before the other three noticed him there. It was Miyako, asking him and the others to gather at the karaoke booth.

He, Daisuke and Hikari (plus their digimon) left the school and went to the usual karaoke booth. There, Miyako explained them the details:

“King Shoutmon said… Joe-senpai had gone crazy and took control over the Digimon Arena. Then, Izumi-senpai sent me a message saying he detected another fragment and a bizarre amount of data around this area here,”

She pointed to a marked area in the map of her laptop.

“Then, I went to check which area is and… Bingo. It’s the new place our friends picked to host the Digimon Arena’s activities.”

“Another fragment…” Takeru clenched his fist.

“Now they chose to attack Joe-san…” Hikari frowned, “First Sora-san, then Taichi… What are their goals now?”

“... I can’t see the pattern here” Iori commented, trying to connect the cases to each other, “Only that Arsenemon was right to warn us about the enemy targeting us now.”

“Hmm…” Ken mused.

“Did you notice something, Ken?” Tailmon asked.

“Miyako-san, please search for Ornismon data. I need to check a little detail.”

“Hmm??” They all looked at Ken, and then Miyako started checking the database about Ornismon.

“Hmmm… It is an ancient bird, possibly linked to… hatred?”

“Hatred??” Patamon repeated, “So this means…”

“They were exploiting our Crests’ power negatively” Hawkmon added, “isn’t it what you were thinking about, Ken-san?”

“Yes, as I suspected… Previously they were enabling the seven deadly sins, but now…”

“They’re goin’ after us and using our Crest power wrongly…” Armadimon mused, “So, this means… Takeru and Patamon can be targeted again, dagya?”

“... We need to catch those remaining pieces as soon as possible” Daisuke clenched his fists, then asked: “How many shards are left?? How many do we have? And How many Arsenemon have?”

“Whoa whoa, calm down Daisuke” Miyako said, “Hmmm… 7 for us, 9 for Arsenemon, and there’s only 4 left.”

Iori was recapping all the previous incidents with the fragments: “Taichi-san’s case was possibly exploiting the Crest of Courage. So if Joe-san has one…”

“Well, he was kinda acting cowardly don’t ya think?” V-mon commented, “So, what’s the opposite of Reliability?”

“Hmm… Deceitful, disloyalty, dishonesty, treachery, unsteadiness…” Wormmon answered.

“I think we shouldn’t go too literal here,” Daisuke sounded annoyed, “Let’s go stop Joe-san before things get worse.”

“Alright!”

But someone else was listening to them… And before they could catch him , the one spying on them left quickly, not even meeting with the group when they left the booth and headed to the Digimon Arena.

The Digimon Arena was covered by… water!? At least it was a bubble filled with water shielding the building. The 02 group were confused about it though -- would they need to swim to get inside? Should they just send Iori and Submarimon?

But…

Sending Iori alone sounded too troublesome…

So Ken had a strange feeling and approached the water barrier. He examined it for a second and then put his head inside it for a few minutes. Miyako and Daisuke gasped in horror and they were ready to go there when Ken took his head off the barrier and looked at them, deadpanned. 

“It’s not real, we can breathe inside.”

“NEXT TIME DON’T DO SOMETHING THAT RECKLESS!!” both Miyako and Daisuke hissed.

“A-anyway… Let’s go,” Takeru tried to interrupt their fight. They all nodded and got inside the building.

And then they just met Joe and what was supposed to be Gomamon, perhaps? A Neptunemon was next to him and they watched the Arena, TeslaJellymon and other competitors like Tenno Yuu’s Sparrowmon were… writing something on paper sheets!?

“What, is this a cram school now?” Daisuke blinked “Everyone’s doing homework??”

“No, it’s not homework it’s…” Iori commented as they approached the arena. Then he just glanced at one of those sheets and realized what they were, “... a contract.”

“A contract?!” The others (but Ken) exclaimed.

Daisuke immediately took a paper from one of the kids filling it and read it, “Huh…? It’s about the arena rules?? Wait, you have to agree with ALL OF THOSE to be able to participate in the battles!?”

Ken yanked the paper from Daisuke’s hand, and the others read it over his shoulder, “... ‘No running, no using projectiles, no weapons, no shouting, no chatting, no singing, no rough play, no drinks or food, no swearing, no tossing junk, no diving’… ‘Don’t break the equipment/building, use the stairs, play safely, use slippers’... ‘Please inform your phone, Digimon Arena ID, blood type, digivice type, digimon type, digimon field, digimon category, allergies, goals’…”

“What is this, a public pool??” Daisuke squinted his eyes. (※ he clearly didn’t read it at all)

“I think this is going too far,” Iori commented.

“Joe-san, please stop!” Miyako ran towards her, but suddenly a horde of Marching Fishes came in, blowing a whistle and wearing security hats.

“DON’T RUN INSIDE THE BUILDING!!” Joe shouted from a high lifeguard chair.

“A-ah!!” Miyako stopped immediately. The others came in, but walking calmly. Then she looked at the group and whispered, “How can we do something without breaking the rules?”

“... Have Imperialdramon deck that fish-like digimon?” V-mon commented.

“That’s Neptunemon,” Tailmon clarified, “I didn’t expect to see one here…”

“The rules didn’t say we can’t fly, so…” Daisuke grabbed his digivice, “Let’s go, V-mon!”

V-mon nodded and then… “V-MON EVOLV--”

“NO SHOUTING!!” Joe ordered, shouting again; then he snapped his fingers. 

“W-WHAT?!” The Marching Fishes came in swarms and then dragged Daisuke and V-mon outside -- “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaah, helppppp…!!” they shouted until their voices faded. Then the fishes left them outside the building.

Daisuke and V-mon tried to get inside, but… no success. Now the barrier was made of water and they couldn’t dive into it -- “DARN IT!!” Daisuke punched the barrier.

The other five couldn’t even react to that… Oh no, they’re in real serious trouble. If they can’t snatch the shard from Joe and Gomamon…

“Joe-san,” Hikari frowned, and then walked calmly there, “Why are you doing this?? Weren’t you helping King Shoutmon and TeslaJellymon to get stronger? Weren’t you here because you wanted to help the contestants to not get badly hurt??”

“Those fights ARE dangerous, so I put an end on them. If they follow the rules, no one will be hurt. I’m doing it for them, but I won’t allow anyone to disobey my rules.”

“That’s wrong!” she snapped, but still not raising her voice, “You know deep down that you’re setting too many rules to the point there’s no fun anymore! Yes, you’re preventing someone from getting hurt, but you’re also not allowing no one to do anything!!”

“You’re like them, disobeying norms and running amok in this place!”

“Aren’t you disobeying the rules too, at this point?” Iori said, deadpanned.

“H-huh?!”

“You clearly said ‘No shouting’ while shouting,” Takeru commented.

“Kh--!!”

“He also shouted when telling Miyako-san to not run too,” Wormmon nodded.

“The rules say no weapons, but Neptunemon is wielding that big spear right next to you,” Patamon added with a shrug.

“We can do those things! We’re keeping this place in order!!” Neptunemon hissed.

“That’s a lie, you just want to drop a ton of rules on us to ruin the fun” Miyako squinted her eyes, “How can the Digimon Arena work if you can’t even battle?!”

“Yeah,” Armadimon wagged his paw, “Bet y’all can’t beat us fair and square here, dagya.”

“You all are--!!”

“Checkmate, Joe-senpai” Ken smirked, “You know we’re right. You broke the same rules you made.”

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! I… I…!!!”

“Should we go retrieve the fragment from him now?” Hawkmon asked them.

“Mhm! Miyako-san!” Hikari grabbed her D-3.

“Ok!”

Hawkmon evolves to… Aquilamon!Tailmon!Jogress Evolution! Silphymon!!

Silphymon then used their visor to pinpoint where the shard was, so they could get it from Joe-or-Gomamon. They identified it as the whistle on Joe’s necklace.

“There” Silphymon shouted, but Neptunemon attacked. They dodged the spear and stared at the opponent, “Miyako-san, The Digimental fragment is the whistle” They (Aquilamon side) said.

“I won’t let you get him and ruin our dominion!”

“Since Joe-san broke the rules…” Takeru nodded, then used the Digimental of Hope to evolve Patamon into Pegasusmon.

“No!!” Neptunemon shouted, and then threw the spear at the boy and Pegasusmon. Everything was starting to get extremely BAD when…

“Un, deux, trois~”

Someone snapped the fingers and teleported Takeru & Pegasusmon out of the range of the spear.

“WHAT?!” everyone exclaimed.

“C'est l'heure du spectacle” Arsenemon appeared in the middle of the arena, “ Pardon, I’ve been appearing too early recently~”

“Arsenemon!!”

“STOP RIGHT THEREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!” Daisuke and V-mon came in, running after they had been unblocked from the barrier.

“Oh, my favorite Chosen Detective was outside this time,” then he snapped his fingers and a calling card popped in front of Daisuke, which was caught by the boy:

Hello, mon ami. I’m here to steal the wicked fragment from Kido Joe. Enjoy the show~

“I won’t sit and let you steal it!” Daisuke growled.

Then suddenly, Kido Joe started to laugh. Quite scary, to be honest.

“Ah, you want this?” Joe showed them the whistle in his hand, “Well, I’ll give you if you could beat Neptunemon.”

“?!?”

“What? Do you think I’m not a trustworthy person?”

“Ken… We have to use Imperialdramon right now” Daisuke whispered to the other, who nodded in response.

“Then I will--” But suddenly a robotic arm sneaked in and stole the whistle from Jou’s hand “W-WHAT!? HOW?!”

“You’re all bark but no talk!” Miss Espimon appeared from the ceiling, “Now go back to normal!!”

“… He let it be caught,” Armadimon blinked.

“?!?!?! HOW COULD YOU--”

“He might not wake up like this. So allow me to help you, fine gentleman…” Arsenemon shrugged, “Oeil de Chat” he snapped his fingers and a small black cat with green eyes magically popped in front of Joe, having the glowing cat eyes synchronize with Joe’s and then making the man fall asleep.

“I… um… Sleepy…” Joe fell asleep, and with this Gomamon returned to his original form.

“H-huh?!” Gomamon blinked, “Ah I’m back to normal…?”

“ You. tried. to. kill. us.” Pegasusmon appeared behind Gomamon with a deadly glare. He was already charging his Silver Blaze when Takeru patted the back of his head.

“GAAHAHAHAAAA SORRY SORRY SORRY!! 💦” Gomamon hid behind Daisuke. 

Daisuke took Gomamon with his two hands and lifted the digimon, “So, you we’re really into it huh…”

“I’m soooooooooorry!! That Impmon inserted one of those shards on Joe and it also corrupted me!!”

Everyone stared at Gomamon, “Suspicious…”

“D-do you really think I’d try to hurt y’all!? I’m a good digimon!! B-Besides… There was something else that night…”

“Huh?”

“A pair of eyes… They definitely cough Joe and me into some hypnosis spell… I recognized it… It was… Dracumon’s eyes.”

“Dracumon?”  The kids and the digimon exclaimed, but not Ken or Tailmon (neither Epimon and Arsenemon) (※ Silphymon jogress has undone and both Tailmon and Hawkmon were back to adult and child forms, respectively)

“Dracumon… that name…” Ken mused, “It surely sounds familiar…”

“Dracumon are vampire-like digimon, probably one of Vamdemon’s old acquaintances” Tailmon explained, “Might be… related to… That one digimon we met before…” 

“Hmm…”

“Ugh… I felt like I had a hangover…” Joe woke up, kinda dizzy though… “But I didn’t drink…”

“Are you okay now, Joe-san?” Hikari asked him.

“Yeah… Thank you guys… And sorry everyone…”

“Oh don’t worry you’re fine now right, Big J??” TeslaJellymon grinned, “we gotta catch those two digimon and snap their necks!!”

“No neck snapping!” Daisuke said, then he looked around and… “GAH, ARSENEMON AND ESPIMON ARE GONE!!”

Ken didn’t mind the lost fragment though… He was mostly interested in the fact that Espimon came out of nowhere. It only reinforced his theories that Arsenemon is linked to Noel, as partner or as some accomplice.

As for now, Arsenemon has acquired the 10th shard, while Team 02 has only 7. Only 3 are yet to be found, or to be used by Impmon and Dracumon.

#young prince detective ichijouji ken #02 team digimon case files

[camerongonewyld]

Why I Named Myself After Cameron Frye

 As most of you have already guessed, taking one look at my Tumblr account definitely would render this as stating the obvious, but Cameron Frye is a character that means a lot to me, and I consider him to be one of the deepest on-screen characters to come out of cinema. His story is such a behemoth to dissect because of how much it resonates with people, with me being one of those people. As I grow older, I realize just how much I reconcile with this character, and how much his story means to me. This is my analysis. 

    This post will dive into heavy topics, such as depression, anxiety, suicide/suicidal thoughts, mental illness/mental disorder, self diagnosed mental disorder, parental issues/parental abuse, among other things of that likeness. If these are topics that disturb you in any way, I suggest skipping this post for your own sake. I must also note that I am in no way a mental health expert. This post does not intend to diagnose anybody who might experience similar behaviors to that of those mentioned in this post. If you are experiencing symptoms of anxiety, depression, paranoia etc, please talk to someone who can help you seek a proper diagnosis. Your life matters, and your feelings are valid, and you are not alone, but I strongly advise that you please do not take this post as advice to improve your mental health. This is a character breakdown/close analysis and a comparison of a character’s experiences to that of my own experiences in my own life. That being said, you have been warned. 

 Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is nothing short of an iconic movie, and that’s not just an opinion. Released in 1986, by a slow rising studio at the time, Paramount Pictures, it was the tenth highest grossing film in 1986, pulling in over $70 million in the box office worldwide, on just a budget of $5 million. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off was a financial miracle for the company, and was definitely a novelty for the time period. Teen high school buddy movies were a popular trope in teen movies, and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is a prime example of one of these movies. 

    But before I go on, here is a quick film synopsis, for those who haven’t seen it or have seen it and need a refresher. As always, I recommend watching the film to anybody who hasn’t seen it before reading this post. At the time of me writing this, the film is available to watch on Netflix until October 31st. 

    Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is a film about professional high school slacker, Ferris Bueller, who can get away with just about anything by his cleverness and wit. A master manipulator, who elaborately schemes different ways he could ditch school without consequences. After duping his parents into believing he was sick for the 9th time in his senior high school year, he calls upon his friend Cameron, who was skipping school due to an alleged genuine sickness, who helps Ferris to bail his girlfriend Sloane out of class by faking the death of her grandmother via a fake phone call performed by Cameron to the principle of the school. Before dishing Sloane out of a boring history lecture, Ferris manipulates Cameron into letting him drive his fathers beloved 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California to go pick up Sloane from school. Once the three of them are united and officially ditching school, Ferris Bueller treats the two of them to a day in the city, showing them everything he can as means of showing them the joy of living, before he and Cameron would have to graduate in June. From there, shenanigans ensue, as they spend the day doing as much as they can with each other before Ferris would have to scheme his way back home before his parents arrive.

�� Naturally, a spoiler warning is now in effect for the rest of this post. You have been warned.

  Despite the title of the movie having Ferris’s name front and center, my interpretation of the film puts Cameron Frye in the role of the main character, as he is the character who experiences the most development over the course of the film.  

   The message of the film is apparent within the first scene of the film, with Ferris opening the movie with a monologue about how he schemes his way out of school, a commentary on high school and how it wastes away the lives of teenagers. Ferris repeats the iconic phrase in this scene, “life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” The rest of the film's messages are implied through the events that unfold after.

    Ferris, while shown to be manipulative, and selfish, his end goal was not to just skip school and get away with it. His intentions are directed solely at his friend Cameron. Through his interactions with him and his narration to the audience, Ferris makes it clear that he acts this way towards Cameron to loosen him up. 

    As we are introduced to Cameron, it is abundantly clear that he is a polar opposite to Ferris. He’s an extreme pessimist, with a bleak outlook on life. He doesn’t believe in the beauty of living life to the fullest the way Ferris does. Unlike Ferris, who is sitting outside sunbathing next to the pool, happily sipping pineapple juice without a care in the world, Cameron is lying sickly in bed, medication and tissues scattered around the bed and side tables.  Immediately, Ferris invalidates Cameron’s perceived sickness, telling him to get off his ass and to pick him up from home. The next scene, Cameron is sitting in his car, debating whether or not to do what Ferris says, ultimately giving in and going to Ferris’s house anyways, going against his own will to do so. 

    Cameron is explicitly shown to be susceptible to Ferris’s manipulation tactics, aware of what Ferris is doing, he still does what he wants anyways, whether that be out of fear of losing Ferris (Ferris makes numerous empty threats towards Cameron about their relationship. I.e: “If you don’t come over here, you can find yourself a new best friend.” “You’ve been saying that since the 4th grade, pal.”) or because in his mind, he knows he needs to get out of the rut he’s found himself in since the day he was born. While Ferris is on the phone with Cameron in this scene, Ferris tells him his sickness is “just in your head.” It’s a line that goes deeper than the surface level of just Ferris being an asshole towards his friend. Expectations are ultimately just in your head. While it certainly isn’t easy to shake them, and it takes a lot more than just lying to yourself to let go of your anxieties, it’s a commentary on how those who are depressed, such as myself, let the weight of expectations stop them from doing what they truly want to do.

    Cameron can be characterized as paranoid, neurotic, cynical, pessimistic, worrisome, depressed, protective and reasonable, among other things. As Ferris continues to test his patience, Cameron continuously tries to protest against Ferris’s antics. Let’s go back to the Ferrari I had mentioned previously. This Ferrari is an important symbol in Cameron’s story. The Ferrari symbolizes everything Cameron is. It’s the reason why he’s neurotic, scared, paranoid, and why he acts the way he does. In a way, you could say the Ferrari represents all of Cameron’s deep anxieties. 

    The Ferrari is also important to the story because of Cameron’s father. Cameron’s father is never present in the film, and neither is Cameron’s mother. Through the progression of the film, we are filled in about Cameron’s home life through narration from Ferris, and dialogue from Cameron himself.

 Cameron’s father is, to put it bluntly, abusive towards Cameron, and it’s implied he’s abusive towards his mother as well. The Ferrari is his fathers most prized possession, which can be tied into the symbolism of the Ferrari representing all of Cameron’s anxieties and fears. Cameron’s father is proud of Cameron’s anxiety. This is because with these fears, he can control Cameron, and keep him in line. This is why Cameron is depressed, and spends most of the movie freaking out over the possibility of his father finding out about him skipping school, and worse, doing so with Ferris, letting him drive the oh-so-precious vehicle. He is scared of his father knowing about him defying his own fears. 

    I intended this blog to get personal, because after all, I named myself Cameron for a reason. The implications of Cameron’s home life definitely struck chords with me. As Cameron continues to go along with Ferris, his anxieties build up and up and up. Like Cameron, I constantly subject myself to putting up with my own personal Ferris Buellers. In a way, Ferris can represent who Cameron longs to be.

(Take note of what Cameron says at the timestamp 1:30-2:15)

   Ferris, while being his own character, can also symbolize a side of Cameron that he wished he could embrace, if he had just let go of his anxieties. There is a duality between the two of them that I find in myself. I deal with the weight of my parents expectations, constantly subjecting myself to burn out so intensely to the point of me getting physically sick. 

  Ferris is aware of Cameron’s situation. In the scene where Ferris, Sloane and Cameron are eating at a fancy restaurant, we get a cut of Ferris in the bathroom, at the sink, as he fills the audience in on the details of Cameron’s home life.

  “I used to worry that my family was the only one that had weirdness in it. That used to worry me. Then I saw how Cameron’s family functioned. His home life is really twisted. That's why he's sick all the time. It really bothers him. He’s the only guy I know who feels better when he’s sick. If I had to live in that house, I’d probably pray for a disease too. The place is like a museum. It’s very beautiful and very cold, and you’re not allowed to touch anything. Can you imagine what it must have been like for Cameron to be in that joint as a baby? I’m actually amazed that I got the car out of the garage. I caught Cameron digging the ride once or twice. It's good for him. It teaches him to deal with his fear.”

     Ferris is a part of Cameron. Without Ferris, Cameron would’ve never realized his own anxieties and how much they really controlled his life. Ferris was raised wildly different from Cameron, Cameron’s illness being born from his demanding home life, where he learns that any kind of disorder is bad. Everything must be perfect, and in life, everything has an order. Cameron goes about life with this attitude, insisting that everything be done in a way that causes as little chaos as possible. This brings me to the art museum scene. 

 This scene is perhaps one of the most impactful scenes in the entire movie, and one that resonates with me so deeply. Up until this point, Cameron has spent the entire time worrying himself sick, hardly enjoying himself the way Ferris wants him to. In the museum, Cameron is stuck looking at pointillist painting, “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte”, a well-known piece painted by George Seruat. 

   As a former art student, my class had a unit on pointillist paintings. To put it simply, pointillism is a style of painting where the artist, instead of using lines or strokes to create a picture, the artist will poke dots onto a canvas using various different primary colors that when viewed from far away, appear to blend together to achieve the desired effect of our eyes seeing secondary colors. These dots are very compact and close together, and when placed accordingly, the colors take shape and come together as a whole, and so we see all of the little dots at once take the form of the painting are eyes are seeing. 

  As Cameron stares at this painting, he focuses on the little girl in the picture in front of him. Each shot alternates between Cameron and the little girl, with every shot shown of the little girl, zooming in closer and closer to the canvas. 

   This is where we, the audience, begin to notice the dots on the canvas, as the more Cameron looks at this painting, the more he begins to realize that there is nothing there. The little girl isn’t real, the entire painting isn’t real, as they are nothing but small dots on a canvas. This scene has many different interpretations to it, as many people have debated the meaning of this scene. Personally, this scene to me means that Cameron is realizing how futile it is to worry about everything. The more he stares, the more he realizes that nothing is there. The more he worries, the more minuscule the meaning of life becomes. The more he worries, the more he loses his grip on reality, and he realizes how much of a nothingness he has become, just like the little girl in the painting, he is nothing. He projects his existentialism onto each of the little dots on the canvas, this represents the realization that the more he spends his time worrying, the more meaningless his life becomes. 

   I’ve spent years of my life dealing with anxiety and paranoia, and like Cameron, it has taken a toll on me and my attitude towards living. Cameron spends his life feeling sorry for himself, wishing he had a way out, being consumed by his fears so much so to the point that he causes himself physical stress. I have had episodes where I’ve grown so grim and stricken from stress that my hair would fall out in clumps and I’d develop sore throats despite hardly using my voice. 

  Growing up in a household similar to Cameron’s, all my life I’ve been burdened with the expectation to be perfect like my mother. I’d go out of my way for people that hardly cared about me, and I’d cut down my own self esteem for the smallest mistakes. There’s a reason why Cameron speaks to me in this way, because he of all people would understand how I felt. Backtracking to the conversation Cameron has with Sloane, she suggests Cameron should go to college, to which Cameron replies “for what?” She asks him what his interests are, and Cameron responds with a simple “nothing.” 

  Being burdened with only being able to do one thing your whole life, and that being adhering to authority, Cameron becomes self aware of his lack of thinking for himself. He doesn’t have any interests because nobody allowed him to be his own person in the first place. 

 This brings me to the last few scenes I want to mention. We’ve established the Ferrari as being a symbol for Cameron’s deepest anxieties. The Ferrari is all that remains of the Cameron that’s been established at the beginning of the story by the climax of the film. As the evening creeps up on Ferris, Sloane and Cameron, it comes time for the three of them to pick up the Ferrari from the public garage they have left the Ferrari in at the beginning of their frolic through the city. By this point, Cameron has loosened up, finally feeling able to relax and praise the day for being good. As Ferris is driving, he takes a look at the dashboard, noticing the car’s mileage. 

  Unbeknownst to them, while they believed the car was safely being looked after in the garage, a pair of garage valets had taken the Ferrari out for a joyride, adding a significant amount of miles onto the car. The mileage on the car is important because Cameron’s father has the mileage number on the car memorized, as a means of keeping Cameron from driving it. Once Cameron realizes this, his hope of possibly getting away with having one good day is shattered and he goes into shock. 

  Despite the car still being in perfect physical condition, Cameron breaks down because he knows his father will notice the change in the mileage. All and any attempts to bring Cameron back are futile, as Ferris and Sloane take him back to Sloane’s house to sit in the pool while Cameron collects himself. 

  The events that take place after this scene is the final climax and breaking point for Cameron’s character. Cameron eventually regains himself after jumping into the pool and laying at the bottom, not coming to the surface until Ferris dives in after him to save him. We cut to the three of them in Cameron’s garage with the Ferrari, the Ferrari being propped up by the backside. With a cinder block on the reverse pedal, the car’s engine runs continuously, attempting to take the miles off the car. 

   This is where Cameron finally explains his breakdown to Ferris and Sloane. 

   “You know, that whole time I was just thinking things over. I was like, I was like meditating. Then I sort of watched myself from inside. I realized it was ridiculous being afraid. Worrying about everything; wishing I was dead. All that shit. I’m tired of it. It was the best day of my life. I’m going to miss you guys next year.”

   Cameron has finally reached a point in his development where he realizes the futility of his paranoia and anxiety. He has come to his senses and he looks back on his journey of discovering himself. His self realization is put to the test when he goes to check on the Ferrari, noticing the mileage hasn’t changed at all since putting the car in reverse. 

   This is where Cameron’s arc is completed. He totals the car and he does so with a smile. Cameron realizes that living in fear is no life at all. He finally starts thinking for himself, pushing himself to stand up for himself. The Ferrari has been totaled, but this is far from a loss for Cameron. This scene symbolizes Cameron diminishing the last of his fear of his father and himself. It’s a moment in cinema history that stands out among other critically acclaimed films from the 80′s. Cameron no longer sees himself as nothing, after having been treated like nothing his entire life. The painting, the car, Ferris himself all stand as important symbols in Cameron’s development over the course of the film. Ferris is the one symbol that remains with Cameron by the end of the movie, because while Ferris is his own person and character, he has solidified himself as a part of Cameron, an allegory for what’s going on in Cameron’s psyche. Cameron wants to be free like Ferris is. The moment he is tempted to follow Ferris does he truly realize what it means to be free. He never stopped Ferris because while he was reluctant to do what Ferris wanted, he knows in his heart and mind that there is no other way out. The whole day he spends out in the real world with his friend, he realizes that the way he was raised was wrong. There is no order in life, nothing is decided, and when you spend all of your time worrying and waiting for the future, your life flies by without giving you a chance to live it for yourself. There are more important things in the world than material things, like the Ferrari. Ferris said it best: “A man with his priorities so far out of wack doesn’t deserve such a fine automobile.”

   And so Cameron decides to face his father. We never get to see this scene, as it is up to the audience's imagination to determine what happened between the two of them, but we can infer that with Cameron’s newfound confidence and belief in himself, that he will be just fine. For the first time in his life, Cameron is going to be just fine. 

  So where does that leave me? What do me, a 16 year old gay, transgender kid, and Cameron Frye have in common? The reason Cameron resonates with me on such a personal level is because he is everything I see in myself compiled into a character. It’s really empowering to see a flawed character rising to the occasion and acknowledging themselves as the issue to their problems. While Cameron’s problems are in no way his fault and are merely a product of the way he was raised and treated his whole life, he reflects on himself and does something to change his outlook on life. Even with his issues, he proves that there is hope to be found in a life that has done nothing but treat you like shit. Like Cameron, I have struggled with a stifling home life, with controlling and manipulative parents that don’t allow me to be my own person. I have spent years of my life worrying, and waiting, and feeling sorry for myself, hoping that one day I’ll just drop dead and get the pain over with. Your life might not improve just because you stood up for yourself once. We never see what happens to Cameron after he totals the car because there is a message to be seen there, that being we have no idea what the future holds, but whether or not we want to find out if it’s something positive or negative is up to us. Self discovery is a process, and totaling the car was a big part of it. 

   I have spent years running from myself, trying to figure out what it was I did to deserve to be hurt by my own family, only to realize that it was never my fault. Environments have the ability to be changed, and like Cameron, the first step in my process was taking a stand and defending it. Even when I was turning my own knife against me, allowing myself to succumb to my depressive episodes, I still reluctantly followed my personal Ferris Bueller, seeking help from the people around me. While I am far from completing my journey of self discovery, like Cameron, I’ll just have to follow Ferris Bueller’s advice. 

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

#ferris bueller's day off #ferris bueller #cameron frye #personal essay #long post #character analysis #essay #movies #transgender #trans #mental health #holy crap i just realized how not okay i am #i need a hug

[flint-quinlan]

introducing ; flint quinlan

cliff notes ;

FULL NAME: flint quinlan

GENDER: male

PRONOUNS: he/him

AGE: forty one

DOB: june 6th

OCCUPATION: vice principal of huntsville high

RESIDENCE: the town

RESIDENT or VISITOR: visitor

HUNTER or GATHERER: gatherer

TITLE: the brother

FACECLAIM: adam brody

lets dig a little deeper ;

flint was born into a blue blood family. he had spent his life getting to whatever her wanted without consequence and with that came the the expectation that he could get whatever he wanted. the oldest son came with high expectations and no room for failure. a crippling need to be the best had consumed him.

no wasn't an answer given to him, especially when he took over his fathers business. he took his fathers business into profit margins one could only dream of and there was the beginning of the problem.

working 24/7 had him stressed all the time and that lead to flint turning to alcohol and drugs to blow of steam and stay alert. he also abused those substances to forget the fact he really has nothing to show for his life other than a business he fucking hates and material goods that mean nothing to him. he was lonely and he felt like he missed out on the chance of settling down and that was only reinforced when his younger brother announced he was getting married to a woman called ivy oberon. flint was infatuated with her. he found her refreshing to be around. ivy's bachelorette weekend came and gone and ivy was missing. in fact, her whole squad was missing and flint felt like part of him was gone too.

a the loss of ivy, had flint spiralling. he dived deeper into his substance abuse to drown out the noise. his cocaine habit was the thing that almost killed him. on one binge, flint collapsed and was legally dead for 3 minutes before being brought back by paramedics. that was the wake up call he needed to seek help for his issues. flint was on his way to a rehab facility when he arrived in town and got stuck.

additional information ;

flint took the vice principal role to try and teach kids not to fall into the patterns he had

was to be the brother in late to ivy oberon

going through withdrawals of not having drugs & alcohol

been in town for roughly 2 months, though he feels it all blends together

possible plots ;

out of my system - someone to help flint deal with his withdrawals

in the middle - someone in the middle of flint trying to sort things out with ivy

teachers - teachers stick together.

possible connections ;

new friends

found family

best bro

colleagues @ the high school

acquaintances

dislike

neighbours

crush

will be updated to suit as flint's time at huntsville progresses

#huntsvilleintro #headcanon