#Carpet cleaning Silver Spring | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

my313 · 1 year ago

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spring cleaning ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ choi beomgyu

now playing 𝄞₊⊹ sukidakara - beomgyu (og: yuika)

⋆ pairing: high school sweetheart!beomgyu x gn!reader

⋆ summary: in an attempt to declutter your home for the spring, you find an old camcorder filled with beautiful memories of your first love.

⋆ warnings: fluff, mentioned past heeseung (enhypen) x reader, jealous beomgyu, established relationship, italics are flashbacks, beomgyu is a musician? so technically kind of an au, insinuated that beomgyu and reader were high schoolers in the 2000s

⋆ word count: 2k

a/n: LISTEN TO HIS COVER NEOOOWWW!!! god i love him so bad...... this is also not proofread sry i wrote this out of pure delusion LOL. stuff might sound bad omg i just wanted to write fluff 😭 banner by @/saradika <3

it's nearly midnight when you decided to rummage through your drawers, cabinets, and now, your closet. while dipping your head into the various sets of clothes, you reach for a heart-shaped box with a matching pink ribbon sitting on the lid.

inside, you find an assortment of trinkets from your days in high school. lilac envelopes with silly faces drawn on the seal, addressed to you; postcards from your distant relatives; your university acceptance letter; even a nasty tube of your favourite (expired) strawberry lip balm.

what really distracts you from your spring cleaning antics is the silver camcorder that sits in the very middle of the box.

the clunky piece of technology is covered in dust and mismatched stickers, obvious once you bring it out of the black hole that is your closet and into the warm light of your bedroom.

you don't expect it to start up with the way it's been abandoned for years, but the familiar jingle fills the silence and you're met with a pixelated view of your carpeting. you habitually click on the gallery, immediately flustered with the thumbnail that greets you.

a fond smile makes its way to your lips as the video plays. it's shit quality, as expected, but even with all the pixels distorting the boy's face, you recognise him. it comes easy, with beomgyu's round eyes nervously shifting from the falling cherry blossoms and onto the lens.

you recall this specific spring. the one right before you were set to graduate. you remember how odd beomgyu seemed the entire walk back to his house until he clumsily led the way to the little park a few minutes away from his childhood home. your impromptu shoot now becoming a memory to savour.

beomgyu keeps his distance from you as you take the longer, more scenic route to his house. he had it all planned out. today would be the day he'd tell you that he liked you. the first week of spring, the cherry blossoms falling perfectly; it was as if the universe and the gods of romance were aligning everything to his favour. he even got your favourite strawberry yogurt drink on-hand, poking the straw through the film and handing it to you proudly when you gasp and proclaim your gratefulness to him.

unfortunately, that didn't play out the way he fantasised the night before, sprawled out on his futon with a dopey grin on his face until morning came. even so, he didn't let his sleep deprived self peek through for a minute since you exited the school gates.

that was until you mentioned lee heeseung.

"heeseung asked me to the internet cafe this weekend," you begin, harmlessly conversing about your day like you usually do. you take a sip of your drink, then extend it to beomgyu, offering a taste.

he leans down to catch the straw between his lips, heart fluttering ever-so-slightly at the thought of your lips just being on that flimsy plastic a few moments ago. clearly, that gesture wasn't enough to keep his mind distracted from the mention of lee heeseung.

beomgyu tries to remain calm. internet cafe? surely, a thing friends do. you've tagged along with him and soobin a few times.

"he said it was a date."

which explains your current predicament. it's obvious that beomgyu is upset, lips jutted into a pout and brows furrowed. his hands stay stuck in his pockets as if they'd been glued there, so unlike his usual behaviour. on days like this, beomgyu typically links arms with you, or tugs on the top hook of your backpack to ease the weight off you, or even sling his arms around you with a mischievous grin. right now, you're sure this is the farthest beomgyu has been from you.

the silence drapes over you two like a stuffy blanket. you're thankful for the loud honks and bicycle bells in the background, even appreciating the yelling of the street vendors as your typically boisterous peer is quiet.

a bike chaotically speeds through your side, the rider repeatedly hitting the bell as they make their way to you. beomgyu quickly grabs your arm and trades places with you before the bike catches up, him on the road-side and you by the fences. once the bike passes with a hurried apology, beomgyu lets go of your arm and maintains the former distance.

"...sounds like a shit date, to be honest." the silence shatters. he mutters, huffing out a breath as he walks just an inch closer to you, as if trying to be a barrier between you and the road.

you blink at him, lips flat and eyes unassuming. just relieved he's talking to you. "you think?"

"yeah, why would you wanna be inside when the streets look like this.." he motions towards the cherry blossom trees surrounding you both. "..right now. d'you even like him enough to say yes?"

"i dunno. he's cool, i guess. isn't he your friend?"

"just played a few games together."

his responses are straight to the point. none of his beomgyu bullshit spinning your conversations through circles, which you admittedly did enjoy.

"is something... wrong? did you guys fight? i can beat him up for you if i go." you try to joke, your eyes never leaving beomgyu's face to catch his reaction.

he winces, "uh, no, not really. that- that's not the problem..."

your silence prompts beomgyu to keep talking, but his eyes don't meet yours. instead, he's staring at the pavement, picking up the creases on his shoes he'd never seen before, distracting himself by counting the petals he comes across. none of it calms his heart or clears the lump in his throat though.

he abruptly lifts his head and stares back at you. a pleasant surprise that causes you to blush at how his eyes sparkle so brightly. he sighs defeatedly, not wanting to be upset any longer. with one look at you, beomgyu's stubbornness weakens, a small smile on his lips as he closes the distance between you both.

his shoulder purposely clashes into yours, "it's really pretty at the park near my house right now. wanna see?"

you pause the video upon hearing the doorbell ring. with a knowing grin, you take the camcorder with you to the door. once you pull it open, the comforting sight of your boyfriend floods your vision.

"m'home~" he greets in a sing-song tone, arms spread wide awaiting your welcome home hug that he always craves after hours at the studio.

beomgyu's eyes travel from your sunken but excited eyes to the familiar thing in your hold. he blinks repeatedly, craning his neck up stiffly to look up at you again. comically, he brings an accusatory finger to the front with a nervous chuckle.

"is that...?"

"yup!" you beam enthusiastically, like you had waited for him to step foot into your shared apartment to eat him up.

knowing what was inside the camcorder, beomgyu could say it was similar. his face feels warmer despite the late night breeze still whisking him away from behind. you tug at his outstretched arm and pull him inside, shutting the door.

usually, you'd ask how work was, or pester him to let you listen to a new song he worked on. tonight though, none of that.

beomgyu sits next to you on the sofa, cheek nuzzled against your head. his downward gaze is alert to every button you press on the camcorder, cringing slightly at the memory of his partly successful confession.

beomgyu leans in closer to have a better look at the viewfinder. he chooses to focus on something else entirely even as you're sucked into the pretty pinks of the sakura flowers and the shaky footage of his round head.

the wind was just slightly unforgiving that day, petals swirling around the park. you're a few steps behind beomgyu. he's biting the inside of his cheek, stare stuck to the pavement, desperately wishing you'd speed up and start walking beside him.

impatient as ever, beomgyu decides he'll just slow down for you. he's not very subtle about it though, opting to halt entirely and turn his head in your direction. beomgyu wants to see the surprise in your face; eyes wide and cheeks pink. instead, what greets him is the lens of your camcorder, a hand-me-down from your relatives that you couldn't stop talking about over text just the other week.

beomgyu strides forward and you stay still in your spot, tightly gripping the camcorder. "beomgyu, say hi to the camera!"

your voice echoes with excitement, beomgyu doesn't have to peer beyond the camcorder to know that your lashes are kissing the apples of your cheeks with the way you're smiling widely. he wants to be the one to keep you beaming like this for years and years on end.

you're about to back away as beomgyu gets too close for the camcorder to film him and the view. then, you feel beomgyu's lithe fingers over your own, tugging on the camera, extending your arm by result, and raising it to his eye-level. beomgyu makes sure you're looking at him through the viewfinder. with a lopsided smile and head cocked to the side, beomgyu braces himself for what's to come, "hey, i like you."

your arm falls limp as he releases his grip on you, shocked by his confession. he doesn't let you process it, though, running towards the opposite direction. it takes you a moment to run after him, camera long forgotten. "choi beomgyu..! you!"

"why are you running away from someone you like, huh?!" you huff out, catching your breath.

when you look up, you can't help but point the camera at beomgyu again. with plenty of cherry blossom trees in the background, beomgyu center in the frame, wind trying to pull his necktie away, how could you not? the boy you like, the one that just confessed to you on one spring day, looked too beautiful.

the camcorder manages to pick up your words amidst the scratchy noises of the wind. in a whisper, one can hear your voice, "i like you too, beomgyu."

"wow, i was really handsome since birth, huh?" he poses confidently, his lips and warm breath kissing your hair as he speaks.

you roll your eyes with a smile, and you don't disagree. you never do and it makes beomgyu blush and grin. if he wasn't too comfortable in your warmth, he would be laying down on his stomach with a coquettish smile and his feet kicking up and down.

"yeah, s'why i'm engaged to you, no?" you blow a raspberry at him.

an exaggerated gasp paired with a dramatic drop of his jaw has your stomach hurting from laughing too hard. "i thought you loved me!"

"i do!" you giggle, biting down your lips to stop more fits of laughter spilling out. you squish beomgyu's cheeks together, lips pursed and begging to be kissed. so you do. "you and your pretty face, baby."

your laughs settle down into echoes of contentment, beomgyu's palm rubbing against your belly as if soothing your self-inflicted ache. plus, beomgyu would stick his limbs to your body if he could.

he presses his cheek against your head, "did you know i liked you even before that spring?"

you hum in thought, resting your hand atop the one on your tummy and filling in the gaps between his fingers with your own. you smile even harder upon feeling the cold metal band of your engagement rings. "nah. i thought it was impossible, honestly,"

"didn't even really think you thought of me like that until then, bomu." you admit shyly, playing with your interlocked fingers. beomgyu's lips purse in thought, "i thought i was pretty obvious though,"

"was buying you strawberry milk everyday and carrying your backpack home even if we lived in opposite directions not obvious enough for you, honey?"

"well... it's obvious now!"

"yeah," he beams that sweet, silly, sly beomgyu half-smirk that you've always loved. he releases your hands momentarily to raise his fingers to the light, showing off his ring. "we're so locked in now."

#from.313 #313.softhours #313.beomgyu #beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #txt fluff #beomgyu soft thoughts #beomgyu soft hours #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt x you #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x you

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serendipdipity01 · 1 month ago

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iv. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥

mary on a cross - yellowjackets ♱ CHAPTER FOUR series masterlist

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥

[ ₁₉₉₆! ]

Laura Lee's room smelled like lavender shampoo and vanilla-sugar perfume—sweet and dizzying, like the inside of a candle store at the mall. The kind of scent that clung to your clothes, soaked into your skin, and stayed long after you left. It was girlhood distilled into aroma: soft, saccharine, and a little suffocating.

The blinds were tilted halfway open, casting gold-striped shadows across the floral bedspread and cluttered vanity mirror. Dust floated in the late afternoon light like ash, spinning lazily in the air, catching on every surface.

Annie Jo sat on the edge of the bed, knees pressed together, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her church dress was stiff in the shoulders, pale blue with tiny white buttons and a lace-trimmed collar—a garment chosen by her mother the spring before, and worn only for photo days and potlucks. Her hair—soft, honey-blonde, parted with careful symmetry—was already half-curled by Laura Lee's steady hands. She could feel the residual heat at the nape of her neck where the curling iron had passed, a faint, prickling warmth like sunburn or shame.

On the dresser, a little plastic radio crackled with static. Gospel music played from its tinny speaker—some old recording of a woman singing about surrender, about being washed clean in the blood of the lamb. Annie Jo didn't know the words. She wasn't listening.

Her eyes stayed on the carpet, watching the sunlight slide across the floor in slow, syrupy ribbons. She picked at a loose thread on the hem of her dress, curling it around her pinky until it bit into the skin.

"You're real quiet," Laura Lee said finally, breaking the hush as she twisted another lock of hair around the foam curler. "Like... quieter than usual."

Annie Jo gave a small shrug, her gaze still downcast. "Just tired."

"Uh-huh." Laura Lee didn't sound convinced. She paused, set the iron on its little metal stand with a quiet clink, and studied her sister's reflection in the mirror. "Was it something Pastor Miller said?"

There was a split-second hitch in Annie Jo's breath. Barely noticeable. But Laura Lee caught it like a thread pulled taut.

"He talks a lot," Annie said carefully, her voice light but flat. "That's all. You know how he gets."

Laura Lee looked at her a moment longer, then gave a quiet sigh through her nose and let it go. Like she knew pressing too hard would only make Annie slam shut tighter, like a trap snapping closed.

She picked up the hairspray, gave it a gentle shake, and misted it lightly over Annie's curls. The scent bloomed sharp in the air—sweet and chemical, familiar. It made Annie's eyes sting.

"You looked like you were about to cry when you came up here," Laura Lee said softly.

"I wasn't," Annie replied, quick and even, like a reflex.

"I didn't say you did. Just that you looked like it."

Annie didn't answer. Her fingers moved to the silver cross around her neck, thumb brushing the smooth metal, rubbing over the edges. It was warm from her skin. Grounding. Heavy.

"I just think he's a little intense sometimes," Laura Lee added, voice quiet and kind. "Even when he means well. It's okay to feel stuff about it."

But Annie Jo couldn't speak—not to that. Not to any of it. There was something stuck in her throat, something shapeless and heavy, like wet paper pulp. It sat there, thick and sodden, refusing to move.

And then—

Brrrrng.

The cordless phone on Laura Lee's nightstand rang, loud and sudden. The kind of ring that made your nerves jump.

Laura Lee startled. "That'll be Mom, probably. Wanting to know if we're—"

"I got it," Annie Jo said, already rising. She smoothed her skirt with mechanical precision, crossed the room with a practiced grace, and picked up the phone with steady hands.

"Hello?"

There was a pause on the other end. A breath. Then—

"Hey. It's Natalie."

The sound of her name hit like a dropped match. Annie Jo's pulse stuttered so hard she felt it echo in her ribs, in her teeth. Her grip tightened on the receiver. She leaned slightly against the dresser for balance—the edge cool and unyielding beneath her palm.

Her eyes flicked to the blinds, where sunlight slanted sharp and gold through the room, then to the row of Laura Lee's perfume bottles, each one standing like a tiny saint on a mirrored tray. Their glass bodies threw shards of light across the wallpaper.

"Oh," she said, too quickly. She made herself slow down. "Hi."

She couldn't remember giving Natalie her number. Maybe she had. Maybe Natalie had gotten it from someone else. The fact that she'd called at all made something deep in Annie Jo's chest unfurl—shaky and terrified and electric.

"You still coming tonight?" Natalie asked, voice low and easy, like this was nothing. Like they'd done this a dozen times.

Annie blinked. "Uh. We've got a thing at church first. A little... celebration."

"For the team?"

"Sort of. Just me and Laura Lee. Our parents planned it." She hesitated. "With our pastor."

There was a beat. Then a dry, amused snort. "Of course they did."

The sound of Natalie's laugh settled in Annie Jo's spine like smoke—warm and curling, lighting her up from the inside. It wasn't loud. It wasn't even funny. But it was easy. Loose. Like it didn't care who was listening.

Annie felt it spark across her fingertips. It made her want to sit down. It made her want to run.

"I can come get you after," Natalie said, still soft, still cool. "Both of you. Don't really feel like walking into that keg party alone."

Annie Jo twisted the phone cord around her finger, tighter and tighter until it went white. Her voice felt far away when it came. "Okay. Yeah. That'd be... good."

Across the room, Laura Lee turned slightly from the mirror, raising one eyebrow.

Annie ducked her head, letting her hair fall forward like a curtain. Her face burned.

"I'll honk when I'm close," Natalie added. Then, a beat later, her voice dropped—teasing, low, velvet-edged: "You lookin' like church Annie or party Annie?"

The words hit like a spark to dry grass.

Annie Jo froze.

Her stomach dipped—sharp and sudden, like falling a few inches through the floor. Her breath caught. Her skin flushed hot all at once.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"They're... the same thing," she mumbled, but it came out thin, like tissue paper soaked through.

Natalie's laugh—soft, raspy, dangerous—poured through the line. "Sure they are."

Click.

The line went dead. But Annie Jo stayed there, receiver still pressed to her ear, listening to the faint, hollow buzz of the dial tone. Her heart thundered like hooves in her chest.

Everything in the room felt suddenly too much. The shimmer of the mirror. The gospel song still playing from the hallway. The dresses hanging on the closet door like pale ghosts. Everything was sharp-edged, buzzing.

She hung up slowly. Her hand trembled.

"Who was that?" Laura Lee asked. She'd turned fully now, smoothing her skirt with both hands like she needed something to do.

"Natalie," Annie Jo said, her voice easy. Too easy. Sugar-slick and false, like the smile she wore for the church ladies. "She's picking us up after. For the party."

Laura Lee's brows lifted, just slightly. A flicker of question passed behind her eyes. "Since when do we go to parties?"

Annie shrugged, tossing her hair over her shoulder like it was no big deal. "I guess since now."

They looked at each other across the room—Laura Lee in soft yellow, Annie Jo in light blue. The distance between them was short. But something else had opened up.

It wasn't judgment. Not exactly.

Just noticing.

Laura Lee smiled, small and uncertain. The kind of smile that didn't quite touch her eyes. Like she wanted to believe her sister's answer. Like she almost did.

"You didn't tell me what Pastor Miller said," she said after a moment. Soft. Like she was afraid the question might break something.

Annie Jo looked down.

The sunlight made bars on the floor, long and gold. They stretched between her feet like lines drawn in sand.

"It wasn't important," she said.

But her voice cracked—just barely.

And her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

The fellowship hall had been dressed up like it always was for celebrations—desperately trying to be something it wasn't. It wanted to be festive. It wanted to be holy. Instead, it felt like a school cafeteria playing dress-up, all vinyl tile floors and foldable partitions trying their best to disappear beneath white tablecloths and silk flower centerpieces stuck inside mason jars like they were doing hard time. Faux-lace runners trailed crookedly down each table, curling at the edges. Every place setting had a cardboard frame trimmed in gold paint and filled with a Bible verse, like a party favor and a warning all at once.

Be a light to others. Do not conform to the patterns of this world.

Above it all, the fluorescent lights buzzed like insects, unrelenting and cold, throwing a sterile, bluish cast across the room that made everyone's skin look pale and tired. Like ghosts trying too hard to smile.

Annie Jo stood near the cake table, her back stiff, a sheen of sweat gathering at the nape of her neck. She clutched a plastic knife in one hand—it was already sticky with melted frosting, the handle slippery. She hadn't taken a single bite. The sheet cake, proudly iced in curling pink letters, read Congratulations Laura Lee & Annie Jo! with a slightly off-center soccer ball drooping in buttercream. The heat from the lights had started to make it sag at the corners, like even the cake wanted to slip away from all this niceness.

The room was full of soft voices, plastic utensils clinking on paper plates, and the endless hum of lights. It was a familiar kind of noise: harmless, gentle, and completely exhausting.

Church folks floated past like polite phantoms, offering Dixie plates of cookies or punch in waxy cups, murmuring their congratulations like they were reciting blessings over dinner. The grown-ups all said the same things, with the same weather-worn smiles that stopped just short of their eyes. One after another, they came to shake her hand—deacons with stiff collars, Sunday school teachers with too-sweet perfume, choir ladies who smelled like cinnamon gum and Pond's cold cream.

"What a blessing you are."

"We're just so proud."

"The Lord is clearly working in you, sweetheart."

Each time, Annie Jo smiled. Each time, she said thank you, ma'am, or I appreciate that. Like reciting lines in a play she'd been cast in before she could walk. The words left her mouth like soap bubbles—light, delicate, and gone before they hit the ground.

Beside her, Laura Lee practically glowed. She had that effortless, soft-focus kind of grace that made people lean in. Her sundress was a pale butter-yellow, pressed smooth without a single wrinkle, and her yellow jean jacket. Her hair laid perfectly on her shoulders, a couple strands pulled back. She looked like a Sunday School illustration come to life—rosy, righteous, beloved. She moved through the crowd like she belonged to it, hugging folks, thanking them with genuine warmth, cheeks pink with joy.

Annie Jo tried to stand up straighter. She felt like a smudge beside her sister's golden light.

Their mother hovered behind them like a backstage manager, gently fussing with Annie Jo's sleeve, her voice low and tight. "You're doing fine. Just keep your shoulders back. Don't slouch, sweetheart."

"Yes, ma'am," Annie murmured, even as her spine ached from standing so straight.

Her father stood by the punch bowl, shoulder to shoulder with Pastor Miller. The two men laughed in low, knowing tones, like they were sharing a joke the rest of the world wasn't meant to hear. Annie had watched them laugh like that for years—behind pulpits, in Sunday School hallways, beside backyard grills. Confident. Untouchable.

Her dad was one of the ones who'd helped build this church—literally, with his own hands—after the last congregation split over a "doctrinal disagreement" four years ago,

That was the phrase they'd used.

What it meant was: the youth pastor had come out as a homosexual. And half the congregation had left.

No one talked about it anymore. But the silence itself had weight. The lesson had stuck. And it truly was a shame, Annie had taken a liking to the older man.

The cassette deck crackled in the corner, and soft organ music began to rise, its warbly pitch filling the corners of the fellowship hall like incense. Annie Jo caught little snatches of conversation from nearby tables—phrases like temptation, and living in sin, and that awful business out in California. Everything sounded soft and sweet and poisonous.

And then—

He walked in.

Thomas Fielding.

Button-down shirt tucked neatly into starched jeans, a braided leather belt pulled snug around his waist. His hair gleamed like plastic under the lights, stiff with gel. He looked like a boy in a church newsletter photo. Like something mass-produced to be someone's first crush.

He smiled as he approached, and Annie Jo could feel Laura Lee straighten beside her, like a sunflower tracking the sun.

"Annie Jo," Thomas said, voice warm, hands in his pockets. He smiled toward the older Chamber twin as well. "Laura Lee... congratulations. Y'all are really tearing it up this season."

"Oh," she said, caught mid-thought as Laura Lee gently jabbed her in the side. "Thanks."

"I mean it. You're fast. I've seen a couple games—my cousin's on JV. You've got moves."

Annie managed a polite smile. "It's a team sport."

He laughed, like she'd told a joke. "Sure, but every team's got a star."

His voice was low and even, the kind of voice that made girls giggle and younger boys try to mimic it. His eyes were kind. Truly. But the way he looked at her—soft, steady, like he was waiting for something—made her want to squirm out of her own skin.

"I told my mom I'd say hi," he added, rubbing the back of his neck. "She said we used to play together at the church picnic. Sprinklers. Popsicles. Water balloons. You remember?"

"Sort of," Annie said. A lie, maybe. Or maybe a memory worn down to fog.

"You've, uh..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "You've grown up a lot since then."

There it was. Perfectly polite. Perfectly practiced. And it landed on her like a brick.

"Thanks," she replied, voice flat and dry.

He gestured toward the cake table. "You look really nice tonight."

Annie Jo swallowed. Nothing fluttered. Nothing blushed. Her stomach didn't flip. If anything, she felt more aware of the sweat on her back, the cling of her dress, the ache in her temples. Her fingers curled restlessly at her sides.

"Thank you," she said, a little too quickly.

Thomas didn't flinch. Just shifted slightly closer, like he was leaning into something he thought was mutual. "You thinking about playing after high school? You've got the talent. For sure."

Annie looked toward the floor. "Maybe. Depends on a lot of things."

He nodded slowly, like he was about to say something meaningful. "Well... I hope I get to keep seeing you around."

Before she could respond, Laura Lee stepped in with a practiced brightness, noting the awkwardness. "Thomas," she said, voice lifting like a hymn. "Did you get any punch yet?"

Thomas turned, his smile quick to warm. "Not yet. You want to show me where it is?"

"You'll find it," she teased gently, eyes glancing toward Annie Jo like she'd done her part.

Annie blinked. Her throat was tight. Her hands itched again.

Nearby, the organist's wife was talking in low, earnest tones about her nephew who'd "struggled" with "a certain lifestyle." How he'd gone to a camp in Georgia and come back "changed."

Fixed, really.

Saved.

"They just need structure," she said. "And prayer. Lots of prayer."

"You love the sinner," someone else added, "but not the sin."

The words hit like cold water. Annie Jo didn't want to hear them. Didn't want to be here. Her whole body felt like it was vibrating, like something inside her was trying to break out.

And then—a honk.

Loud, unrepentant. A sharp, blaring horn note that cut across the fellowship hall like a firecracker.

The room paused. Heads turned toward the front windows. Forks hovered midair. Somewhere, a child stopped crying.

Annie Jo's heart slammed against her ribs.

She turned—and there, through the glass, illuminated by the orange glow of parking lot lights like an apparition from another world, stood Natalie.

Leaning against the hood of her Civic like she'd parked it there to make a point. One headlight was fogged over, the bumper was half hanging off, and the engine idled with a sound like a cat with something stuck in its throat. A half-scraped sticker on the back read HELLA RAD in cracked neon font.

She looked like every warning sign Annie Jo had ever been given to not be around.

Natalie's choppy blonde hair was windblown and wild, her leather jacket shrugged open over a fitted black polo with a white collar, tucked haphazardly into a red-and-black plaid skirt. Her fishnets were shredded, her boots scuffed and planted like she was daring someone to come outside and ask her what she was doing here. She lit a cigarette like it was a challenge, eyes scanning the building until they landed on Annie Jo.

Then—just a flick of her fingers. A lazy, two-fingered wave. Like: You coming, or what?

"She's here," Annie breathed, not realizing she'd said it aloud.

Laura Lee's eyes widened. "Already?"

Annie didn't answer. Her feet were already moving.

She stepped toward the exit, her church dress swaying around her knees. Laura Lee hesitated, caught between propriety and concern, her gaze flitting toward Thomas, who stood frozen near the cake table. Still smiling. Still hopeful.

He didn't follow.

Annie Jo didn't look back.

‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

The road narrowed into gravel and shadows. Pines pressed in on either side, thick as a wall, their jagged arms closing out the moonlight. Natalie drove like she wasn't afraid of anything—elbow hanging out the window, fingers tapping to the beat of the PJ Harvey cassette playing low and scratchy over the Civic's tired old speakers. Her Honda looked like it had survived a war: faded maroon paint oxidized to a matte pink in places, a bumper held on with duct tape, and the faint, permanent scent of stale smoke clinging to the upholstery, soaked so deep even open windows couldn't chase it out.

Annie Jo sat shotgun, knees pressed tight, fingers worrying the hem of her church dress. She still hadn't changed—there hadn't been time—and the starched collar itched against her throat. Her armpits prickled with dried sweat. Her tights bunched at the ankles, already sagging. Everything about her felt too proper, too scrubbed, too painfully out of place.

"You sure this is the right way?" Laura Lee asked from the backseat, voice clipped with nerves. She sat rigid, arms folded, her yellow denim jacket pulled tightly across her chest like it might serve as armor. Her eyes darted between the trees, the creeping dark. "We've been driving forever."

Natalie didn't look back. "I said it's up ahead. You'll hear it before you see it."

She was right.

A minute later, bass began to thrum faintly under the wheels, vibrating up from the forest floor like a second heartbeat. The smell of woodsmoke curled through the open windows, mingling with the sound of distant laughter and someone hollering, "Keg's tapped!"

The whole night shifted. It went loose-limbed and feral, like the woods themselves were letting go of their breath.

Then the trees broke, and the clearing opened up like a secret city. Orange firelight flickered against the trunks. Teenagers spilled from trucks and cars, parked in careless rows. Someone had dragged a half-finished bonfire out from a construction site—rebar still poking from the edges. The flames leapt ten feet high, casting shadows that danced like devils on the gravel.

"Welcome to the end of the world," Natalie muttered with a smirk, cutting the engine.

They climbed out.

Gravel shifted beneath Annie Jo's Mary Janes, sharp through her thin soles. She felt wrong instantly. Her dress clung to all the wrong places. Her tights were itchy. Everyone else wore denim, crop tops, flannel knotted around their hips. Combat boots kicked up dust. Beer sloshed over the rims of red Solo cups. It felt like stepping through a portal into someone else's life—one she hadn't earned the map to.

Laura Lee stood frozen beside the car, mouth slightly open. "We shouldn't be here," she said softly, like a warning—or a prayer.

Annie Jo didn't answer. Her heart beat in her ears, too loud. She didn't know where to look. A couple was making out behind a pickup truck. Someone passed a joint to a boy in a letterman jacket. A girl in a Yellowjackets hoodie spun barefoot in the grass, laughing like the sky couldn't touch her. The whole scene buzzed with chaos and hunger and heat.

Natalie led the way toward the fire, cigarette already lit. She moved with the kind of ease that didn't ask permission—hips swaying, boots crunching, her hair catching the firelight like smoke. Annie Jo followed, too stunned to speak.

They passed a knot of teammates—Van, Molly, Lottie, and Shauna clustered around the keg, cups already in hand. Taissa stood apart, posture sharp. Jackie perched on someone's tailgate, cup balanced delicately between two fingers, laughing like she owned the night.

"Oh great," Laura Lee muttered. "Everyone's here."

Annie Jo drifted toward the fire, drawn by its glow. Natalie crouched low beside the flames, cigarette dangling from her fingers. Her face, lit by the fire, was all cheekbone and shadow. When Annie Jo stopped beside her, their eyes met.

"You look like you're about to bolt," Natalie said, tone dry and teasing.

"I'm fine."

"You're not. You look like someone dropped you off on Mars."

Annie Jo laughed, but it came out thin. "I've just... never been to one of these."

Natalie shrugged, flicking ash into the dirt. "First time for everything."

She stood and stepped closer, shoulders brushing. Annie Jo inhaled instinctively—the smell of smoke and shampoo and something sharp underneath. A chill ran down her back. Not from the cold. From how close Natalie was standing.

Natalie tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. Then she dragged on her cigarette, exhaled, and flicked it near Annie Jo's feet. The ember sizzled.

"You cold?" she asked.

Annie Jo paused. Her dress did nothing to keep the night off her skin. But it wasn't just that—it was the looks. The whispers. The heaviness in her own chest. She shook her head.

"I'm okay," she said too fast.

Natalie didn't believe her.

She shrugged off her leather jacket—one smooth motion, practiced—and held it for a beat. The way she looked at Annie Jo was different now. Not teasing. Not smug. Just... quiet.

"Here," she said.

Before Annie Jo could protest, the jacket was around her shoulders. Heavy. Warm. It smelled like Natalie. Like cigarettes and rain and something sweeter underneath.

Annie Jo's breath hitched.

"Thanks," she whispered. "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to," Natalie said simply. She reached out—brushed a curl from Annie Jo's forehead, the touch featherlight. "You looked uncomfortable."

Annie Jo's lips parted. She couldn't make a sound.

Her throat had gone dry, like her body was trying to swallow a confession it didn't even have the words for. Natalie was looking at her—not teasing, not smug, just quiet. Open in a way that made Annie Jo feel too exposed.

"Guess I'm not great at hiding it," she managed eventually, her voice barely audible above the low thrum of music and fire.

Natalie gave a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Not from me, anyway."

Then she flicked her gaze toward the keg. "Well. I need a drink."

"I'll come with you," Annie Jo said, too quickly. The words left her before she had time to interrogate them—before the fear could win.

They walked shoulder to shoulder, close enough for Annie to feel the heat radiating off Natalie's arm. The leather jacket swallowed her body whole, the sleeves flopping over her hands. It was heavy and worn and unmistakably hers. It smelled like smoke and winter air and something earthy beneath it—like pine needles. The collar scratched against her neck, and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

Every step made Annie Jo hyperaware of her body—how it moved, how it brushed too close, how her hands twitched like they didn't know whether to stay hidden in the sleeves or reach for something they shouldn't. For a moment—just one hot, unbearable second—it felt like their fingers might brush.

Then—bam.

A sharp shoulder slammed into her, jolting her sideways into Natalie.

"Oh—sorry—" she gasped, stumbling.

Shauna.

But the Shipman girl didn't even pause. She barreled past them like a lit fuse, eyes glassy, expression fixed somewhere between fury and heartbreak.

"I admire your resilience, Tai," Shauna spat, loud enough to snap the air around them. "Can't be easy. Knowing you fucking crippled someone today."

Natalie straightened beside Annie, lips pursing, shoulders squaring as she stood slightly in front of the younger girl.

Taissa looked up from pouring her drink, making eye contact with Annie and Natalie, before slowly resting her eyes upon the brunette in front of her.

"Oh no," Annie Jo whispered, barely moving her lips.

Taissa stood fully, slowly, deliberately. Her voice was cold steel. "Cool... Good talk."

Shauna wasn't done. She marched closer, red in the face. "Just admit you did it on purpose."

Taissa's voice went lower, more dangerous. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Annie Jo felt the words rising in her throat before she could stop them. The dirty blonde walked past Natalie, moving closer to the arguing girls. "Shauna, you know it was an accident. A terrible one, but Tai didn't mean—"

"Shut the fuck up, Annie Jo."

The slap of those words landed harder than Shauna probably meant. They echoed inside her like thunder. Her face flamed. Molly and Laura Lee's heads turned in their direction, eyebrows shot up. That gathered the attention of Van and Lottie, who started edging closer to the scene with them.

Natalie stepped forward, body tense, voice tight and low as she glared at Shauna. "Hey. Back off."

Annie Jo's eyes darted to her, a flare of gratitude rising—and just as quickly, a sinking shame. Because even now, even in this mess, her first instinct was to lean toward Natalie.

Taissa's gaze swept over Shauna like a blade, scoffing. "You're wasted."

"And you're a fucking sociopath," Shauna hissed.

Van, Laura Lee, and Lottie edged closer. Molly let out a slow chuckle, then offered weakly, "Whoa, careful, Shipman. You can't just throw that word around. Somebody might get offended, y'know."

"No!" Shauna shouted, startling everyone. "Listen up, you guys, we don't have to worry about the Allie problem anymore—Taissa took care of it for us!"

Laura Lee blinked, confused. "What? What is she talking about?"

"She's talking about Taissa's little plan," Natalie said bitterly.

Taissa rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Since when do you care? Don't you have a bong to hit or a dick to suck?"

Annie Jo flinched like she'd been slapped. Her breath stuttered.

"Don't say that," she whispered, voice cracking around the words. It wasn't just disgust—it was panic, deep and coiled in her chest. That phrase was something she'd heard boys snicker in parking lots, spat out at girls who didn't dress modest enough at school. That kind of language didn't belong here. It didn't belong near Natalie. It didn't belong near her.

Taissa turned on her, eyes gleaming with something mean. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, mock-contrite. "Did I offend the good little Christian girl? What—gonna run home and ask your pastor what it means when you get all red-faced wearing Natalie's jacket?"

It landed like a bullet.

Annie Jo's breath hitched. Her face went white, then hot—blood rushing to her ears, the air sucked from her lungs. Around them, a hush fell, sharp and immediate. The group's eyes turned, looking at the leather jacket on the girl. Natalie stiffened beside her.

The sleeves of the jacket swallowed Annie's hands. Her shoulders hunched like she could disappear inside it, inside herself.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Laura Lee stared at her—hard. "What... what is she talking about?" she asked, voice pinched and unfamiliar.

"I—I don't know," Annie Jo said quickly, but it sounded fake even to her. Her tongue felt like paper. "She's just being cruel."

Taissa didn't back off. "Maybe next time don't make it so obvious. You're practically wearing the confession."

Natalie's jaw locked. "Back the fuck off," she said, low and dangerous.

Shauna stepped between them. "Leave them alone, Tai. This is about you."

"Oh, fuck off, Shauna," Natalie snapped, glaring at Shauna.

Annie Jo stared at the ground. The grass blurred. She could feel the weight of Laura Lee's gaze burning into her, full of something brittle—horror, maybe. She didn't know why she felt so ashamed.

Natalie's voice cut in again, sharper than before. "I don't need you to defend me. Last time I checked, you were fine with the whole freeze-her-out strategy."

Laura Lee tore her confused gaze away from her sister, looking back at Natalie. "Okay seriously—what are you talking about?"

"Shut the fuck up, Laura Lee!" Shauna and Tai snapped together.

Van intervened, trying to deescalate the situation. Now, more people's eyes were turned at the teams' raised voices. "No—no, stop it—"

Molly let out a long groan, folding her arms. "Jesus Christ. Did someone spike the drinks or what?"

Taissa growled, her eyes returning to the Shipman girl. "Somebody needs to take her wasted ass home."

"Say that again, bitch." Shauna fought back.

Van grabbed the brunette's arm, pulling her back. "Shauna, stop—"

"I will!" Taissa yelled, practically lunging against Van's other arm.

And then everything cracked open.

Mari shouting. Van pulling at Tai's sleeve, trying to calm her down. Laura Lee's clasping her hands together, praying. Annie Jo frozen, avoiding all contact with Natalie, who was standing eerily still, lost in thought. Molly leaned into Lottie with a muttered, "Okay, I'm taking bets. My money's on Shauna decking someone in the jaw."

Then—

"Catfight!" Randy bellowed from across the lot, gleeful.

That was it.

Jackie slammed her Solo cup down like a gavel. She stomped over, agitated to leave her boyfriend behind, steam practically coming out of her ears. "Enough! Yellowjackets, with me. Now."

The command hit like thunder. The crowd splintered.

Van tugged Tai backward. Lottie dragged Molly by the sleeve. Everyone stalked after the team captain, muttering under her breath. Laura Lee grabbed Annie Jo's wrist—gentle, but with an iron edge.

Natalie turned toward Annie Jo. Her mouth opened. Maybe she was going to say something—ask her to stay, even.

But Annie Jo stepped away.

Not because she didn't want to hear it.

Because she did.

Because if she stayed—if she let herself think about what Taissa said...She shook her head, following her sister, head bowed, jacket wrapped tight like armor, shame prickling hot behind her eyes.

Laura Lee leaned in, voice trembling. "Okay... seriously... what is happening right now?"

Annie Jo didn't answer.

She couldn't.

She just kept walking.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

You made it through Chapter Four (or at least Part One of it!) — thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this first half of the party scene; I promise Part Two will be up tomorrow evening. Not sure why Wattpad didn't publish the chapter days ago like it should have, but I appreciate your patience while I figured that out before transferring it here!

We're so close to finishing the pilot episode of Season One — it's wild to think how far we've come already comment, follow me, and repost so you won't miss what's next (and so more readers can find it too)!

Seriously, even just a quick "hi" in the comments makes my day. I love hearing your thoughts and theories.

Question of the Chapter: Who is your favorite character so far + why?

'Til next time !!!

#yellowjackets x oc #yellowjackets #yellowjackets oc #natalie scatorccio x oc #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x reader #travis martinez x oc #natalie scatorccio #fanfiction #wattpad #oc #original character #shauna shipman #travis martinez #jackie taylor

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averbaldumpingground · 6 months ago

Note

Maybe this will work for what you want: 'SIlver Springs' Fleetwood Mac

Fuck you. You are The Worst. I am also not going to properly tag this until you figure it out. Have I mentioned you suck? This is brought to you by that one performance video from like 1997 with all of the ridiculously loaded eye contact btw. Because that's kind of living rent free in my head. Edit: Adding tags now. I continue to be baffled.

It's just another night, another dingy, damp motel room off of I-695, south of Baltimore. He thinks the carpets here used to be green. They haven't been properly cleaned since the end of the Reagan administration. The first one.

His suit jacket's crumpled up over the back of a chair, still where he tossed it that morning. He really needs to do laundry. Not tonight though. Tonight...

The whiskey bottle's still exactly where he left it too, conveniently in reach on the corner of the nightstand. It's still mostly full. And barely a step above paint thinner.

There isn't any sense in wasting anything better. Not when it's him and his nightmare again.

One nightmare. Singular.

Always the same, ever since--

He slams the radio on, scrambles for the knob, trying to find something that isn't just thin, tinny static.

Britney Spears? No. Some rapper he doesn't recognize. What sounds like it might be an ABBA cover band. Which? He's not even sure why that would be a thing. REO Speedwag--

He groans when he recognizes the song. It's just a little too pointed. And not really any better than being alone with his thoughts.

He flops back on the bed and avoids looking at the liquor bottle. It's still to early for that. But Kevin Cronin must really have it out for him tonight.

He wonders if maybe he should have just stayed at the bar. Maybe even gone home with that waitress he'd spent the better part of two hours chatting up. Yeah. She was pretty. Long, wavy hair. Curvy in all the right places.

But then she had looked up at him, laughing, and he knew he that couldn't go through with it.

Not when her eyes weren't blue. Not when she just wasn't--

He doesn't bother trying to rationalize it to himself anymore. The whiskey really isn't any better than industrial cleaning solution, but he's already starting to feel the muscles in his shoulders unclench.

Good.

And yeah, maybe he is too old for this hangover bullshit. Maybe that's going to catch up with him one day. But tonight? He doesn't want to think about it anymore tonight.

He shuts the radio off. The light from the motel sign blinks, a dirty, muted yellow through the curtains.

If he gets drunk enough, maybe he won't even remember those words. Maybe--

It hasn't worked before. He always wakes up panicked, in a sweat.

#fanfiction #Supernatural #Dean Winchester #Destiel #I have never actually seen this show.#(Please don't kill me!)#Unlike some people who shall not be named but their identity should be obvious I have not been completely oblivious to the internet though.#Original tags following after this:#Not 100% happy with this btw.#And not just because you're evil.#January 9 2025

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eikonoklast · 9 months ago

Text

Day 28 (Deleterious): Silver and Gold

“So you come to an underground spring. The glowing ethereal blue water shimmers and a faerie rises from the depths. She implores you to offer up your Silver Axe and if you do so she may grant you favor. Do you accept?”

Minimas narrated dramatically, using a tiny electrope board to simulate the lights and setting of the cave he'd placed Silver's player character in. They were sitting on the floor of Minimas’ apartment waiting for Alphinaud and Alisaie to get there so they could go to the arcade. In the meantime, Minimas wanted to introduce his friend to a game he liked. He held up a light under his face, his red eyes gleaming mischievously as he no doubt considered ways to trick his quarry.

Silver decided not to bite. “What if I like my Silver Axe?”

Minimas paused, annoyed, “Dude it's just a Silver Axe. It could be a Gold or Platinum Axe instead if you roll high enough. It's much easier to kill monsters with a better weapon,” he explained.

“Silver's a nice color.”

Minimas opened his mouth but no words came out. He sat there for a moment, clearly trying to figure out what to say, and Silver laughed. “What do you want me to say to that!?” Minimas finally responded, flustered. His ears were red with frustration. “That it's ugly?”

Silver leaned forward, his large dark pupils gleaming in the shadowy room, reflecting the light like mirrors. “You sound like you also prefer the Silver Axe,” he said, grinning.

“This isn't about aesthetics, you dork. But if you perish, then so be it,” he said the second phrase in his narrator voice, closing his eyes and folding his arms in a haughty pose. “You-”

“Can I still give the faerie something?”

“What?” Minimas deflated instantly, like a popped balloon.

“She's alone down here, too,” Silver explained. “Is there something she'd like? I found a bead necklace in that chest. I don't need it back or anything, right?”

Minimas massaged his temples. “She's not a person, man she's an NPC. Non-Playable Character. She is just a random chance event that you lucked into and decided to not take advantage of.”

“Why would I take advantage of being lucky enough to meet someone?”

“Are you being obtuse on purpose?”

Silver grinned, “Maybe. It's a valid question though.”

Minimas considered for a moment. “Alright. So you want to offer up your Lost Necklace? What if it's a quest item?”

“Well maybe she's the one it belongs to.”

The lalafell rolled his eyes and balled his fists. “Playing games with a wiseass, over here,” he said to no one in particular through gritted teeth. Silver flashed him another grin. “Ok so you toss the necklace into the spring. Roll.”

“12.”

“With your luck modifier that's still just a 12 so…” Minimas thought for a moment. “She returns the beads to you in a chain - all clean and new. She braids them in your hair and thanks you, but she is worried no one will be able to see her under the water. So she thinks it will be better off with you. It has a strength bonus attached with her enchantment.”

“See? A new Axe really wasn't all that necessary, was it?” he smirked, resting his chin in his palm with a toothy smile.

“You are incorrigible.”

“Oooh, big word, little man.”

Minimas flung himself across the board, tackling his friend. The two rolled themselves up into the nest of blankets that sat on the floor, Silver covering Minimas and sitting on the edges, laughing.

“Do you yield!?” Silver yelled, feeling self-assured.

“Why would I?” Minimas shot back, indignant. His voice was muffled under the sheet and Silver laughed, staying put.

Under the blanket Minimas heaved upward, sending Silver sprawling across the carpet. The miqo'te lay there, trying and failing to catch his breath from laughing, Minimas finally joining him. The lalafell walked over and put a foot on his friend's chest, proudly proclaiming, “And so it was that our poor hero lay defeated at the feet of the Demon King! Never again would this realm see the light of day!”

“Alright, alright, you got me,” Silver breathed. He lay his arms on the floor and tilted his head to the side with a smile, still panting. His eyes wandered around from his low vantage point and he sighed, turning back to the ceiling. Minimas removed his foot, collapsing onto the carpet next to his friend.

“Hey Minimas,” Silver asked suddenly, “Have you ever actually seen the sun? Like, not a hologram. The real one.”

“Nah,” Minimas said. He closed his eyes. “I hear it feels warm. It's always been storming though. So the sun just doesn't get through.”

“I'd like to go outside the barrier and see it,” Silver said, smiling.

“You can't look at the sun, moron.”

“Why not?”

“It'll burn your eyes outta your skull or something like that.”

“So you're telling me that there's a shining thing that people can't look at just…up there behind the clouds? Wouldn't that make just looking up dangerous?” Silver mused. “The hologram doesn't hurt my eyes. I could take it,” he joked.

“I mean I guess so. I don't think I've ever thought about it that hard,” Minimas responded, rolling over onto his belly and propping his head on his arms. “You're kind've asking the wrong guy here.”

Silver turned his head to look at him. “Let's go find out sometime. Might be nice to go check out Shaaloani. I hear there's some high-up spots you can go to. Look down on the world under you. Like a tall building with a view.” He looked back at the ceiling thoughtfully. “We'd be closer to the sun up there.”

“I'll go with you this time,” Minimas promised. “I know you don't remember but I didn't join you before and...I regret it. So if you don't mind me tagging along we could go together.”

Silver sighed. “I'd like that. Together, then.”

Author's Note: Just gonna use today to take a brief breath and enjoy the moment. Tbh maybe it's a bit of a swing but the word ‘deleterious’ is like, this whole story I've been doing lmao But it ties into this in an interesting way. I want to sort've…shine a light on a different kind of harm, here. Specifically the immense harm we can cause through our actions even when our intentions are good and honest and pure. I'm being critical of Chiteni here: there's a whole lot of people who - in his desire to protect them - he himself ended up harming. And however you perceive Silver in this, it's important to understand my WoL hurt himself in a way, too. Because he's going to carry the weight of it. He's a deeply flawed person just like anyone, and it's important to look at the consequences of your actions and take responsibility for them, even if you didn't mean something the way it went down.

I think it's just as easy to see in these happy little moments. Just how much it would hurt.

#ffxivwrite2024 #original character #ffxiv #silver bullet #jabberwocky #ffxiv arcadion #day 28

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lovebillyhargrove · 2 years ago

Text

Wake me up when July is around

Chapter 16/?

Falling, burning, like a star

Billy's listening to "Trapped under ice" and "Fade to black" by Metallica (album "Ride the lightning" released in 1984)

***

The way February rolls in, it's moody, ill-tempered.

There are strong piercing winds stinging Billy's face, cutting through his jacket, making him shiver with bitter cold. Their dreary howls constantly remind him of how much he wants to escape from this place.

And how much he can't.

Ice rains come together with the gusty winds. They cover everything in an icy crust, and

Tommy wasn't kidding. Black ice that happens, is the worst thing possible.

On a day like that Billy slips and almost falls down the second after leaving the house, then the moment he starts his car and sets it in motion, it begins fucking sliding. Billy's never tried skating, but that's probably how it feels - skating and spinning on a fucking ice-rink. What he's experiencing cannot be identified as driving.

Tommy has been going on about changing tires since November - for winter ones, but Billy didn't listen. He didn't want to spend money on the new tires that he would only need for three months, and there's no point in buying them now with only one winter month left to survive.

He probably should've paid attention to Hagan's words, shouldn't have been so careless about it.

After reeling to school, Billy then almost wipes out on the way to the building. Shit, that would've been embarrassing. Years of surfing and always finding the balance have helped him, but it's a formidable challenge.

Sullen skies that have swallowed all of Hawkins drive Billy up the wall. He needs sunshine, but there isn't a single ray of it.

The low heavy sky, overcast with colourless clouds, weighs down on him, like a coffin lid that's gonna close soon.

The fuck is this weather. When is it gonna finish.

The goddamn frozen land - wherever you look - puts Billy into comatose slumber but sometimes his lethargic state is disturbed, and he's woken up from it only to choke on his own bile.

He's already on edge, but it feels like everything around is pushing him further and further, he no longer has any ground left under his feet, he can hear the stones falling down, the cliff is biting the soles of his shoes. He's just an inch away from going down.

It's supposed to be sunnier in spring.

***

Neil is just perfect at making Billy's mood better. Always bringing that vibrancy in, you know? Shaking the gloom off, keeping him entertained.

This time Billy gets an after-dinner dessert, brought to his room, no less, on a fucking silver platter.

The moment Billy closes the door to his room, it's being thrown open again. Neil storms inside, seizes his son by the scruff of the neck and pulls. Like a naughty little pet who made a mess on the carpet. When Billy was younger Neil often dragged him like that by the ear. He has stopped with the ear, that's good. But Billy's collar, neck, sometimes even hair is still an option.

Billy doesn't even understand why this is happening, he's scrambling to remember what he has done wrong today.

His dad drags him into the kitchen where Susan is putting away what was left after dinner in the fridge.

"Son, say thank you for the food and apologize for your behaviour."

Oh, that. Did Billy not thank Susan?

Crap. That's right, he forgot.

"Neil, honey, please, it's okay, really." Susan is looking at her husband, smiling nervously, hoping to dissolve the tension. She is not looking at Billy.

"Who cooks for the family?"

"Susan." Billy's voice is quiet. He didn't expect any of that

"Does Susan also clean the house?"

"Yes."

Neil is so quick at giving him a little backhanded slap in the side of his head

"Speak up, like a man, not like a damn pansy!"

Billy's raising his voice. Like a man

"Yes, sir."

"Do we provide food for the family?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do we pay for the house? Keep the roof over your head?"

Billy wants to scream. Yes, goddamn it, YES !! you do all these things, for fucks sake

He's taking deep breaths through his nose, trying to collect himself.

"You do, sir."

"That's right. So where is your gratitude, son?"

"Thank you. Sir. Thank you, Susan. The dinner was delicious. I am sorry I forgot to say it right away. It won't happen again."

Billy talks staring down, at the floor. He can't look up at Susan or he'll burst into fucking helpless tears.

Everything that he's been working so hard at .. his muscles, his strength

His badness

All his ideas about taking responsibility for his own life. Being adult.

It all goes to shit every time Neil shows his power.

Billy feels so small

He's almost 18, and he still feels like a little kid who is morbidly, gut-wrenchingly

Afraid of his dad. Whose heart crumbles in the face of his father. He freezes up, paralyzed with fear

What does dad want from him? What does he want ?? It was just once, that he forgot to say the fucking thank you, why does it feel like he's commited a fucking crime??

Why is Billy such a coward? Why is he so scared? Why can't he stand up for himself, fucking once?

He's not strong enough for that.

Who is he trying to fool. Until he's out of here, he'll always be a snotty kid getting slapped around by his dad for every tiniest thing, it'll never change

"Go to your room, you ungrateful bastard. And don't you ever forget to thank those who make your useless life possible."

Billy shuffles back and quietly closes the door.

Susan, how can you love him, don't you see who he is, how can you sleep in the same bed with him

Susan doesn't have a problem with this. Billy is not her son. Billy is nobody to her.

The thing is, he, indeed, forgot this simple routine. Left the table without showing courtesy.

It was all Harrington's fault, of course.

During dinner Billy kept racking his brain over the possibility of it being Steve, slipping the damn note into his pocket.

The whole weekend that follows finding it

Billy is not himself. He's working on the beamer in Old Joe's garage, but everything is falling out of his hands, he literally has to force himself to concentrate on the job.

"Are you okay, kid?"

"Yeah, never better. Thanks, Mr. Dailey."

Get the fuck away from my head, Steve

Why the fuck does this jackass keep throwing him off balance?

Why is Billy so sure it's Harrington who left that note?

He isn't. It can be Jennifer. Or Alison, a pretty junior who they've been exchanging interested looks with for quite a while now.

But I really want it to be him.

Of fucking course Billy doesn't call. He still respects himself that much.

At home, he comes near the phone, stares at it

Itching to dial the number. Almost slapping his own hands away.

He can just call and hang up. Just uh .. to hear the voice on the other end of the line.

Make sure it's Steve.

No, this is stupid.

Billy is dying to pick the receiver up, and feels extra fucking stupid too. Look at him, turning into a pining bitch. His heart sinks when he imagines that he is calling and Harrington answers, says something pretentious like

"Harrington residence."

And Billy's gonna say

"Hey dickhead. Why did you leave your number in my pocket?"

What do you want?

And then Steve will ask him

"You wanna come over?"

No he's not gonna say that. Maybe his parents are home for the weekend. Hargrove has heard it from Tommy that Steve's folks are often away, dad has a business in Indianapolis or something like that.

He'll probably say

"Want to hang out?"

Want to kiss me again?

And Billy will be like

"Why not, dumbass."

He'll smile into the receiver as he will hear Steve's soft

"Alright .. uhm .."

Stop ! The fuck is this? He's having imaginary conversations with Harrington, for real now??

It's like there's this want .. this confusing yearning, the inexplicable hunger, rising from within, spreading all over his insides.

That's new.

Fucking hell in flames.

Calm the fuck down, Billy.

It’s not at all clear who put the note into his pocket. Maybe it’s a chick, maybe it's some kind of a prank, Vicky can be plotting something against him, cause Tina once said she's still heartbroken, it can literally be anyone and anything, but Billy is already drooling over the idea that it's Harrington.

Hargrove, seriously man, you need to chill. Take a step back. Switch gears. Be careful. There's black ice on the road. You need to get back in control. Drive with caution.

Let's fight fire with fire.

On Sunday evening, after driving himself to the point of madness, and after finishing his shift, Billy goes behind the repair shop, takes out the note, puts it in a bucket and flicks the lighter. It burns bright for a second, and Billy kicks the bucket, letting the wind blow away the ash.

***

So Monday is another Ice day. Let's roll, motherfuckers.

When Max jumps into the car to get her spoiled ass driven to school, she bangs the camaro door too loud, and Billy hits the roof.

Grabs her by the hand, squeezes like he wants to break it and tells her in a sweet menacing voice

"Bang it one more time, Maxine, and I'll cut your fingers off. Or will chop off your whole hand, do you hear me?"

And like, okay he can slam the door too. Any time.

Billy loves his baby but he's not gentle with it

But Max shouldn't do it. He drives her around, adjusts his own schedule to fit hers and she fucking slams the door? As a thank you?

Just recently the meaning of gratitude has been explained to Billy, and Max looks as if she's in need of a demonstration as well

The little rat glares at him, hatred in her feral icy blue eyes

"God, you're such an asshole!"

She's on the verge of crying, but she's not gonna. They are similar this way.

She just rubs her wrist pitifully and mutters quietly

"I have no idea why El .. Jane even likes you. You're a total dick."

Billy doesn't give a shit what she's mumbling there. Just stop banging the fucking door, Maxine, be on time, and we'll be alright till summer. After July comes we'll be perfect because we won't ever see each other's faces again.

He turns the car stereo on, inserts the tape.

I don't know how to live through this hell

Max groans, closing her ears

"Oh noooo, turn it off !!"

Frozen soul, frozen down to the core

Break the ice, I can't take anymore

Hargrove cranks the volume to the maximum.

No-one knows, no-one hears what I say

"BILLY !!!"

Cry out, I'm trapped under ice

He shows her the middle finger.

Max pulls the hat down her ears and face, covers her head with the hood of her winter jacket, throws arms over it and slumps in the seat.

Yeah. That's better.

Wrapped up tight, cannot move, can't break free

Cry out, I'm trapped under ice

***

Also on Monday he skips the last class - Español - and smokes pot with Tommy. It's freezing under the bleachers with all the blustery winds whistling around, so they take it to Billy's car. It's a fucking smoke house on wheels, the camaro, shaking from the deep bass

Life it seems, will fade away

Drifting further every day

Windows all fogged up, and the two boys get so stoned, they don't even understand someone's knocking on the windshield to get their attention.

Getting lost within myself

Nothing matters no one else

It's Carol.

"Oh hey baby." Hagan opens the door, a goofy smile spreading over half of his face. "How you been?"

Carol sizes him up and sighs

"I've been fine, Tommy." There's no point in mocking a stoned boyfriend

Emptiness is filling me

To the point of agony

Growing darkness taking dawn

"Jesus, what are you even listening to?"

Billy's turning the music down

"Did Delgado give us shit for not being in class?"

"Nah. Not much."

Tommy is turning to Hargrove who's just sitting there staring at the roof of the camaro

"See, I told you man."

They are both giggling and Tommy is reaching out for a fist bump

"We got away with it. I think we're just lucky."

Carol's rolling her eyes like, you dumb idiots.

"It's not pure luck, Tommy. I told Ms. Delgado you have diarrhea," -

both guys are close to asphyxiation cause they are wheezing

"And Billy had to drive you home cause your car wouldn't start in the morning and you had no chance of driving home yourself. Now get the hell away from the parking lot before she sees you two."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hagan wipes off the tears and gets out of the Camaro.

"Also, I don't think she's gonna go after you, Billy. You aced the last test."

Tommy is looking at her with a question in his eyes

"You didn't, baby."

When Hagan drapes himself over his girlfriend and they walk away in the direction of Tommy's ford, Max materializes near the passenger's door.

"Billy, open the windows! It stinks! I'm underage, I can't be breathing this smoke!"

Stop fucking pestering, Maxine.

"You can't drive when you're stoned. I don't want to die because you're a drug addict."

Tough luck, Maxine.

"Are you gonna say something?"

First, enough with the damn yapping. It's the gremlin's annoying mouth just going yap yap yap yap

Jeeesus.

Also.

He kinda wants to really say something to her to make it a bit better between them after he so violently grabbed her wrist in the morning. But then it's like fuck no.

Max throws her hands up in a desperate cry out to dull leaden heavens to ask for .. what? To pierce Billy with a lightning bolt?

And drops onto the seat.

Billy suddenly wonders if he's gonna miss his dad when he gets out of here. After all, it's his only family. Maybe there will come a time when Billy's gonna call Neil for Christmas.

Weed makes you think weird things, huh

***

These days Billy gets another disturbing dream about his mother. They never even happened so often any more. He almost stopped having them during the last year when he was still in California, but here the wound seems to have started bleeding again.

It's perplexing too, cause it's not like Billy started thinking about his mother more. He's made peace with his situation, if you can ever make peace with something like that. All the tears are left in childhood. All the pain has dulled itself.

Billy is six or seven, a little happy boy, he can feel happiness living inside him

He is running on the beach after his mom, they are playing catch, that's what they are doing, right? But it's the same like with the dream where he was trying to reach her in the cold ocean,

He's running and chasing her till he can't anymore, but no matter how hard he tries, he's not able to catch up with her. She then vanishes out of sight completely and Billy is left standing on the shore all alone. He can hear his heart breaking, like shattered glass, like a little explosion within. He presses his hands close to his chest trying to hold his heart together. It hurts, everything hurts, and when he looks down at his hands, they are covered in bright red blood. He can still hear the sound of glass being crushed when he opens his eyes in the middle of the night.

Billy involuntarily touches his chest.

Everything is fine. He turns the bedside lamp on, looks at his hands. Of course, there is no blood.

It's just a bad dream. It's okay.

The happiness is gone, but at least his heart beats like it usually does.

***

Steve's watching Nancy smile at Jonathan. They are standing near her locker, talking about something, Byers' hand cupping her elbow.

It's not jealousy, no. King Steve and princess Nancy, they weren't meant to be. End of the fairy tale.

He doesn't have a problem with it anymore. Their story wrote itself and came to an end.

It's more like emptiness.

Nancy seems happy with her new boyfriend. Shared trauma and everything. Harrington wonders, who's gonna share his frigging trauma?

Steve's feeling good, all things considered. He has come round a new mind set to follow - if the world is close to ending he might as well enjoy his every day and not turn himself into a paranoid crybaby, hiding in the corner of his room.

Every morning he rises and spends not less than an hour on making himself shine. He looks extra good, he's stopped brooding.

Steve Harrington is a total catch, nothing has changed that, and the senior year still means that he has the right to have fun. In fact, it's written in the constitution. Pursuit of happiness, or something.

On Saturday evening Steve does what he's been meaning to do for weeks now - he takes Nicole out on a date. Steve's without the car temporarily but that's what friends are for - Tommy lends him the ford. They go to a diner and kiss for half an hour in the backseat of Hagan's Lovemobil, as Tommy called it before handing the keys over to Harrington.

Steve is excited and super horny, and his cock definitely wants to go all the way, Nicole doesn't seem to mind, but his parents are at home, and it's not very comfortable in the Lovemobil, after all.

So they take a raincheck. It's even better this way, Steve has always preferred to prolong the feeling of chase.

Hargrove doesn't call at the weekend.

Of course it was Harrington who slipped the sheet of paper with his phone number in Billy's jacket pocket. Duh.The dude left it on the bench in the locker room, while he was soaping up his ass in the showers, and Steve acted on impulse.

After the date when Steve's back home, he asks his mom

"Hey, did anyone call me while I was out?"

"Yes, honey."

Oh my god, really? He actually called ??

Californian badboy took the bait, he is hooked

"It was uh .. Mr. Dailey? From the car repair shop?"

Oh.

Oh okay.

"Did he leave a message?"

"Yes, he said they had a delivery today in the morning. Your new windshield has arrived."

"Great! It means I'm going to get my car back soon! Yesss! Thanks, mom."

On Monday morning his parents are leaving for Indianapolis, and Steve's sort of glad they are.

He throws a small private party on Tuesday, for close friends only - Tommy, Carol and Nicole.

While Tommy is like

"Let's invite Hargrove, yeah?"

Steve is not psyched about the idea

"I was thinking, it's only couples this time, Tommy. I've got plans."

Hagan winks at him in understanding and lets it go, although he really likes it when Billy is around.

The party turns out great. Just what the doctor ordered. Nicole lied to her parents that she's having a sleepover at Carol's, so they have all night.

***

Once again, Hawkins high has something new to chew on.

Steve Harrington finally got over the painful breakup with Nancy Wheeler who's full on dating Jonathan Byers now.

He's free and on the market again .. or .. wait a second? Is that Nicole Anderson who King Steve is kissing on the way to school on Thursday morning?

Uh-oh, ladies, looks like one of the most popular guys at Hawkins High is taken again. Unless, it's nothing serious? Stay tuned to find out!

So it's Thursday, and something else happens in the parking lot, something that is not for everyone to see.

It's only a couple of minutes before the first period, most people are already inside the school, and there are only a few students left, in a hurry to get to class. Nobody wants a tardy.

Steve's walking with Nicole towards the entrance, right arm thrown over her shoulder, new lovebirds alright, and he's turning his head, spotting Hargrove smoking near the camaro, watching them like a hawk. The guy's puffing as if he's mad at the cigarette.

Why didn't he call?

Harrington's not gonna lie, such indifference has wounded his pride a bit. Maybe Hargrove needs a little incentive. Maybe he didn't understand it was a note from Steve.

He double checks that no-one's around to accidentally catch sight of what he's about to do.

The parking lot is clear.

Harrington's deep hazel meets Hargrove's changeable blue, and they hold the gaze. Steve brings his left hand to his face and makes the "phone" gesture with it, mouthing "call me" and smiling.

Fucking smiling. Fleeting, lustful. Like a personal invitation.

Like the fucking asshole that he is.

Billy can't believe what he's seeing. The cigarette stub burns his fingers.

Is Harrington for real ??

So it was him, whose phone number Billy slapped himself from dialing. Hargrove's sixth sense didn't let him down.

Fucking "call me"? In broad daylight?

The rich brat is completely off the rails. What if someone else sees it? He's hugging a girl, for fuck's sake!

Billy has heard the rumours. He knows that Nicole stayed overnight at the king's castle from Tuesday to Wednesday. Maybe it's gonna turn into a regular thing. By the looks of it, it might, and there's a sour taste spreading in Hargrove's mouth.

He doesn't wait long to start fighting the black snake coiling in his chest.

Jennifer's face lights up when he catches her by her locker before the second period

"Hey, sweetheart."

Billy leans on the nearby locker and looks at the girl like he's head over heels in love with her. He hates doing it to her, but he also needs it for his own sanity.

They go out to a pizza place on Saturday evening, Jennifer is sparkling with joy, she's been waiting for it for ages, apparently. The pleasant evening leads to kissing in the camaro, and Billy's letting the girl believe they are at the start of something wonderful.

He doesn't forget to ask for her phone number.

On Monday the whole situation gets a bit ugly, cause Vicky who, in all likelihood, still hasn't recovered from their breakup with Billy - it wasn't a breakup, they just stopped seeing each other -

Intercepts Jennifer on her way to the table where Billy's sitting waiting and

Oopsie, Hargrove's new girl's tray goes flying up and while her lunch is on the floor, the cola is all over her fluffly white sweater

"You skanky bitch! You think you can get away with stealing someone else's guy like that?"

Jennifer turns out to be no coward and gets her sharp claws in Vicky's frizzy hair

"He was never yours, you stupid cow!"

Fucking shit. Billy's springing up to his feet, trying to hold Jennifer back and thinks he might be done with girls altogether.

Of course, teachers interfere and both screaming guilty parties get taken to the principal's office.

Tommy watches Hargrove in awe. No girl has ever fought over him like that.

Even Harrington's lips are parted in amusement like he's watching a very entertaining performance.

***

For the record, Hargrove wasn't only busy breaking girls' hearts these days. He's also been working like crazy on Harrington's beamer. Billy promised him a week and a half, two at most.

On the same Monday during one of the breaks between classes, when Steve is hugging his new fucking girlfriend near the science lab, Billy comes up to him

"The car is ready, Harrington."

He hates the name.

"Come pick it up."

Steve's smile blinds Billy, stuns him. For a couple of seconds he can't see anything around him.

"That's awesome, man! I'll come by after school, yeah? Can't wait to get it back!"

He kisses Nicole on the cheek

And it's like. A fucking dagger in Billy's throat

He hates, hates, hates him so much.

***

In the afternoon Steve and Tommy arrive for the beamer.

Harrington looks like a little boy opening a Christmas present he's found under the tree. Billy can see, he's happy with the result of - mostly - his work.

There's some .. intangible tension in the air. Like .. the two boys want to say something to each other, more than what they are actually saying, but Tommy is there, and unspoken words electrify the air around.

Tommy could totally get into his ford and drive away. He's not catching on.

Steve settles business with Mr. Dailey and leaves some extra money. A tip for Hargrove.

Billy's eyes follow Harrington getting in the beamer, the asshole waves his hand at him. He's over the moon, it's obvious. Who wouldn't be, Billy's done a terrific job.

Hargrove doesn't want a tip, what he wants is to jump in the car with Steve, ride shotgun, watch his movements while he's driving, his hands on the steering wheel, and one on the gearshift

Does he look confident when he's on the road, does he look different

Even prettier, even hotter than he is

A generous fucking tip, actually. It burns his hand, the 100-dollar bill.

Fucking rich people. Billy deserves it, and more. He took care of every fucking inch of that beamer, it looks brand new now. So why does he want to shove this money deep into Harrington's preppy ass? Why does he feel uneasy accepting it?

Billy doesn't put it with the rest of his stash at home. He puts it in the glove compartment instead,

And curses the unceasing inner turmoil that's been fraying his entire being.

***

They are sitting at different tables in the lunch hall. Billy is surrounded by people, his hand is on Jennifer's shoulder. They are smiling and laughing and, except for Vicky's agonising gaze across the hall, everything is good.

Harrington is with his usual company, hand around Nicole's waist. They are talking about some unimportant stuff, and yeah

Life is nice and easy.

Not a single soul notices

All the side glances, thrown casually

An invisible thread, thin as a cobweb

Connecting them, so fragile, so easy to be torn.

They are nobody to each other.

They've put lips on lips three times

Each one for his own reasons.

If you ask Harrington, he'll say he was - probably still is - looking for distraction and generally can't be held accountable for anything these days. Aside from the usual problems every senior student has to face, he went through a rather earth-shattering breakup and, also, on top of that, learnt that monsters are real.

Steve would honestly just say "monster" as an excuse for anything now

"Mr. Harrington, why haven't you done your project assignment? It was due yesterday."

"You should've seen the monster, Ms. Babcock. Massive. Terrifying. Can you push the deadline for me a bit?"

"Steve, honey, why didn't you unload the dishwasher? I asked you to give me a hand?"

"The monster, mom. Can we install bullet proof everything in the house, I actually think it might help me sleep better at night?"

"Harrington! Why the fuck did you suck face with Hargrove for the third time? You gay, or what?"

"Tommy, my brother. Gay or no gay, it makes no difference for the monster. You should've seen the thing."

Too bad he can't talk about it with anyone. The creature, and the kisses.

Obviously, no living soul should know about the kisses, all three of them.

It seems as if Steve has so many secrets these days.

***

If Billy was the one to open up, it would be something like

It's only to make the year more bearable and

I have this need sometimes and

Did you know that about Billy Hargrove -

I always do what I want, no-one's the boss of me.

But, honestly, Billy doesn't quite know anymore. The excuse to make the time go faster in this shithole sounds especially weak.

Something else is happening, and Hargrove doesn't like it.

He might be kissing a new girl, but Harrington is always on his mind.

In classes, depending on who is sitting behind

The gaze of that boy every once in a while lingers on the broad back of the other.

Eyes quickly averted to find another object to look at.

They are both so young

Both so clueless

Of fate, having set certain tiny gears, cogs and wheels in motion

And of how the future might unfold.

***

Billy's eyes are closing, his lids are heavy, heavy with exhaustion. It's a seesaw, just like on a kids playground. Billy's down, feet touching the ground, and he's trying to talk some sense into his own self.

Realistically, nothing can come out of it, right?

Realistically, Billy doesn't need it.

Realistically, Harrington is just a capricious bitch. He kissed Hargrove on a whim cause he was going through stuff with his ex-girlfriend. It's not gonna go any further than than. Maybe Steve's still in love with Wheeler, and that's just part of his game while he's trying to win her back.

Billy is a rational person.

When the night comes, before falling asleep Billy replays the finishing day in his head, recalling its various moments. What Harrington was wearing, how he smiled, how he took a drag of a cigarette, standing near his shiny BMW, how he answered some stupid shit in Literature class and sneakily pulled out a cheat sheet during the test in History, how he again jerked his long hairy legs in front of Billy's nose during basketball practice.

Billy also wants to smoke with Harrington and chat about something. Tell him how he took his time levelling out the dents on Steve's car, how carefully he was spraying the paint, almost lovingly, making sure everything looks great, impeccable. How glad Billy was when the windshield was delivered on time, as it had been planned.

Hargrove even kisses Jennifer while hugging her in the lunch hall, only for Harrington to see, to make him look his way.

Pay fucking attention. It's not like you mean anything to me. Are you jealous, pretty boy?

Cause I'm not.

Everything is fine with Jennifer, she’s a nice-looking girl, with her full lips and soft bouncy tits. She sometimes talks too much, some bullshit Billy's not even listening to half the time, and again, just like Vicky, she loves discussing prom, what the fuck is wrong with chicks going insane over stupid prom, all these conversations make Billy sick and tired.

That's okay cause he couldn't care less.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with Jennifer, but for some reason Billy's dick doesn't get as hard for her as it does for King fucking Harrington.

Billy really wants to punch him in his beautiful face.

Why does the asshole have to be so beautiful.

Billy has seen more handsome guys in California, but he's never found anyone's face so beguilingly attractive.

Then grab him bullyingly by his stupid polo or his expensive fucking cashmere sweater and drag him into an empty room, a lab or the janitor's closet, rough him up a little, push, squeeze

And kiss him to death.

Tug him closer by the waistband of his pants. Unbuckle the belt. Unbutton. Unzip. Pull the pants down a little to make space for his movements. Slide the hand in Steve's underwear, into the heat.

Put his hand on his dick and make him cum in his boxer briefs

Watch how he closes his eyes during orgasm, how his Adam’s apple dances and twitches under the skin, the tender skin of his neck, smooth like velvet, thin like silk when he moans quietly and trembles under Billy’s hands,

Listen to the sounds escaping his pretty lips, kissing them, kissing them, kissing them

The seesaw soars up, Billy's heart drops, and all sensible thoughts go to hell.

There is nothing rational about him thinking about Harrington. There is no point.

And yet,

Billy is hard again.

He knows the drill.

#harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove slow burn #billy x steve #harringrove high school shenanigans

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silvermaidsdubai11 · 9 days ago

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cleaningsilverspring · 4 months ago

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Rug Cleaning Silver Spring: Extend the Life of Your Rugs

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procleanmd · 6 months ago

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reviewnaillounge · 9 days ago

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Nail Color Trends for Summer 2025: Fresh, Bold & Beautiful Picks

Summer 2025 is all about bold self-expression, playful colors, and a fresh take on classics. From chrome reinventions to juicy neons and soft pastels, this season’s nail color trends reflect the vibrant energy of summer fashion while also offering tones that flatter every skin tone and style. Whether you're heading to a beach party or a rooftop brunch in San Diego, your nails are a subtle but powerful way to stay on-trend.

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Spring’s romance doesn’t stop there – these floral-inspired shades carry gracefully into summer. They pair beautifully with both casual linen outfits and elegant summer dresses.

4. Icy Blue & Sky Tones

These cool hues reflect the open skies and ocean waves of summer. Icy blue nails evoke a refreshing vibe, especially when paired with pearl or chrome topcoats.

5. Earthy Neutrals & Sandstone Beige

For minimalists, neutral doesn't mean boring. Summer 2025 brings in creamy tans, soft browns, and sandy beiges that flatter all skin tones and look effortlessly polished.

6. Neon Pops – Lime Green, Tangerine, Aqua

Bold neon shades are back in a big way. These energetic colors are perfect for short nails and modern nail art like swirls or French tips.

7. Clean White & Sheer Milky Nails

A timeless summer go-to, white and milky nails make hands appear younger, brighter, and cleaner. Bonus: they match literally everything.

Trending Nail Art Pairings for Summer 2025

Pair your chosen shade with modern nail art for extra style points:

Gradient Ombres in pastels or vivid colors

Abstract Swirls in dual tones (neon + neutral)

Botanical Designs like palm leaves or florals

Chrome-Neon Fusion for edgy aesthetics

To explore trending nail art looks, browse the Nail Boss Gallery for design inspiration straight from our talented team.

FAQs: Your Summer 2025 Nail Color Questions Answered

What are the hot nail colors for summer 2025?

Top trending shades include pastel chrome, neon tangerine, coral pink, icy blue, and lilac.

What color should I paint my nails for 2025?

That depends on your style! Try soft lavender or beige for elegance, neons for bold energy, or chrome for futuristic glam.

Are chrome nails still in summer 2025?

Yes – but they're evolving. Think pastel chrome, colored metallics, and subtle iridescent overlays.

What nail color makes hands look younger?

Sheer milky tones, light pinks, and clean whites reflect light and give your hands a fresher, youthful look.

Final Thoughts: Let Your Nails Speak Summer 2025

Whether you're experimenting with neon artistry or embracing the elegance of neutral tones, nail color trends for summer 2025 offer something for every personality. At Nail Boss San Diego, we bring trend-driven manicures to life with a luxurious touch, tailored to your style.

Ready to refresh your summer look? Visit us at 10450 Friars Rd Suite D, San Diego, CA 92120 – or book your appointment today and experience why Nail Boss is San Diego’s go-to nail destination.

#nailsalon #naildesigns #nailsart #naildesign #selfcare #nail salon

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whimsicalemberninja · 12 days ago

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Luxe Sky Blue Formal Dress with Deep V-Neck

https://manhattandress.com/

Channel timeless sophistication with this striking light blue evening gown - an incredible hybrid of elegant, edgy, and streamlined design! Made for the modern woman that shows, with elegance and poise, what it means to command attention. This gown is more than just clothing; it represents a vision of style, confidence, and elevated femininity.

Design & Cut The gown features a clean halter neckline that into a dramatic plunging V-cut which showcases the difference between sophisticated and sexy. The bodice is a fitted piece that precisely conforms to the curves of the body, all while elongating the torso. Cut-outs just under the arms add some modern-edginess by exposing just the slightest skin, but all the while remaining chic, elegant, and classy.

The piece teeters between inviting and elegant courtesy of its backless halter strap design. The structure keeps things sensual without crossing the line, making it versatile enough for fancy evening galas, formal weddings, proms, or a red-carpet affair.

You'll love the light ice blue: calm, clear, and luxurious! Blue flatters most of skin tones and is fresh and young. Light blue is regarded as a classic - tied to elegance and tranquility - and it is a perennial favorite in spring and summer formal events.

The fabric is a stretch-satin or scuba crepe (production-dependent), so it provides just the right balance of structure and stretch. It hugs in all the right places with a skimming fit that drapes as you walk.

The dress's backless halter design keeps it straddling the line of inviting and elegant and that also makes it versatile for dozens of occasions like formal galas, fancy weddings, proms, or even a red carpet.

You will love the light ice blue: calm, clear, and luxurious! Blue compliments nearly all skin tones, while feeling fresh and youthful. Light blue is considered classic - linked to elegance and tranquility - and a perennial favorite for spring and summer formal events.

The fabric is stretch-satin or scuba crepe (dependent on production), allowing it to have the perfect structure and stretch. It hugs in all the right places, with a skimming fit that cascades as you walk.

Dressing tips Wear this gown with silver or nude stilettos for even more leg elongation from the slit, and don't forget to minimize your accessories (one statement bracelet or drop earrings) so that the gown can remain the focal point of your look. A fitted clutch, and soft curls (as seen in the photo) round out a look worthy of a red carpet!

Whether your makeup calls for soft glam, or bold red lips, this gown could take different directions based on the occasion! The cool tone of the dress makes it versatile for both pastel palette styling and strong contrasting hues.

Occasions to Wear

This gown is perfect for:

Prom nights

Formal gala dinners

Bridesmaid wear (for modern weddings)

Pageants

Engagement parties

High-fashion photoshoots

Evening cocktails and black-tie events

Its universally flattering shape and cool-toned shade make it a reliable choice for any formal celebration that calls for head-turning glamour.

Body Inclusivity Because of its minimal construction and stretchy fabric, this gown can fit a large variety of body types. It features a halter neck style which elongates the shoulder and neck, while a deep V draws the eye downwards - giving a lengthened torso appearance. The slit in the skirt high up the leg accentuates that long leg length. Femmes of all sizes and heights will find something they love about this piece, especially if they love a fresh, modern edge to classic femininity.

Care & Maintenance Due to the quality of the gown, dry cleaning is recommended only. Store in a cool, dry, and dark garment bag to maintain the color and elasticity of the fabric. Iron cautiously - a garment steam is the ideal way to get wrinkles out of due to high risk of shine or fabric damage in this garment when using heat directly.

Light Blue Evening Gown

Halter Neck Gown

Deep V Neck Dress

High Slit Formal Dress

Prom Dress 2025

Ice Blue Formal Gown

Mermaid Style Dress

Backless Gown

Elegant Party Dress

Floor Length Gown

#EveningGown #LightBlueDress #PromDress2025 #ElegantStyle #HalterNeckDress #DeepVNeck #BacklessGown #HighSlitDress #MermaidGown #FormalWear #ChicAndClassy #ModernElegance #GlamLook #RedCarpetStyle #BridesmaidGoals #eveningelegance

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owenking7415 · 2 months ago

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Oases of Calm: Crafting Your Dream Poolside Escape

The allure of a sparkling pool in your own backyard is undeniable. It whispers of sun-drenched afternoons, refreshing dips on balmy evenings, and the joyous laughter of family and friends. But a truly exceptional pool area transcends mere functionality; it becomes an extension of your living space, a personal sanctuary where beauty and practicality intertwine. This is where thoughtful landscaping and expertly crafted decking come into play, transforming your pool from a simple amenity into a breathtaking centrepiece of your outdoor living.

In the unique and often dramatic climate of New Zealand, creating this poolside haven requires a nuanced approach. It’s about selecting plants that not only thrive in the local conditions but also enhance the aesthetic appeal and functionality of the space. And it’s about choosing decking materials that can withstand the elements while providing a safe, stylish, and comfortable surround for your aquatic retreat.

Green Dreams: Landscaping Your Poolside Paradise

The plants you choose to surround your pool can dramatically impact the overall atmosphere. Lush greenery can create a sense of privacy and seclusion, vibrant colours can inject energy and vibrancy, and fragrant blooms can tantalise the senses. However, in New Zealand, it’s crucial to consider factors like salt tolerance (if you have a saltwater pool or live near the coast), resistance to strong winds, and the amount of sunlight the area receives.

Think about the textures and forms you want to create. Elegant palms, such as the Nikau palm, can lend a touch of tropical sophistication, while hardy ferns like the Ponga (silver fern) offer a distinctly New Zealand charm and thrive in shadier spots. Consider the flowering seasons of different plants to ensure year-round visual interest. The vibrant reds of Pohutukawa in summer, the delicate whites of Manuka, and the cheerful yellows of Kowhai in spring can create a dynamic and ever-changing backdrop.

Groundcovers like creeping thyme or native Dichondra can soften hard edges and provide a lush carpet of green, while carefully placed shrubs like Hebes offer structure and bursts of colour. It’s also wise to consider plants that are low-maintenance and won’t shed excessive leaves or flowers directly into the pool, saving you time on cleaning.

Beyond aesthetics, landscaping can also play a vital role in functionality. Strategically placed trees and shrubs can provide welcome shade during the hottest parts of the day, while natural screening can offer privacy from neighbouring properties. Consider the flow of movement around the pool area, ensuring pathways are clear and accessible.

Stepping into Style: The Art of Pool Decking

The decking surrounding your pool is more than just a walkway; it’s an integral part of the overall design and a crucial element for safety and comfort. The right decking material can elevate the visual appeal of your pool area, seamlessly blending with the landscaping and your home’s architecture.

Timber decking remains a popular choice, offering a natural warmth and timeless elegance. Options like Kwila (Merbau) and Vitex are known for their durability and resistance to the elements, making them well-suited to the New Zealand climate. However, regular maintenance, such as oiling, is essential to preserve their beauty and longevity.

Composite decking has emerged as a compelling alternative, offering the aesthetic appeal of timber with significantly reduced maintenance requirements. Made from a blend of recycled wood fibres and plastics, composite decking is highly resistant to fading, staining, and warping, making it a practical and long-lasting choice for poolside areas. It also often boasts excellent slip resistance, a crucial safety feature around water.

For a more contemporary look, consider options like natural stone or concrete pavers. These materials offer a robust and sophisticated feel and can be chosen in a variety of colours and textures to complement your design vision. Proper sealing is essential for stone and concrete to prevent staining and water damage.

The design of your pool decking is just as important as the material. Consider the size and shape of your pool and the surrounding area. A wider deck can provide ample space for sun loungers, outdoor dining furniture, and entertaining guests, effectively extending your living space outdoors. Incorporating different levels or built-in seating can add visual interest and functionality.

Think about the transitions between the decking and the surrounding landscaping. Softening the edges with planting pockets or creating seamless level changes can enhance the flow and create a more integrated feel. Consider the placement of access points and pathways to ensure ease of movement around the pool area.

Bringing it All Together: Creating Your Outdoor Sanctuary

The magic truly happens when the landscaping and decking work in harmony. Imagine stepping out onto a beautifully crafted timber deck, the warm wood underfoot, surrounded by lush, vibrant greenery. The gentle rustling of leaves and the sparkling blue of the water create a sense of tranquillity and escape.

Whether you envision a tropical paradise, a sleek and modern oasis, or a natural and rustic retreat, careful planning and the right choices of plants and materials are key. Consider the overall style of your home and garden, and let your personal taste guide your decisions.

Investing in quality landscaping and decking solutions will not only enhance the visual appeal of your pool area but also significantly improve its functionality and your enjoyment of your outdoor space. It’s about creating a seamless transition between your indoor and outdoor living, a place where you can relax, entertain, and create lasting memories.

In the diverse and beautiful landscape of New Zealand, your poolside escape awaits – a carefully curated blend of nature and craftsmanship designed to bring you years of enjoyment and a true sense of outdoor serenity. It's an investment in your lifestyle, a transformation that turns your backyard into a cherished oasis of calm.

From Ordinary Plunge Pool to Extraordinary Paradise? Discover the secrets to transforming your New Zealand backyard into a breathtaking poolside sanctuary! Learn how clever landscaping with climate-smart plants and stunning, durable decking can create the ultimate outdoor escape. Dive in to unlock the potential of your pool area!

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