#I also need to go read fifty pages before bed so I can keep chipping away at my absurd book goal

[essektheylyss]

I am writing a thousand words of this wip a day and ONLY a thousand words of this wip a day, dammit. This year I will enforce some goddamn moderation if it kills me (and frankly, it might).

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily 

Summary:

Emily Prentiss, college sophomore, absolutely does not have a crush on the girl across the hall.  

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months. 

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

“Come in, it’s open!” Emily Prentiss yelled out over her music blasting out of the laptop on her desk. She was listening to her pregame playlist, which was chock full of throwbacks, middle-school jams and of course, The Killers to keep things interesting.

Derek Morgan pushed open her dorm room door and waltzed in. He had a pair of light blue jeans on, held up by a brown belt, with a white t-shirt on top. He jumped on top of Emily’s slightly-too-high bed, and bounced as he grinned at her. Derek was many things, shy was definitely not one of them.

“You look hot,” Emily said, with as much sarcasm as she could manage, looking him up and down. She could tell he dressed up.

“You know it, princess.”

Rifling through his backpack, he grinned as he pulled out two blue college-branded metal water bottles, filled with what was probably not water at all.

“I made us sangria!”

Emily laughed, then spun back around in her desk chair. She still needed to finish her makeup. She had her foundation and eyebrows done, but she needed to focus as she applied her eyeliner.

“Did you just mix some juice into the wine?” She asked, taking the bottle from him, having a sip of the fruity liquid.

“Yup! There’s going to be a keg there, but I wanted to give us options.”

Emily laughed before focusing on her mascara wand gliding across her lower eyelashes, trying to finish up so they could start preing for the party. She wasn’t quite dressed yet either, still wearing her class jeans and not her going out jeans (there was an important distinction between these that mostly involved whether or not she could wear them with a belt.) Morgan was about five minutes earlier than she expected. Moreover, the boy had only sprung the invitation to the party during their lab that afternoon.

As much as she hated to admit it, Derek was basically 90% of Emily’s non-academic social life, the second year boy already very well connected due to his football scholarship, letting him in on all of the good parties. Unfortunately that also meant for Emily that he would spring themed parties like anything but clothes, or no cups allowed on her with absolutely no heads up most weekends.

Emily will not wear a tote bag as a skirt again if she can help it.

Despite the excessive drinking and mixed bag of party attendees, Emily genuinely enjoyed the boy’s company. Anyways, he was the best beer-pong partner that she’s ever had.

“Can I hop on aux?” He asked, leaning over her computer before she could even protest.

“Sure,” she replied, knowing he was already on his own Spotify account and putting on his playlist titled ‘FOR THE BOYS and emily’ that he found hilarious. She knew she could get him to sing along to the Mamma Mia! (2008) soundtrack once he was a few shots in, but for now she resigned herself to wordless EDM.

He sat on her desk, bobbing his head along to the beat.

Emily reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a smallish bottle of vodka and two shot glasses, with their college’s crest etched into the glass. For a school that denounced drinking-culture, they had a shocking amount of merch for sale that encouraged it.

She filled each to the line, and slid one towards her friend.

“Bottoms up,” she said, as they cheersed the foul tasting liquid. Morgan grinned and winked at her before shooting it back with the confidence that only a nineteen year old could have.

Vodka still made her queasy, but being underage meant that the college students would take what they could get. Morgan’s senior friends would boot alcohol for them for an extra five bucks, but only every few weeks.

The one thing about the states that Emily still couldn’t wrap her head around was the backwards alcohol policy. Almost everywhere else on earth she would already be legally drinking. Hell, when she was 16 she was passed out in a ditch in rural England, drunk off her ass on legally acquired beer. Even now, if they drove north of the border, Emily could be off to the bars, no questions asked. America was absurd.

“How was the rest of your day?” Emily asked him as she stood up, digging through her dirty laundry to find her other pair of jeans. She tossed aside her fuzzy pjs, a bra and an assortment of band tees but her jeans must’ve been at the bottom. She needed to do laundry but was ripe out of quarters.

“Eh,” he made a face, “I had to finish up that quiz for psych, but honestly I just needed to catch up on some readings. I had like fifty pages of a badly scanned book from like a hundred years ago to annotate.”

“Reading? In this economy?” Emily snarked at him, still rooting through the bin. She knew her blue jeans were here somewhere.

“Well I know you can’t read,” he replied in a haughty tone, “doesn’t mean the rest of us have to remain unenlightened!”

“Ha-ha.”

There they were, right at the bottom of the bin. She changed right then, with Morgan politely averting his eyes, despite the fact that both have seen just about everything in the year or so that they’ve been acquainted.

No, they didn’t hook up or anything, it wasn’t like that.

It was the strange phenomenon that only could happen in college where you get really close really fast. Emily’s RA had explained it to their first-year floor, likening it to soldiers in the war (Emily wasn’t sure if the metaphor was kosher, but it was apt.). Young adults first starting out in the world, free from their family supervision and previous lives, cling on to those around them for stability. The RA explained this as in a cautionary tale, explaining that this can lead to high emotions, to fights, and… a bit more.

This talk led into their floor-cest talk, which was apparently required in every co-ed dorm at their school. Emily was the first to point out the heteronormativity in that policy. Floor-cest, for the uninitiated, was the concept of hooking up with someone on your floor in the dorm. It was formally discouraged by residence life staff. It was easy to have meaningless sex, harder when you have sex with someone you live down the hall from. Things could get messy.

Emily and Derek got this talk on move in day, both sitting cross-legged on the floor of their common room as their RA, a bubbly girl named Carol, explained the fundamentals of dorm life. Emily has been dropped off by her mother’s driver, who helped her unload her things.

Emily was still reeling from being surrounded by happy families, of crying parents and bitter that her mother was too busy to even send her own daughter off to school. Not that Emily wanted her there or anything, but the gesture would have been nice.

She remembered the startling moment when Derek walked straight into her room and offered his hand, introducing himself to his new neighbour.

They shared a wall, the co-ed bathroom down the hall, and most of their free time for their first year at college.

He had assumed that the driver, Paul who was one of Emily’s favourites out of her mother’s staff, was Emily’s father, which started things off on an awkward note. Soon she was swept up in a whirlwind of his family: his mom and sisters who insisted that Emily pose for photos of Derek and ‘his new dorm friend.’

A year later, Emily and Morgan were basically siblings. Emily didn’t actually have any siblings, but after going to Chicago for thanksgiving with the Morgan family, she was pretty sure she had officially been adopted.

Last year, they had a much nicer dorm, one of the newer ones with big windows and nice common spaces. This year they were both living in the oldest residence, a beautiful red brick building, covered with ivy, but the inside was all painted this gross beige, and the paint would chip off whenever Emily tried to hang her posters. There was also no air conditioning, the showers didn’t get too hot and the kitchen smelt like eggs. It was definitely a downgrade, but at least Morgan was on the same floor as her again.

Morgan had lucked out and gotten a corner room with tons of windows, and Emily was right next to the bathroom and could hear when anyone flushed.

After donning the jeans and a black tank top, Emily grabbed her leather jacket and they were ready to go.

“Another shot?” Derek asked, grinning at her mischievously.

“Of course,” Emily said. “Where are we even going anyways?”

“Well, you remember David, the TA from our psych lab? His housemates are throwing a party in their backyard. I heard there was going to be a DJ!”

“David Rossi?” Emily said incredulously, “How did you swing an invite to that?”

“I can’t reveal all of my secrets, you know that pretty lady.”

Emily scoffed. It was probably through their mutual friend Aaron Hotchner, who despite not being much of a partier, was very in the loop about the happenings on campus.

“Did you invite you know who?” Derek asked, a bit too casually as Emily locked her door.

Emily refused to bite.

“She definitely has better things to do than hang out with the likes of us.”

---

“I’m a criminology major,” Emily repeated, the exasperation in her voice palatable.

The boy, who was on the rugby team as she already learned, had asked her what her major was. He misheard her and began asking her how she likes studying biology.

The music was loud and the boy was clearly wasted off his ass. She was pretty sure she saw him do a keg stand in the kitchen earlier.

Emily took another sip of her drink, keeping it close to her chest. She looked around. They were only five minutes off campus at a decent-sized student house. The room was close to being at capacity, the old home creaking under the weight of dozens of students crammed into the living room. Music blared on a strangely impressive speaker system. The party was at its peak in the backyard, and was probably only an hour from being shut down by the cops if it got much louder.

Emily had carefully positioned herself next to the open window, enjoying the slight breeze as the body heat was making the old house steamy with humidity. This also happened to be the location of the bong, but she accepted the trade-off.

Derek was currently playing king’s cup, a game Emily refuses to play, since last time she got roped into it she lost miserably. She was forced to drink the king’s cup: a mixture of shitty beer, whiskey, cider wine and whole cream from the fridge, as she had been a bit too slow with bouncing the ball into the red solo cup. Derek held her hair back as she puked off the porch that night.

Never again.

Emily squinted as a few people she recognized walked into the room. It was only a month into classes, so she really hadn’t had the opportunity to get to know the new random assortment of people in her building, lectures and in her general orbit but she was pretty sure she was starting to recognize some faces.

Entering the party was the blonde from the end of the hallway who always complimented Emily on her outfits when she passed and had the most colourfully decorated dorm in the entire building. ‘Penelope G.’ read her name tag pinned to her door in their RA’s loopy handwriting.

Next to her was a younger boy that she had seen in the cafeteria with Penelope before, and while Emily wasn’t that good at identifying ages, he definitely looked a bit too young to be at college. He was tall, skinny and had a mop of unruly brown hair. He was also wearing a sweater to a house party, which was a major beginners mistake. He looked around nervously.

A few seconds later, the door closed, only dumping an assortment of other boys into the already packed house.

Emily let out a breath she didn’t know she held, as she found herself hoping that Garcia’s other friend might have been joining her that night.

Derek had teased her already about the girl across the hall. Jennifer Jareau. “My friends call me JJ,” she had said. Second year varsity soccer player and communications major. The girl Derek was convinced that Emily had a crush on.

JJ was the kind of girl who propped her door open during orientation week and always waved at Emily when she walked down the hall.

She did not have a crush. She barely knew anything about her besides that she was blonde, athletic and was always smiling. Both had been so busy since school had started, and seemed to have completely opposite schedules that they hadn’t really gotten to really connect.

Whenever Emily was coming back to their floor, JJ always seemed to be leaving. And vice versa. Somehow they were on exact opposite schedules. Probably since JJ was a varsity soccer player with early morning practise, and Emily was a bit of a night owl (that was a polite way of saying insomniac procrastinator perfectionist.)

She seemed to hang out with Garcia around residence, Emily having spotted the two getting coffee or studying in the library together occasionally, hence Emily’s hopes that Garcia may have JJ in tow that evening.

JJ was also definitely, one hundred percent, completely straight. Fairy lights and Polaroid pictures on her walls straight. She even had a high school sweetheart that might survive the turkey dumping season. Emily didn’t know his name but JJ said the key word early on in the year: boyfriend.

Emily turned back to the boy in front of her, who was describing, in detail, how the stock market worked, without realizing that Emily was not paying attention at all.

He was quite conventionally attractive, with mussed curly hair and broad shoulders. He obviously was interested in her—or rather interested in talking at her and potentially sleeping with her—that despite herself, Emily decided to slot him into her roster for that evening.

Emily considered herself a reluctant bisexual. Women could make her heart skip a beat just by looking in her direction, and men could get it when the situation was right and she didn’t have any other options. The second half of this pleased her mother to no end, as when young fourteen year old Emily Prentiss had decided to come out to her mother—at one of their rare dinners together—she watched her mother grit her teeth and tell her to keep that to herself. Her mother had eventually accepted this part of her daughter’s life, but only under the assumption that Emily would eventually end up with a man, and keep the rest to herself.

Emily looked around the room and wondered if she was going to have any other options that evening besides the very talkative boy.

Excusing herself from the company of…Matthew, she thinks was his name, she tries to find Derek, who had disappeared into the kitchen. Emily weaved through the crowd, steering past a couple making out in the corner.

She turned the corner and found Derek filling his cup with more beer from the keg. He grinned up at her and did the same for her.

“I hate beer,” Emily said to him, grimacing at the scratchy taste of the fermented barley in her red solo cup.

“Suck it up buttercup, you’re in college. You also complained about the juice from earlier.”

“Yeah well, watering down eleven percent wine is as bad as this five percent crap.”

“It did taste a lot better,” he agreed. “Who was that guy?”

Emily rolled her eyes.

“Matthew attempted to explain macroeconomics to me.”

“Oh god, is that what men are like out there?” He asked. “Guess you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“Lucky me.”

“Pong?” He asked, gesturing towards the row of tables set up in the backyard, through the open door and passed the crowd milling about near the speakers. The game seemed to be wrapping up, as the two teams shook hands and reset the cups to their original positions.

“Always.”

They found their spot at one of the tables across from their new opponents: Penelope and her very young looking friend.

“Penelope Garcia?” Derek grinned, recognizing the girl from their floor and walking up to her for a hug. Their rooms were facing each other, and they had apparently gotten the chance to get to know each other.

She grinned and hugged him, clearly a lot more sober than him having only arrived minutes earlier. There seemed to be a lot of hugging at house parties, Emily discovered when she moved to America, acquaintances became close friends once alcohol was involved.

She had bright pink glasses and a matching dress, with bright artfully done make-up highlighting her large smile. Emily knew that she was a CompSci major and had loaded her dorm room desk with monitors and the largest computer set-up that Emily had seen in her life.

“Derek, my love,” Penelope replied, gushing over Emily’s friend in an unexpected, but not unsurprising way. “Fancy meeting you here! And Emily! Have you two met my fine young friend here, Spencer?”

She gestured to the boy, who waved awkwardly.

“Hi, I’m Spencer Reid,” he said.

“He’s like a boy-genius or something. He already has a degree in mathematics and he’s currently working on his second degree in engineering. Isn’t that très cool? We met at the club fair last week.”

“I’m double majoring in philosophy,” he added.

“How old are you kid?” Morgan asked him, quick to the punch.

“Uh- sixteen?” Spencer seemed to ask, shrinking into himself a bit. “I skipped a couple of grades.”

He had a pair of glasses perched on his nose, a brown sweater with a white shirt collar poking through and had tucked his brown hair behind his ears. He was still taller than Penelope, but the smattering of acne and wide eyes made it clear that he was very much a kid.

“More than a couple!” Morgan exclaimed.

He shrugged.

“Are you in intro to logic with Williams?” Emily asked, realizing that she had recognized him from somewhere.

“Yes, I am. Though I find his repeated chess metaphors a touch reductive.”

“You’re right about that. Like, we get it Willy, you play chess. Big whoop,” Emily said, then introduced herself.

He smiled at her, slightly less awkwardly this time but with a touch more confusion.

“And this is Derek Morgan,” Penelope piped in, “the most gorgeous football player I know.”

“Do you know any other football players?” Spencer asked.

“Now you hush!” She admonished him. “We have a game to play.”

“Do you two have something to drink?” Derek asked them, moving back towards their side of the long fold-up table, which was crudely painted in their schools colours.

Emily took a sip of her beer, wondering if the boy should be drinking.

Penelope babbled about how it was Spencer’s first college party, and how she was so excited that it was this one because look at the pretty string lights decorating the backyard and the fact that there was a keg, like in the movies.

Smiling at her new neighbour, Emily thought that this might also be Penelope's first college party.

Derek returned with a cup of water for Spencer, and some beer for Penelope. Spencer seemed relieved at the gesture, smiling as he took a sip. Emily marvelled at her friend's kindness, despite what anyone said about drinking culture on campuses either way, it was tough to attend a party and not drink, putting his drink in a matching red cup gave him the appearance of participation.

“Do we all know the rules?” Derek asked.

“The question you should ask,” Emily said, “Is if they’re willing to play by your rules.”

Emily had discovered that this game, depending on the people you were playing with, had radically different rules. While the premise of the game remained the same: there were six cups on each side of the table, into which you threw ping pong balls and whenever you got a ball in a cup, that cup was then taken out of the picture until there were no cups left. Depending on who you were playing with, the cups were filled with water or beer (Emily hated when they had beer in them, it make things sticky and it was very unsanitary), there were specific rules to what defined an airball, when one could get balls back, when you could call island and what was a permissible trick shot.

“Ha ha Prentiss,” Derek said to her, rolling the ping pong ball in his hands. “I wanted to know if they had played before.”

“Oh I’ve played before,” Penelope said, “and I am unbeatable.”

She waggled her fingers in a gesture that implied magic was involved.

“It’s simple physics,” Spencer added, “I’ve memorized the rules and common approaches. We’ll be more than fine. ”

“Ok pretty boy, let’s see what you’ve got. Eye to eye?”

Looking into each other’s eyes, rather than at their targets, the two boys aimed at the cups, with only Reid’s making it in.

“What the fuck Morgan,” Emily exclaimed as Penelope and Spencer whooped, “what even was that throw?”

With the other team having won the privilege of starting first, Emily was forced to toss her ball towards Penelope, who took it with a grin.

She threw first, missing the table entirely.

“Air ball!” Derek announced, leaping forward and waving his hands in front of the cups on their side, the rules granting him the ability to defend their territory.

Spencer frowned, apparently perturbed by this turn of events. He stuck out his tongue, aimed, and launched the ball, hitting Morgan right in the chest. The ball bounced off of it and fell straight down into the cup.

Derek’s draw dropped. Spencer and Penelope whooped in excitement.

“Derek, how did you lose us that cup?” Emily whined, pulling one of their cups to the side. One point to Spencer.

Derek, who had something to prove, lined up his shot. He gazed at his targets with the focus of a sniper, dunked the ball into one of their cups, dousing it with water, and rolled it in his hands, giving it a bit more weight. He aimed and fired off a quick shot into the centre-left cup. It spun around in the cup, floating above the water, but fell in. If the other team were crafty, they would have blown into the cup and Derek would have lost the point, but Emily sighed in relief when she realized that despite their first point, they didn’t know the rules well enough to beat the current reigning beer champs.

It was Emily’s turn. She took a gulp of her beer—she would always swear she was better when she was drunk because she didn’t think too hard about it—and threw. It neatly fell into the back right cup, scoring them two points for that round.

“Balls back!” Derek roared in delight.

Penelope tossed them, and the game continued.

They sunk one more shot on their turn. 3-1.

Penelope got another cup, Spencer missed. 3-2.

Derek’s ball bounced out, Emily sank hers. 4-2.

Only minutes later, after playing at breakneck speed, there were three cups left on the table and Derek and Emily were quite drunk, with Penelope not far behind. Reid, still very sober, was matching the duo with intense concentration.

It was his throw, with two cups left until his victory. He shots carefully, sinking it without a splash.

Derek and Emily had one cup to go. He went first, sending one barreling towards the cup. It hit the rim and instead of going in, it bounced towards Emily, who leaped forward and grabbed it before it fell off the table.

“Trick shot!” She yelled. Derek could try again, but only if he does it in an inventive way. At the frat house they spent a lot of time in first year, the only acceptable trick shot (under this house’s rules) was bouncing the ball off a poster of Obama. This time, Derek takes an empty cup, puts the ball in, and uses the cup to aim.

Somehow, it went in.

They leap into the air, yelling with delight. But they hadn’t won yet. The other team still had a redemption shot.

“How ya feeling kid?” Derek taunted, “Wanna give up now, save yourself the embarrassment?”

“Not a chance.”

He squinted at the table, lining up his shot with precision. With his left hand he licked his finger, sticking it up in the air like golfers do to measure the wind. Emily wasn't sure if this was a joke, something to psych Derek out, or something the boy was genuinely able to do. He frowned, seeming to ponder the information.

He aimed. He tossed it. He sunk the redemption shot.

They were in overtime.

“You can do it princess,” Derek told her, watching her with utmost intensity. Emily adjusted her stance, chugging back the last of that glass of beer, feeling the alcohol with greater focus than before.

She glanced around at the other team, but out of the corner of her eye she caught a familiar face looking at her: Jennifer Jareau from residence. Her not crush.

She was looking at her. Watching her play.

A swell of nervousness flooded up through her lungs, and she forced it out by huffing a breath.

She needed another drink. Moreover, she needed to focus.

Emily threw it. If it made it in, then they won. If she missed, Spencer and Garcia had another shot at redemption. They couldn’t lose this, not now, not in front of… uh, everyone. She was definitely not thinking about JJ in this situation. That would be something a frat boy thought about. She didn’t want to win beer pong to impress some girl, she wanted to win because she had pride.

The ball sailed through the air, Emily held her breath. It caught the lip of the cup, teetered. A splash announced that they had won.

Thank god.

With a whoop, realizing what they had done, Emily and Derek roared with joy, jumping into each other and hugging in their celebration. A few onlookers clapped, noticing how close the game had been.

They pulled apart and reached out their hands to their opponents.

“Great game,” Emily said, shaking Spencer's hand, “Really.”

He grinned despite his loss.

“Honestly I understand the principles, it’s simple parabolas and high-school level physics,” he frowned, “Unfortunately, I need to work on translating those parabolas into the real world.”

“We’ll work on it Spence,” Garcia grinned, shaking Emily’s hand while smiling at her younger friend.

Emily realized that in their celebration, Derek had spilled quite a bit of beer onto Emily’s sleeve and down the side of her shirt and it was currently dripping onto her boots. Emily sighed, handing her friend her cup.

“I’ve got beer all over me,” Emily sighed, “Get me a refill? I’m going to try to find a bathroom.”

Derek nodded and turned back to their new friends, chatting about how impressed he was with their game.

Emily felt a bit sticky, feeling the beer coat her bare arm. Walking back into the house, she glanced at the kitchen sink trying to see if there was any paper towel or something there, but no luck. The sink was full of dishes, the counters covered in assorted empties and cups, without a dishcloth in sight. Not wanting to rifle through their drawers, she made her way towards the staircase.

There was a couple making out on the staircase, which was not something Emily would do herself. It seemed a bit precarious since alcohol was involved, but, to each their own, she thought. Emily opened a couple of the doors upstairs before discovering one of the most disgusting washrooms she’d ever seen.

There was only one thing in the shower: dawn dish soap. The boys who lived here must use that for their bodies. Emily shuddered. On the sink were some toothbrushes, razors and some floss, but for some reason, no soap. Emily found a roll of toilet paper on the floor (ew), and wadded it up to try to reduce the wet spot on her side and hopefully from smelling like a brewery when she returned to residence.

For a moment, Emily found herself gazing at herself in the mirror, feeling hazy and a bit unsteady. She checked her make-up, noting that her dark red lipstick was holding up, but her mascara had smudged under her eyes giving her more of a goth vibe than the alt look she typically went for.

Emily sat down on the tub, patting the toilet paper against her wet clothing, feeling very drunk now that she was seated. Dammit Morgan, couldn’t he have spilled his beer on himself instead of her nice shirt?

The thud of the music was muffled, but there was a ringing in her ears that made everything feel very quiet. That was until there was a thundering of footsteps and the sound of a girl announcing: “I’m going to vom, right now.”

Emily sat, jaw dropped, as a red headed girl threw open the bathroom door, kneeled down on the floor next to the toilet, and relieved herself from the contents of her stomach without so much as a knock. The girl coughed into the bowl, yacking up what was probably way too much beer for the poor tiny girl.

“Oh my gosh,” said another voice, at the door, “I’m so sorry. We didn’t realize there was someone here! ”

Emily looked up, realizing the voice came from no other than Jennifer Jareau.

“JJ!” Emily said, not really knowing what else to do with the girl heaving at her feet.

“You ok?” JJ kneeled down next to her friend, carefully pulling her friend’s long hair back, tugging a hair tie off her own wrist and collecting it so that it didn’t get anything on it.

Emily felt stupid sitting on the tub, not helping anything. She tossed the rest of the toilet paper in the garbage, placing the half-empty roll on the edge of the tub.

“Can I get her some water?” Emily asked, “To rinse her mouth?”

JJ looked up at her and nodded. Emily felt herself blushing slightly as she turned away. Who let one girl’s eyes be so big, and so blue. It was rude.

She returned a minute later having had to rinse her own beer cup out in the gross kitchen sink to make sure that she wasn’t accidentally giving this girl some random person's sketchy cup.

Emily remembered that earlier Derek said that it was a varsity party, so it did make sense that JJ was also in attendance. The whole team probably was. The other girl looked like a soccer player, she had that vibe.

Emily handed the cup to JJ, who gave her a grateful smile. Emily felt their fingers touch for a moment, before JJ turned to attend to her friend.

She tried to get her to take a sip, and Emily took the moment to look JJ up and down, taking in her light blue skinny jeans, black tank and high heeled boots. She was basically wearing the uniform of a straight white girl at a houseparty. Not to say Emily wasn’t also basically wearing the same outfit, pairing the jeans with combat boots and attempting to set herself apart with her black nail polish and eyeliner that her mother once called ‘a lot.’

In contrast to Emily’s fairly undefined thin body, she took note of the strong looking shoulders that flexed as JJ kneeled down on the floor. She was definitely an athlete. Emily looked away, checking her phone, feeling suddenly embarrassed for looking at the girl.

‘Where u go bbg????’ Read a new message from Derek.

‘Girl puknigh up hre’ Emily typed, ‘Got her waterr’

Emily blinked at her typos, pressing the red underlined words, hoping her phone would correct them for her. She wasn’t that drunk.

The two girls were talking quietly, and Emily decided to take her leave, but before she could the red-head beat her to the punch deciding that she wanted to puke in peace.

“Leave me aloooooonnne Jennifer,” she wined. “Get out, I don’t want any more fucking water.”

JJ pulled back, making a face and holding her hands up in the ‘I surrender’ motion. Emily hurried out into the hall with JJ on her heels. The girl kicked the door shut angrily, and the sound of her retching ensued.

“There was a funnel,” JJ offered as an explanation. She leaned against the door. “How has your night been?”

Emily blinked. JJ was making conversation. She didn’t want Emily to leave just yet.

“So far so good,” Emily replied. “Doing better than your friend, at least.”

“That’s not hard to do. So I guess you didn’t chug from a funnel yet?” JJ quipped, smiling and revealing a perfect, white smile.

“Oh I have that scheduled for one-thirty, actually,” Emily said, pretending to check her watch and grinning.

“Let me know before you do, I’d like to watch that,” JJ said casually.

A wave of heat rushed to Emily’s face as she realized that drinking from a funnel would entail Emily on her knees, with JJ watching her… a thought that she needed to push out of her brain immediately.

“I’ll have you know,” Emily said in retort, “I can chug amongst the best. I am no stranger to these sorts of parties.”

JJ grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“I���m a reigning beer pong champ, I’ll have you know.”

They laughed.

“I saw your last victory. Very impressive.”

JJ, in a controlled fall, slid down the door and sat down in the hall, resigning herself to waiting for her friend. Emily wondered if she should return to Morgan now, but unable to tear herself away from the opportunity for a conversation with JJ.

“I’m awful at pong,” the blonde admitted. “I miss every time.”

“You probably just need a good teacher.”

JJ raised her eyebrows, “oh yeah?”

“I mean,” Emily said, sitting down onto the top step of the staircase, facing her floormate, “it’s all about hand eye coordination. It’s basically a sport. You need a coach.”

They both laughed.

“Well if that’s the case, why don’t you teach me?”

Emily gulped.

The door opened, and JJ fell back slightly before catching herself.

“I’m going home,” JJ’s friend announced.

JJ looked up at her dishevelled friend and nodded, turning back to look at Emily apologetically.

“Another time?” Emily offered, smiling before walking down the stairs and rejoining the party.

Next chapter ->

[moprocrastinates]

the story is about to begin, and every day will be a new piece of the plot

||| If you would like to comment, thank you, but click HERE instead to sign a petition to give Breonna Taylor the justice she deserves. |||

Chapter Rating: T

Disclaimer: Title comes from The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society by Mary Ann Shaffer/Annie Burrows. 

Summary: Her patience has already worn thin when her line of sight lands on the object left on the tray.

The journal is dark leather, marred by striking divots in the skin, but bound tightly together with a fraying string. Glancing around, Jude reaches for it without waiting for Cardan. Her curiosity, never quite satisfied, piques, and Jude turns to the first page.

Property of Cardan Greenbriar, it reads.

(Read on AO3!)

Early morning sunlight streams in through the slots the blinds don’t quite cover, and Jude Duarte groans quietly as she yanks the warm covers over her head.

Then the birds begin to chirp, and look— Jude’s all for birds, okay? (Even if they are a little terrifying at times.) She’d just prefer them if they didn’t feel the need to wake her up on a wonderful, sleepy Sunday before 10am.

Beneath the cover of her blankets, Jude scrunches her eyes shut a little more. The song the birds sing seems to grow louder and louder with every passing moment, and with a desperation only other night owls could understand, she jerks her pillow out from under her head to cover her ears, leaving bare skin touched by the cold air of her bedroom. Instinctively, she reaches out behind her, hands grabby and a little needy, mindlessly searching for her personal furnace— also known as her boyfriend Cardan. But her hands grasp thin air, and it’s then that Jude opens her eyes.

She sits up slowly, hair in a jumbled knot (it had been a messy bun originally, but Jude’s always been a rough sleeper) on top of her head and her covers strewn and tangled up in her bare feet. “Cardan?”

There is no answer, at least, not a vocal one, but as she opens her mouth to call out again, a loud crash comes from just outside the room, followed immediately by a loud curse that causes Jude to smile softly and bite her lip.

Jude Duarte knows Cardan Greenbriar perhaps better than anyone, and, because of this, she also knows that today of all days, she shouldn’t interrupt him. Not when he’s got a plan.

And for their anniversaries, he’s always got a plan. She’s tried fighting him on it, but it’s the one battle she will always cede to him willingly—how much he desperately wants to show his love for her.

She already knows. But because she loves him, she lets him have free reign over their anniversaries.

It’s her way of letting him know she loves him back.

So she shuffles out of bed, padding quietly into their bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. As she daintily smears toothpaste on bristles, she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

She doesn’t look young enough to be the type of woman who has spent five years being with the man she loves, but alas, here she is.

Here she is, and so in love.

Another loud crash brings her out of her reverie, and with her morning ritual done, Jude steps out of their room, and nearly laughs at the sight of her beautiful, curly-haired tree of a boyfriend standing nervously in front of the oven, looking at it like it might explode.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not going to attack you,” She says, grinning shyly at him when he whips around to look at her. “You’re the one out of the two of us who doesn’t burn food in there, so hopefully it still likes you.”

Cardan rolls his eyes in a way that Jude instinctively interprets as loving before he steps towards her, hands immediately finding purchase on her hips. He leans down, and she meets him halfway, lips touching in perhaps one of the gentlest morning kisses she’s ever had. (Most of the morning kisses she’s had in her lifetime have been with Cardan, so it’s not really like she has anything else to compare to.)

She wraps her arms around his neck, fully intending on making this kiss turn into something deeper when he recognizes her intent and laughs against her lips. “Happy anniversary, Jude.”

“Happy anniversary,” she says softly, and when she pulls back to look him in the eyes, she sees the same adoration in his that she knows is reflected in hers. “Five years, huh?”

Cardan chuckles, turning back to the stove and flipping the dials. “Yeah. Still quite can’t believe it.”

Jude snorts. “You’re telling me, Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Relationships Greenbriar.”

“You’re a menace.” Cardan swats at her with an eggy spatula that she barely dodges. She can’t help the squeak that falls from her lips and reflects the bright smile dawning on Cardan’s face. “Go back to bed,” He grumbles. “You’re ruining the whole concept of breakfast in it!”

“Breakfast in bed is wherever I claim the bed is,” She chirps back, reaching around his slender shoulders to snag a few chocolate chips from the bag. “I mean, technically, I could say your penis is the bed. What would you do then, huh?”

Although he isn’t looking at her, she can tell just from the sudden tension in his shoulders that she’s made him think.

Good.

“Go away, Jude.” His response is more of a snarl than it is a statement.

“You loooooovvveee me,” Jude sings when Cardan turns to face her, brown eyes amused and rough hands holding out her beloved BB-8 coffee mug.

“Apparently.” He says, snorting, but his gaze is warm.

Without missing a beat or breaking eye contact, she snags her mug from him and hops down to head back to the bedroom when he grabs her arm and pulls her back into his chest.

“You forgot your tray, darling,” Cardan murmurs lowly in her ear, and Jude really can’t help the shot of heat that courses through her veins at that very moment.

If she had witnesses, she’d blame it on the coffee.

But as always, Cardan has other plans.

He hands her a small tray with what appears to be blueberry muffins (her favorite), a small vase of peonies, and a leather book.

“Don’t read it without me, okay?” Cardan’s eyes are serious now, sharp and sudden, and Jude’s dreams of a morning romp are moderately dashed by the severity in his gaze. “Please?”

“Fine.” She huffs, and he ruffles her hair and presses a kiss to her temple before she traipses back to bed.

Jude waits for less than two minutes. What could he possibly be doing? Turning off the oven? (Anyone who truly knew her knows about her lack of patience.) “Anytime soon would be great, Cardan!”

She gets a muffled response, but by then, her patience has already worn thin when her line of sight lands on the object left on the tray.

The journal is dark leather, marred by striking divots in the skin, but bound tightly together with a fraying string. Glancing around, Jude reaches for it without waiting for Cardan.  Her curiosity, never quite satisfied, piques, and Jude turns to the first page.

Property of Cardan Greenbriar, it reads, and Jude snorts in amusement (what was with him and his affinity for writing letters) before turning another page.

Day One:

So you’ll probably call me an idiot (because that’s what you do), but I’ve never wanted to do this for any other person in my life. You’re special, and I’ve known that for years, but it wasn’t until tonight when we both stumbled through asking each other out that it made me realize that you’re unparalleled in every other relationship I’ve ever had in my entire life. Even with Nicasia.

You’re so special to me, Jude, and I was so sure you would never, EVER, want to be with me.

As of now, we’ve been going out for three hours, fifty minutes, and twenty-nine seconds. It’s been the best three hours, fifty minutes, and twenty-nine seconds of my life. I like this feeling, so I’m going to keep it going, okay?

Is that okay with you?

Jude gapes. Holy shit.

She flips to the next page.

Day Two:

So we went out on our first official date tonight, and we went to that really quaint coffee shop on Elfhame—The Court of Shadows, it was called. It was a nice evening out, so we sat outside. You wore this stunning purple dress that made your eyes shine, and you laughed at all my dumb jokes and it was like we were best friends again, only this time I knew I could kiss you if I wanted to.

The whole time, I really wanted to.

But when it got colder out as the evening went on, I figured it was time for hot coffee, so I went in to order. The line was long, but you couldn’t see that, so when I left the shop, you were coming in. I was so focused on making sure I didn’t spill that I didn’t see you, and you were so concerned that I was fighting with a barista or something that you didn’t see me, and when we crashed, I was so sure it was over.

I’m still not sure what I said— I thought it might’ve been my horror or my stream of apologetic consciousness that made you forgive me for staining your favorite dress— but instead, you just looked at me. Just looked at me, hard, and I swear once again that I thought it was over. I thought I’d ruined my chance with you.

I know I have the potential within me to love you forever, starting from today (not that I didn’t before, but you know)—because you looked up at me from the ground, fucking beamed and me, and said, “Cardan, the coffee’s cold.” Then you grabbed my hand and dragged me to Steak ‘n Shake, you in your beautiful albeit coffee-stained purple dress, and me with my pit-stained, ruffled shift and frazzled hair.

That burger was the best I’ve ever had, but I think it only tasted as good as it did because I had the best company around.

Oh, and you stole my milkshake. You owe me one, Duarte.

Jude can’t help it. Every word he has written makes her shake; her fingers tremble as they deftly flip the pages and trace the ink where he’d pressed so hard— his feelings literally engraving themselves into immortality. She reads the following entries, her heart swelling more and more with every line. Cardan has written every day for the past five years, detailing the highs and lows of their relationship. She cannot stop the laughter; she cannot stop the way her eyes fill with tears at his declarations of her beauty.

Some of her favorite memories are his, and Jude’s no stranger to Cardan’s writing style— she was there when he began and finished his first romance novel, was the one who read every single page and argued with him about the relationship between Hades and Persephone, and was the person peering over his shoulder as he sent out queries to agents. Jude was the person to pour him a glass of red wine when he finally found one, and the first one to congratulate him when the book was sold. But to read of the memories she plays in her head every time they fight or every time they make love, her best ones, her favorite ones, she really cannot believe her previous claims about being so deeply in love with Cardan Greenbriar.

She has never been more in love with him than in this moment with this gift.

Day 11:

We told our friends about us today. I wasn’t sure if you were ready, but as soon as we entered the Court of Shadows, you smacked a kiss to the corner of my lips and laced your fingers with mine, and Liliver whooped so loudly that I thought I wouldn’t hear again.

Then everybody passed the Roach money, and then they started taking bets on when I’d propose.

Believe me, that’s not going to happen yet. I want to get to know you, my sweet villain, and although I’ve known you since I was eleven, I want to know you as more than my best friend.

But instead of scolding our friends (why the hell do I even call them that? They’re incorrigible), you just laughed and made a joke about that episode of Friends where Ross and Rachel get married in Vegas and distracted everyone. You kept tracing your thumb along the lines of my palm underneath the table, and you looked at me and I thought, “I love you.”

Hopefully I’ll be able to say it to you soon enough. I’ll practice it here: I love you.

It feels pretty good.

Not all the entries are professions of love. A few detail their fights, funny moments, touching moments, and she loves every word. Her hazel eyes water, and she blinks, reaching up to wipe quickly across her eyes as to avoid getting water on the pages.

Day 42:

WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME VIVI DUARTE IS SO MUCH SCARIER WHEN SHE’S NOT MY FRIEND BUT MY GIRLFRIEND’S OLDER SISTER?

I love you.

Day 91:

Happy three-month anniversary. Please don’t eat all the chocolate-covered strawberries. Thanks.

I love you.

Day 133:

You came over from work today with sweat glistening through your clothing, around your hair, and on your face— the only thing you said to me was, “I love my job, Cardan.”

I’m so happy you’re happy. 

I love you.

Day 242:

You said it back.

 I love you.

Day 276:

Why are you so fucking good at Mario Kart? I’ve BEEN in the car when you drive. How you haven’t crashed is beyond me.

I love you.

Day 311:

Happy Valentine’s Day, darling.

You looked gorgeous tonight, your hair in curls falling down your back, eyes full of mischief, and in that lilac dress I spilled coffee on whilst on our first date.  

How the hell did I get you to fall in love with me? Some days I can’t believe it. But those days are getting fewer and farther in between.

I really do believe I’ll be with you the rest of my life. You don’t know that yet, of course, but maybe I’ll say it to you. Maybe one day I’ll believe it myself.

I love you.

Day 353:

Godsdamn, you’re blasting “Making Love Out of Nothing At All,” outside my window á la Say Anything because we had a fight. I thought you didn’t care when I said I was so glad we began our relationship and took your silence to mean this was over; you did care, but couldn’t put all you felt into words, and I needed to hear it to quell my own fears.

The song’s quite fitting, isn’t it—on both our ends?

It’s an apology. The words might not be yours, but I hear you. I forgive you. Always.

I’m sorry, too.

I love you.  

Day 398:

I’m going to tell you I have to go to Rome for four months for research on my next book. I don’t know how you’ll take it.

I love you.

Day 468:

Being away from you every day is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I miss your smile and the way it reveals itself, slowly and shyly, before becoming suddenly the brightest thing in my line of vision. I miss your hair (it’s befitting of a queen such as you) and how it smells like honey and those absolutely disgusting peanut butter and honey sandwiches you eat (seriously, HOW do you eat those?). I miss your eyes, and I swear I wake up in the middle of the night completely dazed by the colors of the forest. I miss your laugh, I miss how you say my name, I miss the way you look after sex and the way you murmur and kiss whispers of love on my skin when I push into you, I miss the way you koala-hug me when we’re cuddling, I miss your competitiveness and how you look after you get a Jeopardy question wrong and lose to me, I miss the sound of your voice when you sing “I Won’t Say I’m in Love,” in the shower, I miss you totally drinking me under the table and you dragging Severus Snape with every single curse word you can think of and I miss you telling me in person you love me. I miss telling you in person that I love you.

I guess I just miss you.

Please don’t be mad at me. 

I love you.

Day 500:

You’re the fucking best at phone sex.

I love you.

Day 588:

I’m coming home to you, and I don’t really want to be apart from you again.

I love you.

Day 619:

I don’t even know what we fought about at this point. It was probably dumb. I don’t know whose fault it is. All I know is that I’m sorry. I hope you decide to let me share the bed with you tonight.

And I love you.

Day 730:

I’m thinking about asking you to marry me. It’s our second anniversary… It seems fitting. You’re asleep right now, napping after work, and I’ve just ordered pizza—Hawaiian with extra cheese, just like you like. You’ll wake up as soon as the food gets here. Your stomach never betrays you.

I love you.

Day 846:

You ran into Locke at the grocery today, and I nearly broke up with you right then and there.

We’ve been fighting a lot lately. I don’t even know what about. Every time I speak, you snap, and every time I go to touch you, you recoil. I don’t remember the last time you replied to my, “I love you.”

I still don’t know what I did. I’m sorry.

I love you.

Day 847:

We were sitting on the sofa watching Planet Earth, and you turned to me suddenly, pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, and rested your head on my shoulder.

We’ll be okay.

I love you, and you love me.

Day 952:

My lease is up. Wanna live with me?

I love you.

Day 975:

I don’t know about you, but I’m loving life with you.

Even though you are literally the clumsiest person known to man and break every single dish we own, have a habit of stealing the books I’m currently reading, and never make our bed when I leave early and don’t get a chance to do it— you’re alright, my darling. I think I’ll keep you.

I love you.

Day 1000:

You’re cute when you drool in your sleep.

I love you.  

Day 1095:

So I’m sitting here next to you with the single greatest anniversary gift ever, and I don’t think I could be more content. You’re asleep, so thankfully you aren’t seeing me write this, but for future readings, I’m sorry about the spilled ink… Gus got ahold of the pen.

Note to self and to you: Don’t let kittens chew things.

Gus seems to agree.

I love you.

Day 1273:

So Vivi’s been bugging me for a while now, because apparently she’s going to win the bet if I propose within the next year. She wants to go ring shopping to ensure that she’ll win.

Joke’s on her— I already have the ring.

I love you.

Jude’s breath caught.

Day 1461:

You asked me today why I love you, and I told you that I couldn’t tell you why.

Jude, you started to get mad and tried to pull away just as I told you that I couldn’t tell you why because there are too many reasons. I told you that we’d be there all day if I listed every single reason why I love you. We might be there for days, weeks, months, years even. I cannot describe how much you mean to me. Just know that when I say I love you, it’s so much more than that.

I cannot fathom what it would be like if you were not in my life. Thankfully, you’re here, and I love you. Happy fourth anniversary.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Day 1499:

Geez, I think this journal is getting a little long, don’t you?

I love you.

Day 1587:

I’ve thought about this for years now, and I think I’ve finally perfected my idea.

I love you.

Day 1617:

You’re going to be so mad that you didn’t see this coming. Seriously, Duarte. For the woman who is so terrifyingly good at figuring out those mystery TV shows, you really have no idea. Either that, or you’re just really good at hiding it.

I’m betting it’s the former, though.

I love you.

Day 1765:

Only a few more days… I think you’ll be happy to know that none of our friends will win the bet.

Oh, except me. Did I mention I entered it? Yeah, I bet on us WAY back when.

I love you.

Day 1825:

It’s going to be weird actually giving this to you tomorrow. After all, there’s five years’ worth of my thoughts in here, five years of my thoughts about you kept from you.

I’m going to tell you not to read it until I bring you food (because food always makes you happy, and slightly more agreeable), but because I know you, I’ve accepted the fact that you’ve probably disregarded my request and are reading this right now.

So.

I love you. Just wanted you to know that, you know, in case you couldn’t tell.

P.S.- I’m going to pull the blinds so “those damn birds,” don’t wake you up right away. I have some stuff to do. You know.

Day 1826:

I love you.

Will you marry me?

Tears stream down her face, and Jude hears a soft, “Oh,” come from the entryway to their bedroom.

There Cardan stands, holding a tray of food and looking somewhat sheepish. He sets down the tray on a nearby dresser and turns to look at her softly. His gray sweatpants hug his hips, his dark blue shirt rides up slightly, and his dark curls fall in front of his face, hiding his eyes.

But Jude knows Cardan.

She knows that although his face is composed, he’s shaking inside. She knows that every fiber in his being is screaming at him to run away, to protect himself. She knows he’s always been last in his own mind, that he always chooses to care for others before himself, and that he doesn’t think he deserves her or any of his friends and family. She knows that this journal he’s kept for her for five years is a story of his real emotions, how she really makes him feel, that some of these words are things he’ll never say aloud. She knows he’s terrified about being an uncle to the Roach and Liliver’s unborn child, she knows that he talks to Gus out loud and considers him one of his best friends, she knows that he actually thinks there’s a chance that she won’t accept his proposal.

She’s firmly okay with the rest, but what she won’t stand for is him believing in the last one.

“Um,” Cardan says as he approaches her and immediately her eyes are drawn to his fingers, which flex as he draws nearer. He wants to touch her.

“I guess this is the part where I get down on one knee.” Cardan’s smile is self-deprecating, and Jude doesn’t think she can take any more because her heart is going to burst out of her chest.

When he lowers himself down, she bursts into tears.

When she was little, and thinking about getting proposed to, she, haughty, had always thought she wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t be that overcome with emotion.

Yet.

“Jude,” Cardan murmurs, reaching out and tenderly wiping the tears speeding down her cheeks. “For years I’ve loved you. Some of them were spent with you as my best friend, flinging dirt into my hair and making me push you on the swings. Others were spent in a classroom, quizzing me on my Greek mythology class and me helping you make up lesson plans for your third graders. But the best couple of years of my life have been with you next to me in every way possible, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replicate those years, those feelings, and those memories without you. So, Jude… will you… Jude, will you marry me?”

Cardan doesn’t even get a chance to get the ring out of his pocket before Jude hurls herself at him, knocking over the vase of peonies and attaching her mouth to his.

They fall on the soft carpet, Cardan grunting out as Jude lands on top of him, but his arms tighten around her as she proceeds to press wet kisses onto every square inch of his face, whispering, “Yes, yes, yes, I love you, I love you,” while she does so.

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

The last line on the last page of the journal is written in new curly handwriting:

Property of Cardan Greenbriar (and Jude Duarte).

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Twenty-Nine

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut, and a whole mess of fluff.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“C’mere.” You say to him. You sit up slightly. “I want you to like hover over me while I suck on you.”

“Are you sure you want my balls in your face like that?” He chuckles.

“Won’t bother me.”

Harry comes closer to you, and grips the top of your headboard. You grip him in your hand at first, and then put your mouth right on him. He sucks in a breath when he feels your hot, wet mouth around him. Sometimes you think back to when you were younger. You absolutely hated sucking dick. Some guys just had bad hygiene. But you loved doing it for Harry. He really made you see how hot it was to pleasure someone else orally. He also kept things trim and clean, which you very much appreciated.

He rocks against your face, going deeper down your throat. You groan against him, and he grips your headboard tighter. His eyes are screwed shut, trying to picture his dick inside of you where he really wants it. It’s not that he didn’t love it when you blew him, he just wanted to feel how tight you were.

It doesn’t take him long to come down your throat. You swallow up every bit of it, and he climbs off of you. You get up to rinse your mouth out.

“Holy shit!” You scream, and he rushes into in the bathroom to make sure you’re alright. He finds you inspecting the back of your body in the mirror. Your front wasn’t nearly as fucked up. “Jesus, Harry.” You say rubbing a spot on your shoulder. “I look like a leopard.” You start laughing.

“You said I could…”

“I’m not complaining.” You assure him.

“Looks good on you anyways.” He gives you kiss on the cheek and pats your bum. He leaves you to do your thing in the bathroom.

You wash your face and brush your teeth. When you come out of the bathroom you pick up his t-shirt and throw it on over you. He’s sitting up in bed reading.

“Harry, you look so cute in your glasses, have I ever told you that?” He looks at you and smiles.

“Maybe once or twice.” He teases. He finishes the last page of his book and sighs.

“What?” You ask getting into the bed.

“Nothin’, just sad. This was the last book in this series.”

“Did it have a happy ending?”

“As happy as it could be, yeah. It’s my second time readin’ it, still gets to me.” He takes his glasses of and wipes a tear away.

“I wish I liked reading as much as you do. I much prefer television.”

“I just like getting’ lost in the pages. I mean, I read garbage novels, but they’re just so addicting. Has a television show ever moved you to tears?”

“Oh, tons of times. I think TV has made me cry more than film.”

“Really? What shows have made you cry?” He pulls you into his chest and turns the light off. God, you loved pillow talk before bed.

“Okay, don’t laugh, but when I was in high school, and college too, I was really into Glee.”

“That show about the nerds in the acapella club?”

“Yeah.”

“That show made you cry?”

“I think just about every episode in the third season made me cry, and I sobbed during the season finale. To be fair, I was like sixteen.” You giggle. “There were a couple of scripted series on MTV too that made me super emotional.”

“Like what?”

“There was a show called Awkward that just really fired me up. And there was Teen Wolf.”

“Teen Wolf? Isn’t that a movie with Michael J. Fox?”

“Yeah! But then MTV made a show based off the movie, much darker though. It was really good. Well, it got worse as the seasons went on, but I watched through to the end. Same with Awkward.”

“Do you watch anythin’ now that tugs at your heart strings?”

“Um…I really like that show Roswell: New Mexico. I didn’t think I would like it so much, but it got to me. The first season is on Netflix, maybe we could watch it sometime.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“I used to like live blog and write reviews for the shows I’d watch. I still do sometimes.”

“Where do you blog?”

“On Tumblr mostly.”

“That’s cool that you do that.”

“It’s funny because I hate reading reviews of things. I like to try things out for myself. Oh! Do you watch Stranger Things? That’s a good one. Niall and I always binge watch it together when a new season comes out.”

“That’s right!” He starts laughing. “I remember he like blew me off during the day on the 4th this summer to go meet up with you.”

“That was an incredible binge, if I do say so. Speaking of him, he wants to have a movie night Friday so we can all celebrate our good news. I was thinking of having everyone over here. What do you think?”

“Works for me.” He smiles at you.

//

Your period was a killer this week. There were several times during the week you found yourself on the floor in your office. You had run out of your stash of ibuprofen, and hadn’t had time to get more. You were forced to just suffer in silence. The pain would pass eventually, and then you could get on with it.

Harry was good about not getting on your nerves too much. He was slowly learning what you needed while your hormones were at their peak. Every morning you’d examine your body, almost becoming sad at seeing the marks slowly fade away as they healed. You were incredibly horny, but there wasn’t anything you could do. You’d had sex on your period before, but you certainly weren’t going to let him use his fingers or mouth on you right now. You had contemplated maybe in the shower, but you were afraid of residue. You didn’t tell him this, but you got yourself off a couple times in the shower on your own. You had to, the ache between your legs was just too unbearable.

Your body was trying to tell you something for sure, but your mind tried its best to keep you at bay.

//

You were delighted when your period ended Friday morning, but your stomach felt like shit. The first week of a birth control pack was your least favorite thing, even more so than your period. Your dosage wasn’t even that high, but it still would make you feel like you were going to vomit.

“Anythin’ ya need me t’pick up for tonight? I can do a run to the market before ya get home from work.” Harry says to you sitting up in bed, watching you pick your outfit for the day.

“Think I have everything we need. I have chips and dip, we’ll probably order pizza or something.” You decide on a pair of dark jeans and blouse/blazer combination. You throw your hair up in a high pony, and take a few strands out to frame your face.

“Know what we’re watchin’ yet?”

“Nope.”

“Who’s comin?” You sigh and look at him.

“Harry, I love you, but you’ve reached my capacity for questions this morning, okay?” He blinks at you.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I just feel gross and I’m hormonal. Not a great excuse.”

“One more question.” You nod. “Is Aunt Flow still in town?”

“No she left early this morning, thank god. This was a rougher month.” You sit on the edge of the bed. He places a hand on your thigh.

“Sometimes I wish I could just take all your aches away.” You smile at him.

“You do, in more ways than you know.” You stand up and give him a light kiss. “See you tonight.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

//

You felt better as the work day went on. You were excited to have a little double date with Niall and Sarah. Harry got out of work around 4PM, so he went straight to your apartment. He knew you’d want to have the place ready to go so you could relax when you got home. He fluffed up the pillows on your couch, and folded up the couple of blankets you kept on the back of it. He made sure all of the beer for him and Niall was in the fridge, and he picked up your favorite wine.

You keyed into your apartment around 5:30, and kicked off your shoes. Your nose was pink from the cold air outside. Harry had his legs slung over one of the large chairs you had near the couch. He had his laptop, and was working away. He looked up at you and gave you a smile.

“Hi, love.” He says.

“Hi honey.” You yawn.

“I tidied a bit for ya.” You kiss the top of his head.

“Thank you. M’just gonna go change quick.”

You change into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, and come back out to Harry. He puts his laptop on the coffee table, and gestures for you to come sit with him. You sit in his lap, and rest your head on his shoulder. He rocks you back and forth slowly, and you let out a calming sigh.

“How’s my baby girl today, hm?”

“Tired.” He rubs your back. “But I’m happy to have friends over tonight.” You nuzzle into his neck.

“I bought that wine you really like.”

“Mm.” Is all you muster out as you start to doze off in his arms. He chuckles, but lets you drift.

Your eyes snap open when you hear Niall and Sarah walk into your place. You practically jump off of Harry.

“Sorry, did we disturb you two?” Sarah giggles. “We brought a veggie platter.” She hands it to Harry.

“No, I fell asleep. I was exhausted.” You stretch, and hug your friend.

“Alright, what are we watchin? TV, movie?” Niall says.

“Oh! You know what was on the other night that I’d love to watch all the way through?” You say.

“What?”

“The Forty-Year-Old Virgin. I refrained from watching it because it was halfway through. It’s on Netflix, do we feel like a comedy?”

“Works for me.” Niall says.

“I love that movie!” Sarah says.

Harry and Niall grab their beer, and you and Sarah fill your glasses with wine. You and Sarah sit in the middle of the couch, and your boyfriends sit on either side of you. Your apartment was filled with giggles right off the bat.

“God, we love a young Paul Rudd.” Sarah says.

“We love a Paul Rudd at any age.” You clink your glass with hers. Harry pinches your arm, and you giggle. “What?”

“I’m sittin’ right here. You’re attracted to him?”

“You’re not?! He’s beautiful!” You and Sarah start laughing.

“Isn’t he like fifty?” Niall chimes in.

“So?” You and Sarah say at the same time.

“He’s a hall pass for sure.” Sarah says, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek.

“Agreed. What I would give for a night with Paul Rudd.” You look up at Harry and burst out laughing.

“Jesus, mate, here I was thinkin’ she liked the tall, tan guys, but clearly I was wrong.”

“Now you’ve learned your place.” Niall says laughing. You kiss Harry on the cheek.

You and Sarah laugh so hard you both cry when Jonah Hill makes his small cameo. The guys end up laughing pretty hard at several moments too. You get up to grab the veggie platter out of the fridge and set it up on the coffee table for everyone.

“Thanks for bringing this by the way.”

“Oh no problem, figured it would be better than pizza. Are you excited for Hanukkah to start tomorrow?”

“Yes! I look forward to the gift card my uncle gives me every year.” You giggle.

“Is Harry going with you?” Sarah asks.

“Yup.” You two share a look and start laughing.

“Alright, why does this keep happening? Has everyone been to this party but me?”

“Pretty much, lad.”

“What’s the big deal? Is there somethin’ I should know?”

“Y/N’s great uncle is just a really funny guy. I would just watch out when he greets you.”

“Sarah!”

“You’re not even going to warn him?”

“Warn me of what?”

“If she didn’t warn me, she doesn’t get to warn him.” Niall says.

“Harry…just…” Sarah giggles. “He’s just an older Jewish guy with different ways of saying hello. That’s all.”

“What’s he gonna do? Hug me? M’fine with that.”

“Sure, he’s going to hug you.” Sarah shrugs. “It’s a really great way to know you’re part of the family.”

Sarah and Niall leave around 11PM. You and Harry clean up the living room, and head to the bedroom.

“What time should we leave tomorrow?”

“Party starts at six, so we should probably leave here at like quarter of five, might be traffic.”

“Oh great, so we can sleep in a little?”

“Yup.” You kiss him and turn over. He wraps himself around you, being the bigger spoon.

“That was fun tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we were able to do it. Gotta make more time for them.”

“Definitely….so, Paul Rudd could have you huh?” You turn over to face your stupid boyfriend.

“You’re not serious?”

“Nice to know how you really feel.” He fake pouts.

“I’m sure you have your own celebrity crushes.”

“I suppose. None I would leave you for to go fuck though. Wouldn’t be worth it.” You bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “You would really ask me for a hall pass for Paul Rudd? Of all people?”

“Hypothetically speaking, if he wasn’t married with kids, I would consider it. More than anything I think I’d like to just have dinner with him, pick his brain.”

“So you want to go out on a date with him?”

“Sure!” You giggle.

“Who else do you swoon over?” He gives you a crooked smile.

“That’s a very personal question.” You tease.

“Why?”

“Because you’re essentially asking me about who I’ve fantasized about.”

“Jesus, if you tell me you’ve touched yourself thinking about Paul R-“

“I haven’t! Not with him.”

“Who then?” Your cheeks flush. “C’mon, I wanna know who my competition is.”

“Harry, it’s embarrassing.” You shove your face into his chest.

“Please, I’m so curious.” He begs.

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Promise I won’t.” You lift your head and look at him.

“I would bone Andy Samberg if I had the chance, again, if he wasn’t married with a child. I will not be a homewrecker.”

“What is with you and older Jewish dudes?”

“Don’t know. It’s not because they’re Jewish. I just find him really attractive, plus he’s funny. You’re funny.”

“Right, the key to a girl’s heart is humor.” He rolls his eyes.

“Harry, if you didn’t make me laugh on our first date, I wouldn’t have seen you again, attraction or not.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Sense of humor is very important to me. You’re so quick when you joke around, you could be a comedian yourself.” He lifts your chin up to kiss you.

“So, you were pretty hot f’me when we first met, huh?”

“So hot.” You roll your eyes. “I had never seen a man quite so handsome. What about me? What did you think of me when we first met?”

“I wanted to hit Niall for not doing you justice. I mean the lad told me you were beautiful, but shit, when I saw you, I nearly got the wind knocked out of me.”

“Oh stop.” You swat your arm at his chest.

“M’serious. And you were so cute at the end of the night, when you simply kissed me on the cheek. It was so innocent and sweet. Not somethin’ I had really experienced before.”

“How do your first dates typically go?” You giggle. Harry scrunches his face.

“Do ya really wanna know the answer t’that?”

“Are you seriously going to tell me that you usually bone on the first date?”

“That’s usually the only date I want, so yeah.” He says a little too honestly.

“What about the girl you dated for like seven months, or whatever?”

“Uhh, we got frisky…didn’t do it til the second date I think. I don’t know, I was such an asshole, I basically just thought of her as the girl I was consistently hookin’ up with.”

“Were you sleeping with other people?”

“Nah, just her.”

“And she thought you were dating, but you didn’t think you were?”

“I just thought of her as the girl I was seein’.” You often wondered what made you so goddamn special. You and Harry had talked about it before, but it still baffled you. “I know what you’re thinkin’. You know what I really liked about you, like, right off the bat?”

“What?”

“You were just so open and lovely. You were genuinely interested in what I had to say. I thought it was sweet that you complimented m’nails, like not in a judgey way. I couldn’t wait to see you again, honestly. I’d never felt that way before.”

“So you didn’t want to just fuck me then?”

“I wouldn’t have turned the opportunity down. I mean, you looked so fuckin’ sexy in that little black dress you wore.”

“I’ve never seen a man wear a pair of pants the way that you do.”

“What?” He laughs.

“You have a bubble butt babe, and it’s incredible. Love sinking my nails into those cheeks.”

“Are you still drunk?”

“Maybe just a bit buzzed, but I mean what I say.” You prop yourself up to really look at him. “You have a chonk, my dude.” Harry burst out laughing.

“Who talks like that?” He says with a big smile.

“Me and my friends. You’re not the only with a dirty mouth.” You wink. “You know what, I think that’s why I like Paul Rudd and Andy Samberg so much. They both have pretty big butts.”

You both giggle about a bunch of different things until you fall asleep.

//

The next morning you both happily slept in. You got up before Harry. You decided to do a light workout in your living room since you didn’t go to the gym much last week. You put on a pair of spandex shorts and sports bra, and tip toed out. You were just finishing your cool down when Harry walked into the living room, blanket wrapped around him. You guzzled down some water. Your body was drenched in sweat.

“Morning baby. Thought I’d get a quick workout in, we’re going to be eating a lot of food tonight.” He squints at you.

“You…you weren’t in the bed when I woke up.” He rubs his eyes, his voice was still thick with sleep.

“I was just out here, did you think I went somewhere?” You turn the TV off, and walk towards him.

“I don’t know what I thought. I just reached for you and you weren’t there.” He pouts. “I like when we snuggle in the mornin’. You’ve deprived me.” You giggle at him.

“Is baby a little cranky this morning?” You pinch of his cheeks and walk by him.

“Where you goin’ now?” He whines.

“Harry, I’m caked with sweat, I need to shower. You can join me if you want.”

“Not awake enough to shower.”

“That makes no sense. Showers wake people up all the time.”

“Too much work.” He curls up on the couch, and closes his eyes.

You take your shower, alone. You take full advantage of having the privacy to shave every last inch of yourself. You blow dry your hair, and throw your robe on, not really feeling like putting clothes on yet. Harry was still wrapped in your blanket, but he was sitting up and had a mug in his hands. He was watching something mindless on television. You sit down next to him and smile. You throw your legs over his lap.

“Feel how smooth my legs are, I just shaved them.” He gives you a funny look and giggles, rubbing his hand up and down one of your legs.

“Mm, so soft.”

“You’re a sleep boy today.”

“Yeah, I am. Not really sure why, I’ll perk up once the coffee’s in me.”

“Want me make something for breakfast? I have oatmeal and grapes.”

“If you don’t mind, that’d be great.”

You turn on the electric kettle Harry had sneakily bought you. He said it was for him so he could have tea quick, but you know he wanted you to have one of your own. Once the water was boiling, you poured it into the two bowls of quick oats you made up. You but a dash of cinnamon in each, and topped it with some grapes. You come back over and hand him his bowl.

“Thank you baby.”

“My pleasure.”

You both scarf down your breakfast, and sit on the couch a while longer. Harry gets up to clean the bowls, and puts them in the dishwasher. He stretches out, and lets out a moan.

“Alright, guess I’ll shower now.”

You bring the blanket back to the bed and make it up. Harry’s in and out of the shower quick. He has his towel wrapped around his waist. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, filing your nails, he sits down next you.

“How long we been together now? Little over four months?”

“Yeah, it’ll be five in January.” You smile. “Why?” He twiddles his thumbs.

“Well, it might be too soon to be bringin’ this up, but s’not like that’s ever stopped us before. I’m here a lot, and I love your place. I still like my place, but I love your place because this is where you and all your things are. I didn’t know if maybe when we got back from holiday, maybe we could entertain the idea of finding a place of our own?” He looks up at you. You’re speechless. “I mean, I’d say let’s just live here, but I need a space for my desk and monitor. I think a two bedroom where we could split the other room as a conjoined office or somethin’, would make the most sense.” He chews on his bottom lip. “I’ve totally freaked you out haven’t I?”

“How long have you, um, felt this way? When did you realize you wanted to live with me?”

“Can’t pin point it. Just somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about. I know it seems fast, but we’re practically livin’ together as it is. We can talk about it later if you’re not ready now. Just wanted to put the bug in your ear.”

You were amazed. You hadn’t even fully slept with the man yet, and he already wanted to live with you. You put your hands on his shoulders and push him back on the bed. You crawl on top of him, and kiss his face all over.

“Harry, I would love to live with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Maybe like towards the end of January we could start looking for a bigger place. You know, once all of the holidays are over. Can you break your lease at any time?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Why?”

“Well…you could move in here before we find another place. Doesn’t make sense for you to keep paying rent. It could take us months to find a place, I’d rather have you here during the in between. We can rearrange the furniture to fit all of your things. And I have that storage unit, we could keep your bed and bulkier furniture there for a little while.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You kiss him. “Um…not that I don’t wanna tell the world, but I’d like to keep this quiet from my family for a bit. I still have to tell my dad about England. I’d rather ease them into something like this.”

“Of course. Better keep it quiet from my mum too. Keep everything nice and light.”

“I’m so excited!”

“Me too!”

Harry always seemed to be able to read your mind. It was a conversation you were hoping to have with him after you got back from England. You just couldn’t believe that he beat you to it. You were practically living together, and it didn’t make sense for you both to be paying rent separately. You’d miss his little place, but you’d eventually find a bigger place you both liked. You still loved the idea of potentially living in Niall’s building. Once you start making more money, you’d be able to afford it no problem.

[destiel-love-forever]

tiny!octo!Cas enjoying his new tank Dee bought him. 

Read Part 1 [X]  

Link for AO3

Part Two

Two hundred and fifty dollars later - with his friend and family discount in mind - Dean is home with his new friend. He can’t stop grinning at how cute he is. He demanded to ride in Dean’s flannel pocket as they drove home and keeps releasing tiny squeaks every time he sees something exciting or interesting. It isn't until Dean starts setting up his tank in the bedroom that the little guy decides to venture out of his shirt. He carefully climbs down Dean’s arm so he can watch from the edge of the table as his home is created.

Dean fills the tank with brightly colored rocks and lets them settle. The Enochian is entranced, little mouth agape as he watches the pretty pebbles drift. Dean places the castle he bought on one side, letting the opening that leads to an interior section face the front of the tank. He adds some of the plants around as well. He finishes it off by putting in the little treasure chest that opens to release a bunch of bubbles whenever the motion sensor is triggered.

The Enochian puts a tentacle to the outside of the tank when it’s all done, peering inside. It’s already full of water, the filter plugged in to make sure it stays the right temperature, clean, and full of the proper amount of salt. It’s ready to go, so Dean asks, “Do you want to go in? Check it out?”

He realizes the little guy doesn’t understand because he looks at Dean and tilts his head, eyebrows crinkled. He shakes his head to make it clear he doesn’t understand. Dean points at him, nearly touching his bare chest, before pointing at the tank. “In? Do you want to go in?” he asks, repeating the pointing a few more times.

The Enochian nods frantically and puts his arms up, making grabby motions with his hands at Dean. He’s perfectly capable of climbing into the tank himself, but he’s grown very attached to the man with the soft shirt and nice smells. So attached, in fact, he’s not sure how often he plans on even being inside his new little home.

Dean gently picks him up, cradling him until they get to the opening of the tank. He puts his hand in the water so the little guy doesn’t have to jump, then removes it so he can step back and watch. The Enochian swims past the treasure chest, the box popping open and shooting bubbles toward the lid of the tank. It startles the little guy and he squeaks, a sound loud enough for Dean to hear even with him being under water. There’s a frantic twist of tentacles and arms.  Then he’s disappearing inside his castle.

After a minute of waiting, Dean decides he probably wants some time alone anyway. He lays back on his bed and grabs the book he’s currently reading from his bookshelf headboard. Shifting until he’s fully comfortable among the pillows, he crosses his ankles and opens the book. It’s one Sam bought him. He secretly loves reading but won’t ever admit it. He acts annoyed when Sam buys him books or gives him one to borrow. It’s his place. Everyone expects him to be the badass, tough guy who doesn’t read or like art or any of that stuff. Dean doesn’t mind pretending. No one bothers him. No one fucks with him. He doesn’t get hurt.

In the middle of a sentence, Dean feels something wet against his wrist. He looks over to see the little guy looking up at him nervously. His thick black curls are dripping water and sticking to his forehead, but Dean is paying more attention to the cute blush forming on his cheeks and the brilliant, otherworldly blue of his eyes.

“What’s up, little guy?”

The creature tilts his head and opens his mouth, but he can’t find any words. He could talk all day to this man in Enochian, but that won’t get him anywhere. When he sighs in frustration, Dean tries to ask again. “Do you need something?”

What were those words he used in the store? The man had asked a question using something that sounded like “k”. When he had said “k” back in response, the man looked very happy and took him home. He just can’t quite figure out what “k” represented.

He’ll just have to show him instead. He climbs up his arm and across his chest until he’s only a few inches from the strange thing in his hands. With the tip of one of his tentacles, he pokes at the thing. It’s hard and his touch leaves a small dot of water that soaks into it. He moves his head to look at the man and pulls his shoulders up in question. “K?”

“K?” Dean looks at the book, then the little guy, then the book. What the hell does “k” mean? “Um, are you asking what this is? What it’s called?”

When the Enochian just stares up at him in confusion, Dean points at the book. “Book.”

He turns his little head to look at the object again. Dean pokes at it a few times with his fingers. “Book. Book.” When he looks back up at Dean, Dean continues explaining. “I, well, Dean,” he says, jabbing a finger at his chest, “Dean is reading the book,” then he points at the book. He does it a few times before pausing, looking at the little guy expectantly. He’s not sure if that’s even what he was asking about, but it’s all Dean could think of.

A tentacle pokes at the page again and he whispers, “Book.”

“Yes! Yes! Book. Good job.” Dean nods quickly, smiling wide. The Enochian does a little shimmy. He still doesn’t understand anything but “book” but it’s clear the man is praising him. He loves praise. He loves being good.

Dean says again, including the finger movements, “Dean is reading the book.”

With a look of determination, he pokes a tentacle at the man’s chest. “Dee?”

“Yes. I’m Dean.”

“Dee.”

The man smiles. “Good enough.”

“Dee?” the little guy asks quietly, tilting his head in question.

“Yeah buddy?”

He doesn’t know how to explain, in words or in hand movements. He wants to thank the man for taking him home. He wants to let the man know how relieved he is to be here. The moment he smelled him, he knew. This man was his. They would be together forever and they would be very happy. He already loves him.

None of that can be told in hand, or tentacle, motions. And he definitely doesn’t know any of those words except in Enochian.

The little one is getting frustrated, breaths coming in huffs as his eyebrows pull in. Dean closes the book and puts it aside, then takes him into his hands. “Are you hungry?”

“K?”

“Hungry. Eat. Do you need to eat?” Dean makes a motion like he’s putting something in his mouth, then he points at his little belly to indicate that’s where it would go.

With a loud squeak, he shakes his head and tries wiggling out of his hands. He does not want this man to eat him! How could his smell betray him like this? How could it make him believe this man is safe? The man wants to eat him. Like he’s a common fish!

He squeaks and squirms until he’s out of Dean’s hands. Then he’s bolting back to his tank. He inks so Dean won’t know where he goes before getting inside the thing Dean called a castle. Then he stays completely still, trying to calm his hearts from the panic.

Dean sits on the bed, completely taken aback by what just happened. Obviously, the little guy misinterpreted what he was trying to communicate. He has no idea what he could have possibly thought. All he knows is he needs to go get some damn food and make it clear that what he was trying to suggest is perfectly safe. In fact, it’s something he needs.

Charlie said his favorite kind of fish is tuna, but he’s also allowed human food. After grabbing a bag of tuna he grabs a few chocolate chips from the half gone bag in his baking cabinet. Who doesn’t love chocolate? Hopefully not Enochians.

He sets the food up on a napkin, using a mason jar lid as a makeshift plate. Once everything is ready, he takes a piece of tuna in his fingers and gently taps on the tank glass. He knows he’s in the castle. There’s nowhere else secluded enough for him to hide from all angles. The ink is gone now, making the tank look completely empty. He taps on the glass again. “Buddy, Dean wants to show you. Food. Food to eat. Fish. I have fish. And chocolate.”

The little guy comes zooming out of his hiding spot, looking through the glass at Dean. Dean takes the chance and puts the tuna in his mouth, then points to his belly to show what he meant originally. Understanding blooms on the little guy’s face and he scrambles up the glass and out of the tank, trailing water as he gets to the food. He sniffs at it, then turns to look up at Dean with a wide smile. It’s the first time he sees the inside of his mouth. There are these adorable little fangs inside that poke out when he smiles. Dean’s heart bursts again.

“Fish?” he asks excitedly, tilting his head at Dean. He recognizes the word from the red haired lady at the store. She called his daily food fish. There were other things he ate, some he can remember the names of, but fish he knows for sure. Fish is good. Fish is delicious. He wants fish.

He has to be polite, though. His mom would kill him if she knew he wasn’t. So he tentatively points to the fish and says “Fish,” then to himself and says, “Castiel,” then he makes the eating motion, asking permission. When he’s done, he does his usual head tilt in question.

Dean smiles and nods. “Yes. Eat the fish. Castiel?” he asks, pointing at the Enochian again.

He nods and points at himself. “Castiel.” Then he points at Dean. “Dee.”

“Can I call you Cas?” He points at him. “Castiel.” Then points in the same spot. “Cas?”

“Cas. K!”

“Okay. Good.” Dean points to the food, feeling a weight lift. “Eat. Whatever you want. Fish and chocolate.”

A tentacle pokes at the chocolate before coming back and coiling. He’s unsure about this brown thing called chocolate. He will assess later. Instead, he starts on the fish. Dean leaves him be to go back to the kitchen. He heats up some microwave soup and brings it into the bedroom to eat with Castiel.

Most of the fish is gone so Dean adds more. Castiel doesn’t seem interested in it anymore, though. He pokes at the chocolate again. It still seems dangerous. He’s curious about what Dean is eating. He makes his way over to him and crawls up. His little hands curl over the lip of the bowl and he peers inside. It smells delicious. There’s colorful things floating around in the warm liquid.

When he looks up at Dean, the man is smiling again. “Want to try it? Eat?” he asks, pointing at the soup before putting a spoon to his mouth. “Eat? Soup?”

“Eat.” He nods, now understanding what “eat” means.

Dean takes a small piece of carrot on the tip of his spoon and holds the spoon to Castiel’s face. It’s still a little too big so he uses a tentacle to take it from the spoon, holding the slippery orange thing while he takes a bite. It’s delicious. He takes the second bite and looks up at Dean, wanting more. This time he’s given a piece of something green. It’s even better than the orange thing.

Together, they finish off the soup. His belly is full so he doesn’t try the chocolate. He’s not heartbroken over it. The stuff still looks weird. Even when Dean eats it himself before cleaning everything up, he doesn’t trust the brown things.

He rides in Dean’s flannel pocket, watching curiously as the man cleans the kitchen. Then they relax on the couch. Dean turns the television on, flipping through the channels until he finds the football game. He situates himself so he’s laying down with his head on a throw pillow. Castiel pokes his head out of the flannel pocket and looks up at him. “K?”

“What’s up?” Dean’s starting to realize “k” means Castiel needs something or is confused about something.

“K?” He crawls over to the center of Dean’s chest and pokes a tentacle in the direction of his head. Dean has no idea what it could mean but he nods.

Castiel smiles wide and scurries up his neck and along the side of his face. His smooth tentacles feel like Dean is brushing against glass. It tickles and he tries not laugh. When Castiel reaches his hair, he feels some gently tugging and the weight shifting before he stills. Dean waits for something to happen. Nothing does.

The big box with pictures that are moving is showing these little people running around with a ball. They have helmets on their heads, kind of like the Enochian warriors wear, and they hit each other a lot. The noises coming from the box are kind of loud and weird but he doesn’t mind all that much. In fact, once he’s used to them, he finds the noises soothing as he lays tangled in Dean’s soft hair. It smells even more like the man up here. In his shirt, there are scents mixed in that throw Castiel off. Something floral comes from the inside of the pocket. And Dean’s hands stopped smelling like him when he cleaned the kitchen. But up here? Dean smells like Dean.

After a while, he starts feeling sleepy. He rubs at his eyes and shifts just a little bit so a fluffier tuft of hair is against his cheek. Then he sinks into the warm strands and drifts off to sleep.

[wolf-in-a-suit]

PHD in Matchmaking

A/N: This is my entry to @cleolemonfanfiction‘s writing challenge. Featuring a really pissed off Loki and you dear reader, victim to the fact that you’re Tony Stark’s stubborn friend:

Due to working on a project with Tony you are forced to share a room with none other than sunshine personified: Loki. Both of you find Stark’s hospitality to be thoroughly lacking, will you survive?

My prompt was: A Marvel character and the reader become roommates; they aren’t exactly easy to live with until they reveal their feelings to one another.

Pairing: Reader x Loki

Warnings: Language (nothing major), Loki being an a**

Word Count: 2.399

There was something fishy about Tony Stark’s proposal.

When he told you, one of his best friends way back from university, that he would love to work with you again, you should have been skeptical. His story started reeking when he proclaimed you should just live in the Avenger Tower, for the duration of your stay. Every living being with an intact survival instinct would have been more than careful - thus you accepted it.

After all it was Tony, and you were talking about THE Avenger Tower! As in: high gear equipment for research and a bunch of superhuman trotting around- so no big deal at all!

"Tony you can't be serious..." The billionaire just huffed and said: "Look I'm really sorry but due to construction work we simply don't have enough room, so this will have to do."

"Not enough room? We're talking about a fifty-six floored skyscraper!"

He just clapped your back and ignored all complains - as usual. "Just pretend we're back at the university and you've got a new roomie."

You simply hoped this wasn't one of his disastrous tries to play matchmaker. In your last year at MIT the genius suddenly came to the conclusion that he was the 'Date Doctor' – you should have never encouraged these delusions by watching the film with him- and his first victim (patient) had been your mutual friend. At the end of the month his crush had invoked a restraining order against all three of you.

Becoming infamous on campus had always been a dream, but something about being 'that-girl-with-the-restraining-order' just wasn't all it was cracked up to be-and it certainly didn’t help on the dating market.

"So... who is my roommate?" At this moment a fair skinned, black haired man, stepped into the room a bored expression residing on his face.

You just shook your head. "NO, way! Do you think I lived under a rock these past years? You're expecting me to share a room with the nut job who tried to destroy New York?"

Said nut jobs face changed at lightning speed to a murderous glare.

"How dare you, a mere mortal, an insect in the face of a god, disgrace the-" "Hush,-" you interrupted him right then and there "-the Grownups are having a conversation here."

Loki just stood... still, his brain still trying to process the sheer audacity of this mortal. Tony on the other hand was impressed: "This isn't a sight you see all days: Took us a Hulk to get him to shut up."

At the intensity of your glare the Tony Stark, billionaire, inventor and Superhero started fidgeting nervously. 'Time for a strategic retreat!'

"Yeah, the two of you will be just fine. See you at work." With that he was gone, leaving you to face down the self-proclaimed and pissed off 'god' on your own- high time to reevaluate your choice of friends.

Outside, the turn tail almost smacked into a mountain of muscle. "Wow, Goldy-Locks we've got to put a bell on you." Thor starred at the door concern swimming in his blue irises: "And you deem this to be a good idea? You do realize that my brother is mighty compared with your mortal standards, even with his powers bound by your machine?"

"Relax, big guy! ___ managed to hold me in check for years. How much worse can he be?"

This was followed by a loud crash. Both heroes exchanged glances and after a silent agreement was struck, simply dispersed as if no screaming echoed out of the room in question.

"How dare you low life lay a hand on my belongings?"

"What am I supposed to do just sleep on the floor? This is a bed not a bookshelf!"

"At last you seem to grasp your place!"

The bright blue sky had already given way to the red streaks of dusk.

"Do you think we should interfere?" Bruce Benner startled when a new wave of hollering pierced the air.

"At this rate someone is either going to die, or they are going to hook up." Black Widow retorted offering the assembled Team a bag of chips.

"Natasha I have the feeling you're enjoying this a bit too much. Can we really guarantee ___ safety?" Steve declined the snack appalled.

"As usual Cap you're boring! Just think about it: If she manages to get the wannabe emo to at least shut his mouth for a moment: I’d say it’s a full success." Salty crumbs escaped the heir of the Stark legacy’s mouth.

"100 bugs she won't last two days!" "I take you up on that arrow head!"

Half a dozen heads snapped to the door at the second loud crash disrupted the air.

Days passed and the annoyance started settling in his chambers. She had an absolute disregard for any form of human decency: Grabbing his books and stacking them up somewhere else, obscuring the marked pages in the process, reading late at night and keeping him awake in the process. Even sitting with her filthy human body on his cape and wrinkling it! His plan to dominate earth had never seemed so justified before: These creatures really needed someone to teach them manners! Or better yet-he found another wrinkle in the fine green wool- obliterate them from existence!

The mortal stumbled into his rooms late that night throwing, or trying to throw her lab coat over a chair where it fell to the floor in a heap.

“Do we also add filthiness to our many virtues now, hmm?” The scientist simply huffed, concerning well-adjusted to the jabs by now. “Good evening to you too!” Her bed moaned at the mass crashing onto it. For a few moments only the rustling of him turning delicate pages filled the room. When he felt the weight of stare settle on his shoulders, his eyes wandered to the second bed where he found her prone form watching him with some interest.

The mortal took his raised eyebrow as a cue: “So you’re reading Stephen King now? When did that happen?” The god of mischief’s lungs were filled with a suffering breath. “Obviously nothing of your planets dimwitted literature is capable of entertaining me for too long: So as you took the liberty of grabbing my books and shoving them around I took some of yours.”  

He waited for the inescapable fallout… but only got a huff and a: “Well than by all means: Enjoy our ‘dimwitted’ literature.” Soon the room was filled by the rhythmic fall and rise of her lungs, testament to the false security she thought herself in. Not concerned with the personified wrath, shackled as he might be –he regarded the collar, rendering his ability’s useless- inhabiting the same space as her.

The rays of the morning sun danced through the room, illuminating it in a golden glow. You stirred and opened a lazy eye. ‘You got to be kidding me!’ “Are you already reading again or have you never stopped?” Green eyes broke away from words and met yours. “Degraded as it may be, I must admit there is some merit to be found in your forms of fiction- however underdeveloped it may be.”

‘Aaaand good morning to you too, headache!’ Even when the man complimented something, he dragged it through the mud first. “For ‘underdeveloped’ literature you took quite a shine to it I’d say.” You eyed the tower of books piling beside his cot. A collection of Shakespeare, Charles Dickens and many others were stacked in a hazard manner forming a tribute to the leaning tower of Pisa. One could say much of the insufferable man, but he sure was a fast reader, but god forbid he would hear you complimenting anything about him. That would just feed his ego, inflating it to the eighth world wonder.

Thus the days passed, you worked with Tony and at night crashed in your room. At times, even having civil conversations with the black haired Asgardian. Well, scratch the argument the two of you had regarding his reading candles. How could such an advanced society still use freaking candles for light? Though, you suspected that was just Loki being in his no-one-could-ever-understand-me-cause-I’m-so-deep rebellious phase.

Your project regarding advanced bionic arms for amputees was taking bigger strides each day and would soon be finished.Than you would be out of here and free of the mood swings of his majesty. Tinkering with the sensor of the prototype a sudden sadness welled up inside you. These feelings were quickly brushed away however. Who had the chance to work in the Avenger Tower? It was only natural to be sad to leave it behind!

“Someone is in a disgusting good mood today. And stop that hideous noise, are you trying to sing?” You came to a sudden halt next to him sitting on the windowsill.

“What, are you a leading expert on music now too? It’s called humming!” Unimpressed he resumed turning to the next page. “There is no need to immerse myself in, what you humans might call music, to know that it will lack any originality, or that your ‘humming’ is an insult to every hearing thing that has the ill fortune to meet you.” Your chuckle drove green eyes to flash from the page to your face. “Your insults are becoming a little bit clunky, you should work on that. Although I must admit I walked right into that one.” When your expression started clouding he couldn’t help but inquire:

“Now that you have managed to annoy me yet again, one should think it would lift your spirits even more?” “Ahh, it’s just...” at the impatient ruck of his head you continued: “Tomorrow there will be a press conference about our new project and I can already tell that Tony is going to hog all the glory.” Your hands were raised in surrender, justifying yourself to air. “Not that he ever did it on purpose, but he’s just so charming and outspoken… people always tend to forget me when he’s around. It’s been like this ever since university.”

Loki pondered on this for a long moment. At last he seemed to come to a decision. You looked at him hopefully.

Perhaps this was the turning point, the two of you had a real conversation:

He wasn’t that bad honestly.

“Do you plan on murdering me with boredom? Because that insignificant tale, almost finished what my brother and his idiotic friends started.”

Clash! A Jane Eyre book hit him square in the royal visage. “HOW DARE YOU LITTLE MORTAL-“ His screams died in his throat when salty water leaked onto your cheeks.

“You’re honestly the WORST person imaginable! I thought we had finally found some common ground!” You hated this, you hated that you cried in front of him! You hated this bastard! Why did all that sass leave you when you needed it the most?

The god of mischief scoffed. “Common ground!? You relate more to an insect than to me…” an almost immeasurable pause “Why do you even care about that?”

A primal roar tore through the air. “Because, I care about you!”

Silence.

‘Shit! Shit, shit, shitshitshit!’ If you hadn’t just revealed your greatest weakness to the one person bend on destroying your whole planet, his expression would have been hilarious.

Still, like a statue he stood, with a finger still raised in the air. His eyes wide and expression matching the vacancy, that settled in his mind at your admission. You waited, bracing yourself for the mental pain –probably accompanied by being bitch slapped into next century- that was about to come.

Half a minute ,an eternity stretched by and you couldn’t bare it any more. So you hurried out of the room, leaving shame and misery behind you.

“Where the hell is it?” Tony already rummaged through the whole lab leaving discarded files, books and old takeaway containers in his wake. Searching through the living room for the last control sensor of your prototype he became more and more nervous. “Damn!” his hands dragged through his hair and left it disheveled. “The press is arriving in an hour!” You on the other hand couldn’t really pretend to be to bothered. Between Tony probably being the only one to interact with the press… and the incident yesterday you were already at rock bottom: so pretty comfy with the thought of your work just being dragged through the mud by the press.

Not even the mighty Avengers, vanquishers of foes beyond human comprehension, crawling around on the floor like a band of children playing hide and seek could lighten your mood. Thor started bench pressing the whole couch, because Natasha couldn’t get a good look under it.

Than he entered: Loki strode into the room annoyingly regal and composed as always. Your eyes tried to focus on anything that wasn’t the immaculate form of the Asgardian, but then you realized he strode directly to you. Oh, you had spent the rest of last night- sleeping -on the now airborne couch- about what insults you would cast at him. Anything to fight the rising shame in your gut about your display of weakness yesterday. You squared your shoulders, got into a fighting stance and raised your eyes to meet his with a glare.

But all words failed you when Loki fell in one fluent motion onto his knee and took your hand, raising it to his lips. You felt the peck and something else meet your hand. When he raised his head your stares intertwined, his contained an uncharacteristic warmth.

CRASH! The spell was broken by the thundering clash of the couch almost crushing Black Widow. Thor didn’t even register that the weight had left his hands, he just stared at the scene mouth agape. His brother, not able to contain the fast flash of a grin on his face, took this at his cue to leave. In another elegant motion he stood and left the room as if nothing had transpired between the two of you.

While everyone’s attention was still trained on Loki your turned your hand.

Inside it you found the sensor, a small slip of paper was attached to it: ‘Leave him to fidget some more!’ When the search party started shuffling awkwardly around you again, sending you deeply disturbed glances you slipped your hand into your pocket and felt a blush flame onto your cheeks.      

[prevdustinhendrsn]

The Palace

the party goes protesting | part 26 of Stories From Summer | 5.1k | AO3

a/n: here’s my contribution to SFS!! I really enjoyed writing this and also reading everyone else’s incredible stories. a lot of ya’ll changed urls so I tried to find the new ones as best I could. huge kudos to @mikeweezers for organizing this whole shebang; thank you Jazz!

June, 1985

“What the hell is this?” Dustin half shouts at Keith, the arcade employee who always seems to have a bag of chips with him.

“They’re tearing it down,” Keith says, his blue arcade shirt replaced with a Night Ranger one.

Max stares in disbelief at the SET FOR REMOVAL sign plastered over the chained door of the Palace Arcade. She’s known the arcade for all of eight months, yet the place was a safe haven for her, somewhere for her to go and zone out when life got to be too much. And if she’s feeling this devastated about it, she can only imagine how the rest of the party feels.

“Yeah, but why?” Lucas asks.

“Mayor Kline decided this ground would be better as a library.”

“But Hawkins already has a library!” Dustin protests.

“Yeah, and what about us?!” Mike adds. “We’re practically bankrolling this place!”

“Sorry, loser. The demolition is in a couple days - nothing I can do.” With that, Keith walks off, leaving the six of them staring dismayed at their second home.

“Shithead!” Dustin bellows after him.

“Unbelievable,” Max says, scuffing at the grass with her boot.

“Unbelievable,” Eleven agrees. Max glances sideways at her, wondering if she actually knows what the word means. Max is sure she does (she isn’t stupid) but lately she had taken to imitating some of the things Max said or did in an effort to adjust and be a normal teenager. It doesn’t bother Max as much as she thought it would.

“We can’t just let it close,” Will says.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Max drawls.

“What do we do, then?” Lucas asks.

They stand in silence until an idea slowly starts to form in Max’s mind.

“In California, in Bellflower a couple years ago – they were going to close the pool,” she starts. A smile crosses her face as the memory of California and her home resurfaces. “They were going to get rid of it to make room for a car wash. But nobody wanted it to close, so a group of high schoolers literally chained themselves to the fence and stayed there for three days straight.”

“Did they win?” Dustin asks.

“Um – no. But they only had a few people. There’s six of us, and all the middle schoolers will want to help, right?”

Will shrugs. “Maybe. Isn’t this sort of illegal though?”

Mike snorts. “Who cares about illegal, Hopper’s sleeping with Will’s mom so he has to let us do what we want.”

There’s a loud laugh from Dustin and Lucas and a mild complaint from Will, but otherwise they don’t disagree. Max looks at El, who has stayed silent, eyes glued to the clouds in the sky.

“El? You in?” she asks.

El’s head snaps down and she nods fervently like she’s been paying attention all along. “Yes! Yes, I want to help.”

Max looks around at them, grinning, glad to have a purpose. “Looks like we’ve got a plan, guys.”

Preparing everything for their thirty-six-hour stakeout takes several days and more arguments than Max anticipated. Convincing Hopper and Joyce to let El and Will stay out (and chain themselves to the doors of an arcade, no less) is a feat that Max feels rather proud of having accomplished. Sure, it takes some coercion and maybe a white lie or two about how Steve, a responsible adult, is definitely, totally going to be there the whole time, but they get through eventually.

“Okay, now we have to get the chains,” Mike says as the party huddles around the table in his swelteringly hot basement on the second day of their planning. “And someone needs to tell Steve to either stay with us or stay away from Joyce and the Chief.”

“We might want some food, too,” Max says. “Maybe some sleeping bags?”

“I can’t believe we’re actually going through with this,” Will groans. El shrugs, clearly just happy to be allowed out of the cabin for a whole night.

“And we need the rest of the kids from the middle school,” Lucas adds, ignoring Will’s complaint.

“Alright, Dustin and Will, you guys go round up as many kids as you can find – from the pool, the library, their houses, whatever. Me and El will get the chains and the locks and the snacks and all that. Lucas, Max, you go talk to Steve.” Mike steps back after he finishes doling out instructions and Max has to admire how well he leads their group. “Everyone clear?”

They all voice their assent and slowly filter out the back door, splitting up. Max jumps on her skateboard and easily keeps pace with Lucas on his bike as they head down the street towards Steve’s house.

“This was a good idea, Max,” Lucas says offhandedly. Max smiles, brushing the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. This June could give California a run for its money, she thinks.

“Thanks. I just – I really love that arcade, and I know you guys do too.”

“Yeah...I just don’t know how much Steve loves it.”

“You want to what?” Steve shouts after they hastily explain their plan. Max rolls her eyes impatiently.

“What we’re doing doesn’t really matter. We just need you to avoid Hopper and Joyce on Wednesday and Thursday, okay?”

“You’re seriously going to chain yourselves to a building while they demolish it?”

“They’re not going to demolish it because we’re going to stop them,” Lucas says.

“You guys are insane.”

Max shrugs. “The mayor’s obviously not going to help, so someone’s gotta do it.” Steve stares at them for a long time before finally letting out the heaviest sigh in existence.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll stay out of Joyce’s and Hopper’s way. But that doesn’t mean I condone this, dumbasses.”

The six of them spend the next day rallying kids. Will draws up a flier and after Jonathan helps them print a hundred copies of it, they divvy the pages up between them and run around town in pairs, handing them out and explaining their cause. By evening they’ve got a good majority of the middle school and even some high schools promising to come. Max collapses into her bed that night completely worn out. She falls asleep instantly, a bit of copier ink still smudged across her cheek.

Max is the last to show up at the Palace on Wednesday afternoon. Everyone else is already there, fifty or so kids scattered across the front porch, slowly getting chained to the support poles and handrails by her friends. She quickly locates Lucas and dashes up to him as he slides two links of chain through a padlock.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

“Hey, Zoomer. Don’t worry, we’re almost done. Our protest officially starts in fifteen minutes.” Lucas nods towards the front doors, where Eleven is sat underneath the fat red SET FOR REMOVAL sign. Max gives Lucas a quick kiss on the cheek and heads over to El.

“El! You ready?”

El nods solemnly, her nose a fantastic shade of sunburn red. “Ready.”

Max takes a length of chain from one of the many piles stacked around them and locks her skateboard to a handrail. Then she sits down next to El, and after a few minutes, the rest of the party joins her.

“You sure you guys want to do this?” Will asks nervously, taking a seat next to Mike. On Mike’s other side is El, then Max, then Lucas and Dustin.

“Absolutely,” Dustin says. “We’re going to take that bastard mayor down.”

“But chains?”

“It makes a statement,” Mike says.

“Where did you get all these chains anyways, Mike?” Max asks, eyeing the nearest length suspiciously.

“Nancy. She had loads leftover from ’83.”

Two minutes to noon, Mike gets to his feet and locks all of them up to the handles and beams around the front doors, handing each kid the key to their padlock. Max tries to make herself comfortable, but she’s already accepted that, between the heavy chains wrapped around her torso and legs and the concrete beneath her, it’s not going to be a pleasant thirty-six hours. Thankfully Mike leaves everyone’s arms free, and each kid has a bag of snacks with them. Most of the kids said they’d be going home for the night, but that doesn’t matter much to Max – it’s in the morning when the numbers will matter most.

Mike sits down and, with the help of El and Will, chains himself in. He glances at his watch with a smile. “It’s noon. We’re starting.”

Dustin grins. “This is gonna be worth every minute.”

“I’m having second thoughts,” Dustin moans. Max sighs, almost ready to voice her agreement. She’s never been so sweaty and bored in her life. So far, it’s been about as eventful as watching the news with her mom.

“Guys, come on, it’s only been three hours,” Will says.

“Only three?” Lucas asks in disbelief. They all let out a groan.

They munch on their snacks and pass around the one comic book that Will brought as the time slips by, each minute seemingly longer than the last. They unchain themselves every hour to stretch and use the bathroom in the (wonderfully air-conditioned) gas station across the street. They don’t encounter any police officers, thanks to Hopper, but several mothers throw dirty looks their way - not that it bothers Max (there’s very little that bothers Max). She’d flip them off if she could get away with it.

“I spy…something orange,” Mike says, bringing Max’s attention back to their game of I Spy. Desperate times, desperate measures.

“Is it my hair?” she says.

“Damn. Your turn.”

Max casts her eyes about the scene around them, finally landing on a green car pulling into the parking lot. “I spy something green.”

“Dustin’s booger? God, Dustin, get that out of here,” Lucas groans, pressing into Max’s side in an attempt to evade the product of Dustin’s nose. Dustin winces and digs a tissue out of his backpack.

“Is it that kid’s shirt, Max?” Will asks, pointing to his right. Max shakes her head. Eleven raises a hand and points directly the the car. Max lifts an eyebrow.

“Yeah, actually, it is the car. Your turn, El.”

“No, look.”

Max follows El’s line of sight. Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler have just stepped out of the car and are currently walking towards them, a dozen grocery bags in their hands. She leans across El to swat Mike and Will. “Hey, sibling alert.”

Nancy and Jonathan carefully step between the piles of kids to reach Max and the others. Nancy surveys them with a small smile. “Going strong, I guess?”

“Something like that,” Mike answers distractedly, poking at the plastic sacks. “What’s in the bags?”

Nancy drops them next to him and El helps pass several down the line. “Fuel. I figured Mom didn’t give you anything good.”

Jonathan nudges Will’s shin with his foot. “Mom really letting you stay out all night, huh?”

“Yeah, can you believe it? But why are you in her car?”

“Steve’s working on mine.”

From the far end, Dustin lets out a cheer. Max looks over to see that he’s discovered a massive bucket of Red Vines in one of the bags. “Nancy, you’re my hero,” he says, biting off the top halves of four Vines at once.

Nancy looks at him bemusedly. “Yeah, well, just try not to get killed by a wrecking ball tomorrow, okay?”

“Hey,” Mike says, grabbing Jonathan’s attention. “If you see your mom or Hopper, tell them Steve’s with us.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows furrow. “But he isn’t.”

“Well, they think he is, so just –“

Nancy rolls her eyes and grabs Jonathan’s hand. “We got it. We’ll cover for you. Good luck, guys.”

As they head back to their car and pull away, Max leans forward, gesturing for the Vines bucket. “Dude, share the love.”

The sun finally decides to set, which is both a relief and a misery as it cools the air and brings out the mosquitoes. Some high school girl pulls out a can of bug spray but by the time it makes its rounds to Max, it’s empty. She leans against the door and tilts her head to the deep purple sky. It doesn’t look anything like California sunsets. Here the colors are paler, less intense, more blended together, but it’s still beautiful in its own way, she decides.

She had expected all their buzz to die down with the sun, but if anything it’s the exact opposite. Everyone is ramped up on Twinkies and soda, excited that they’re spending a night outside home. It’s something about the exhilarating feeling of defiance and Max can’t deny she’s enjoying herself. El finds several packages of glowsticks inside one of Nancy’s grocery bags and goes absolutely ballistic when Will cracks one and it lights up bright pink. There’s all different kinds – sticks, necklaces, bracelets – in all different colors and enough for every kid there to have plenty. They start a take two and pass it down chain and by the time Max’s watch reads 11pm, the sky is black and the arcade’s exterior is lit up with kids laughing and talking in glowing neon colors.

“I wish we could get up and dance,” El says wistfully.

“To what music?” Will asks.

They’re all silent for a moment, and then a grin lights up Dustin’s face. “I know a song.”

Max whips around to look at him. “Dustin, I swear to god, if this is another one of your dumbass camp songs –“

“Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer! You take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall!”

The song comes out of Dustin’s mouth at max volume and immediately hooks the rest of the kids in. Max’s protests are only half-hearted – not a minute later the entire lot is singing along at the top of their lungs, swaying in their spots on the concrete, waving their glowsticks in the air, and Lucas is elbowing her, grinning at her, and she finally breaks and bellows along with them.

“Ninety-six bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-six bottles of beer! You take one down, pass it around, ninety-five bottles of beer on the wall! Ninety-five bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-five bottles of beer…”

Max croaks out at thirty-two bottles. Most of the kids die out between forty and twenty; in the end it’s a yelling contest between Mike and a junior boy that Max can’t even see. They both make it to the end and receive an outstanding applause from everyone.

“It’s midnight, is anyone going home?” Will asks once they’ve calmed down and recovered their breath. Max’s high from the combined sugar, glowsticks, and singing has finally worn off – she’s exhausted.

“None of us are, right?” Dustin asks, referring to the party.

“No, but I know some of the other kids wanted to go or weren’t allowed to stay.”

Mike lets out the bathroom-break whistle and there’s a loud jangling as everyone pulls out their keys to unlock themselves. Max gets to her feet and stretches her arms above her head as high as they’ll go.

“Mike, maybe we could forget the chains for the night?” El suggests, examining the deep red grooves left on her legs by the links.

“If I gotta pee, I don’t wanna wake everyone up to do it,” Lucas agrees. Mike shrugs.

“Yeah, sure. We can put them back on in the morning.” He turns to address the rest of the group. “Hey, it’s midnight – whoever wants to go home can now, just make sure you’re here at nine tomorrow!”

“Bathroom?” Will says, dropping the last of his chains on the ground.

“God, yes,” comes the party’s reply.

When they return from the gas station, the arcade is empty. Completely, entirely empty, the only sign of their protest being the piles of chains, candy wrappers, and glowsticks scattered around the place. Max gapes at the scene.

“Are you serious?” she asks of no one in particular.

“I can’t believe every single one of them left,” Lucas says.

With a shared sigh they move forward through the desolate remains, picking up all the trash and collecting the still-lit glowsticks in a bag. Dustin and El drag all of the chains into a massive pile in a corner and Mike dumps all the locks and keys into his backpack. When Max asks how he plans on matching each key and lock later on, he just shrugs tiredly. She gets it – they’re all feeling a mild sense of defeat.

“It’s just tonight,” El says reassuringly. “They’ll come back tomorrow.” They’re all too tired to argue.

Max collapses back into her spot, shoving her pillow under her head and crawling into the sleeping bag she brought. She hasn’t used it in ages; it still has the smell of Yosemite, from back when she and her dad would go camping every other weekend. The memory is bittersweet and she pushes it aside.

Her friends settle around her in their own sleeping bags. It isn’t comfortable by any means but she has Lucas right next to her and telekinetic El on her other side, and she forces herself to think of it as a group sleepover with concrete instead of carpet. The dull warmth of the night slowly washes over them, strengthening the sound of the loud cicadas that never seem to cease and the occasional noise from down the street that makes Max startle from her sleepy haze.

After a few minutes, she reaches out to find Lucas’ hand. He’s right there, his soft breath brushing her cheek. “Hey, Zoomer,” he whispers.

“Stalker,” she says with a sleepy smile, even though she knows he can’t see it.

“You tired?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They lay there in silence, all of Max’s slowly fading consciousness focused on Lucas’ warm hand in hers. Sleep…sleep…sleep…sleep…

“Is she snoring?”

Dustin’s outburst breaks sleep’s hold on everyone and there’s a collective groan. “Screw you, Henderson,” Max mumbles, just to top it off.

“Yes, Dustin, she’s snoring, alright?” Mike says defensively. “She does that. It’s cute. Leave her alone.”

A moment later there’s a loud snore from El and a barely-suppressed laugh from everyone.

“Can we get back to sleep now?” Mike says impatiently. Dustin huffs from Lucas’ other side.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, whatever.”

Max jolts awake, extremely disoriented. What the hell? She brings her watch to her eyes, wincing at the harsh light: 3:15am. Why am I awake?

She quietly sits up. The night slowly comes into view as her eyes adjust to the light provided by the streetlamps. Nothing looks out of place – all her friends are in line beside her, the streets are empty. Everything is quiet, save for El’s and Dustin’s (ironic) snores.

She’s about to shrug it off and go back to sleep when a rustling reaches her ears. She whips around to face the forest behind the arcade, straining to see anything in the darkness. There it is again – the crunch of leaves somewhere in the forest. Normal, sure, if there was wind. Which there isn’t,she thinks, dread gnawing a hole in her stomach. The noise in the forest gets louder, closer, accompanied now with the snapping of twigs. She still can’t see a damn thing.

A jagged, painful scene arises in her mind’s eye – the metallic scent of blood, the screeching of monsters outside, the intense, sharp fear that shuts down all motor functions. Not now, Mayfield. Get it together. This isn’t ‘84. With a tight swallow she pushes away the memory and shakes El. “Hey, El. El, get up.”

El is up and alert in a split second. “Yes?”

“I think there’s something out there,” Max whispers.

They both stare at the tree line, waiting with their hearts pounding in their chests. El makes a move to stand up, but at that moment, something darts out of the trees. Something small, fast, and most definitely cat-shaped.

Max slumps back against the doors with a heavy sigh. “Just a cat.”

“Are you sure?” El says, eyes following the cat’s path down the street.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

El shrugs like it’s no big deal, settling back down in her cocoon of blankets. Max stares at the spot across the street where the cat disappeared, waiting for her heart to return to its normal rate. After a minute she pulls her sleeping bag up around her then grabs her pillow and shoves it behind her head; laying down isn’t an option for her rattled nerves anymore.

“Are you okay?” El whispers. Max looks down at her – all she can see are her eyes.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“I know what you were thinking.”

Max winces. “Kinda hard not to think anything else these days.”

“You can talk to me,” El says softly, sincerely.

“I know. I’m just – I’m working through it.”

“When it gets bad, Hopper tells me to take it one day at a time.”

Max nods and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. “One day at a time."

El’s hand finds its way into Max’s and she squeezes it reassuringly. “Goodnight, Max.”

“Night, El.”

And Max drifts off quicker than she thought she would.

“Oh my god, my neck, my neck, my goddamn neck, my head’s going to be stuck this way for life.” Max slowly and painfully turns her head side to side, cringing at how bad the crick is. Her complaints wake up Mike, who lets out an even longer string of curses at his own neck troubles. Max looks around for her pillow – there it is, wedged between her thigh and Lucas’ head, having fallen in the middle of the night. With a sigh she leans forward to snatch it back, elbowing Lucas in the process. “Shit, sorry –“

Lucas responds with a grunt and doesn’t move a muscle.

The sun has barely crested the horizon yet Max can already feel the heat of the day creeping up on them. The town is still sleeping, the only open places being the bakery and the gas station. She shifts to lie down on top of her sleeping bag and dozes in and out for a while. Around eight-thirty she’s finally dragged to her feet by both the party and her bladder.

Mike lets out a yawn as he pulls a sleepy El up. “Bathroom and breakfast,” he says. They nod and make their way to the gas station, taking turns in the bathroom. After a stop in the bakery for two dozen donuts and some juices, they collapse back in their spots at the arcade, eating in silence as the sun begins its arc across the sky.

The kids start to trickle in at nine. By ten, everyone from yesterday is back, their sleeping gear has been shoved to the side, and Mike has all of them chained up again.

“We don’t back down, alright guys?” he says to the group at large. “We’re saving this arcade whether they like it or not.”

There’s a roar of approval from the kids and then Mike sits back down and locks himself up.

“Anyone know when the demolition is supposed to happen?” Dustin asks, licking his fingers clean of donut sugar.

“Ten-thirty, I think,” Mike answers. Max looks at him skeptically – the truth is, none of them really know how this is going to go. At the very best, they win their protest without argument. At the most likely, they win with quite a bit of argument. At the worst, they get thrown in jail, and at the very worst, they get killed by the demolition equipment (which Max knows is highly improbable, but after the events of ’84, she can’t help herself).

“We’ll win,” El says, as if reading Max’s mind. “I can feel it.”

It doesn’t do much to reassure any of them.

Soon enough, the construction company trucks pull into the empty parking lot and a dozen workers in orange helmets spill out. Their expressions of confusion clearly indicate they weren’t expecting resistance (it’s Hawkins – who is?). Max sits up a little straighter and glares right at them.

“You kids know you can’t be here, right?” the pot-bellied Man In Charge says.

“Actually, we can,” Max answers. “We have the right to protest.”

“Girl, I’ve got a job to do.”

“We don’t care,” Mike fires back. “Tell your boss we aren’t going anywhere.”

The Man In Charge lets out a heavy sigh and turns back to his crew. “Someone drive back to the building to tell the boss we’ve got a holdup.”

Max grins – it’s progress. The demolition crew piles back into their air-conditioned trucks to wait while one of their team is sent off to bring backup. The sun is relentless, bearing down on them like a hundred-pound weight of heat. Max pulls her hair into a ponytail and drains another one of the water bottles that Nancy brought them.

“Where’s the wrecking ball?” Will asks.

“I don’t think they can bring it until they have visual confirmation of the site,” Lucas says.

“Maybe they won’t bring it at all if we can stop them,” El adds hopefully.

Fifteen minutes later the company truck pulls back in. Three people climb out – the worker, the head of the company, and Mayor Kline himself. Max almost laughs – old man Mayor in an ill-fitting black suit doesn’t look like much of a threat to her. All of the kids swivel to glower at him, radiating defiance.

“What’s going on here?” he says jovially as he approaches them.

“We’re protesting the destruction of the Palace Arcade,” Mike declares.

“You’re – well, yes, I can see that. But the papers have already been signed, son. There’s nothing I can do.”

“Looks like we’re at a stalemate, then,” Max says smugly. “Because we want this arcade to stay just as much as you want it to go.”

There’s a shout of agreement from the kids around them. Mayor Kline looks more annoyed than angry, but just as he opens his mouth to say something else, another car pulls into the lot, drawing everyone’s attention.

It’s the Chief’s station wagon. The entire party’s breath catches in their throat as Hopper gets out and leisurely heads towards them. Is he here to stop us or help us? Max wonders.

“Sheriff!” Mayor Kline says by way of greeting. “Do you know about this?”

Hopper side-eyes the mayor. “It’s Chief. And yeah, I did.” Hopper turns his gaze to El. “Steve’s here, huh?”

El turns bright red at being caught in their lie. “Sorry.”

Hopper just shakes his head amusedly and pulls off his sunglasses, turning to Kline. “You’re really gonna tear this place down for another library?”

Kline stares at him, clearly taken aback by whose side he’s on. “I mean – nobody even goes to this arcade anymore –“

“That’s bullshit!” Dustin yells. Lucas slaps him and Hopper gives him a you better shut the hell up right now or I’m not helping you glare.

Will tries a calmer approach than Dustin. “Mayor, everyone comes here all the time. It’s one of the best places in Hawkins, right guys?” There’s a loud chorus of agreement and Will gives a winning smile. “We love it here.”

“See, Larry? They love it here,” Hopper says, lowering his voice so that Max has to strain to hear. “Look. I know what you’re getting out of this deal, even if you’ve bullshitted the county board into thinking it’s out of the goodness of your heart. ”

Max’s jaw drops as Kline’s eyes widen and his hands start fidgeting with his tie. “I don’t – I mean – it’s not – I really don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Sher – Chief.”

Hopper smirks. “Yeah, I think you do. And I don’t think the board would be too eager to support your reelection campaign next month if they knew how big a cut you’d be taking from this.”

Mayor Kline gapes at him. “Are you blackmailing me?” Hopper raises his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“All I’m saying is that it’s probably in your best interest to leave this place standing.”

Max is triple-taking. She looks at the rest of her friends, just to make sure she’s not imagining things – they’re shell-shocked too, frozen in place at this turn of events.

Kline is absolutely speechless. His eyes dart from Hopper to the construction crew to the arcade and back, sweat beading on his forehead – though Max thinks that could just be from the heat. She doesn’t even know if anyone’s breathing anymore.

Finally, Kline heaves a sigh and turns to the truck. He pulls a few sheets of paper out through the window and returns to Hopper. “Looks like you win this one, kids.” He resignedly tears the demolition contract in half and the entire lot erupts in shouts and cheers as the pieces flutter to the ground.

“We did it!” Dustin yells, reaching out to hug whoever he can. Max grins as she hugs Lucas with one arm and attempts to get out of her chains with the other. They finally get themselves untangled and rush through the crowd towards Hopper. Mayor Kline is nowhere to be found.

“Thank you so much, Hopper,” Mike says breathlessly. “I don’t think we could’ve won that without you.”

“El told me how important this was to you guys,” Hopper answers with a smile. “And I knew Kline had something shady going on.”

“How could you be positive, though?” Lucas asks.

“Had some help.” Hopper points to his station wagon and they all turn to see Nancy Wheeler, junior clerk at the city hall, standing by the door with a grin on her face. Max internally smacks herself – of course it was Nancy. She makes a mental note to thank her later.

Max pushes through the kids to yank the red SET FOR REMOVAL sign off the front doors. She holds it high above her head and with a loud cheer, throws it to the ground. “We saved the Palace!”

Thus begins the thundering chant of “We saved the Palace!” from every soul and Lucas appears from the crowd, grinning like the sun.

“Good job, Mayfield.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Max says. “I did it so I could keep on kicking your ass at Dig Dug.”

Lucas scoffs and grabs her wrist to pull her close. “Just you wait. I’m getting better.”

“Sure you are.”

She closes the distance between them and their kiss echoes all the triumph and celebration around them. Somewhere over the fireworks in her head, Mike declares they all deserve celebratory ice cream, and when Lucas pulls away and beams at her with more pride and love than she’s ever seen, she’s never felt more like a winner.

tagging the whole sfs gang

@mikeweezers / @el-and-hop / @summer-in-hawkins / @martiegalwrites / @partwayhappy / @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold / @cstlebyrs / @janeswheeler / @formerlyjannafaye / @jane-el-hopper / @themikewheelers / @elizabthturner / @the-proud-princess / @itcouldbendoritcouldbreak / @scottsclarke / @the-most-beautiful-broom / @hannahberrie / @dancingskygreen / @mileven-and-contemplation / @eddieksgazebos / @mikeswheelers / @moodyandmoonyeyed / @jopper-chopper / @earlgreyteagirl / @janehoppers / @michael-hearteyes-wheeler / @stevemossington / @thezoomermax / @writer-lia

[rosalynbair]

Love to Give

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Warnings: none, this is just lame and a little fluffy Summary: The reader is assigned to help catch Peter up on some class work that he’s missed.

You walked through the dim halls of the high school, nodding to a few people clustered around a locker. You went to yours a few lockers down, spinning the lock to the proper numbers and pulling down, opening the beige door to your tidy locker. You remove your fall coat, shoving it in and hanging it on the hook, grabbing the cardigan that you kept in there for classes. You swing your bag around, opening the zipper and grabbing the math text book from the bottom of your locker, placing it in the bag, trying not to squish or wrinkle your English homework in the process. You shut the door, locking it once more and heading down the hall, the music playing through your headphones. You turn the corner, holding the straps of your backpack as you passed some of the school’s football players, keeping your head down as you left their sight. Your ex boyfriend was on the team, and he had basically broken your heart after getting mad that you didn’t want to go to the same university as him. You entered the math room, going to your regular seat and pull out your textbook and binder, glancing up at the lesson for the day on the board, flipping to the page you needed to be on to start the lesson. You were almost always in class early, you didn’t like people watching you, so you came early and worked on the days assignment so you could doodle at the end of the period. You were writing down some of the answers to the questions on the page that would be assigned, hearing someone else walk in, probably one of the teachers to talk to your homeroom teacher. “Mr. Parker” Mrs. Henderson said, looking up from her computer, you glance up, seeing Peter walking to her desk, his eye bruised and a slight limp as he walked. “Hi Mrs. Henderson, I was wondering if I could get the work from the past few days so I could catch up?” He asked, holding the strap of his backpack. Peter was cute, in a dorky kind of way. But you had never spoken to him before, your crowds didn’t mix often, but you weren’t quite sure what type of crowd you were in anymore. Since your breakup with Dan, you no longer hung out with them, you were usually by yourself. You had lost a lot of friends by choosing to date Dan. You now spent the majority of the time in the art room with some other students in your class. “Ms. Y/L/N?” your teacher asked, snapping you out of the thoughts of solving an equation. “Yes?” you asked, not used to being talked to so early in the morning. “Can you catch Mr. Parker up on what he’s missed this week?” You knew it wasn’t a request. “Uh yeah, sure” You say quietly, glancing to Peter as he moved to sit beside you. The tables in the room were two to a person, and you usually had the full table to yourself. You move your textbook onto your side, watching as he pulled his stuff out. “So um, I’m Y/N” You tell him, trying to make nice. “I’m Peter… You’re dating Dan Stevens, right?” He asked. You flush, shaking your head. “No, not anymore” You tell him. You flip through your binder, finding the work from earlier in the week, pulling it out and handing it to him. “Here, we can work on it today in class, or you can come over after school and work on it at my place, that way you can work on today’s lesson and not miss it” “I can come over, I don’t want to be any more behind” He tells you, his cheeks turning a slight pink. He had had a crush on you since high school orientation right before grade nine. He couldn’t believe he was actually talking to you. “Okay, um, meet me in front of the school after last class, I’ll drive you” You tell him, pushing the textbook towards him to show him todays lesson. The bell rang, and people started filing in, Dan looking at you with Peter with a glare. ~ When the school day ended, you went to your locker, grabbing what you needed for homework, and your coat. You start to head to the front of the school. “So what’s with you and Parker” A voice coming from beside you asked. You glance over, seeing Dan walking beside you. His chiseled features looking far too old for his age, his hair messy. “Nothing. I’m helping him catch up in a few classes.” You say before adding “It’s none of your business anyways.” You go down the stairs, walking out the front door, eyes scanning the front before landing on Peter. You trek over, avoiding any collisions with other students. “Ready to go?” You ask, seeing him texting someone on his phone. “Oh, yeah” He said, looking up and shoving his phone into his pocket “I was just letting my aunt know I’d text her when to pick me up” “Okay” You say, pulling your keys out of your pocket and walking over to your tope coloured 2012 Malibu, unlocking it and tossing your bag into the back seat. You slide in, waiting for Peter to put on his seatbelt before pulling out of the parking lot. The drive was quiet, save for the music playing through the speakers. There wasn’t really anything to talk about, since you two didn’t know each other. You pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building you and your mother lived in, parking and getting out, grabbing your bag. You go in, unlocking the door and giving Peter a small smile, trying to think of something to say as you walk up the stairs, unlocking the door to the apartment. “Well um, this is it” You say, rubbing the back of your neck as you kick off your shoes. Peter jumps when he hears a small bark, your King Charles Spaniel running over to you, tail wagging furiously as he hops up. You lean down, giggling as you let him lick your face. “This is Leo” You tell Peter, picking the dog up and scratching behind his ears. “He’s cute” Peter tells you, reaching over to let Leo sniff his hand. You nod, smiling and setting Leo down, letting him follow you to your bedroom. You set your bag down on the bed, opening the curtains to the window. “Do you want a drink or anything?” You ask, glancing over to Peter who was taking his books out of his bag and setting them on your desk. “I could go for water” He says, giving you a smile. “That’s boring. I’ll get you an iced tea” You say, leaving the room and grabbing two cans from the fridge, and a bag of chips. You return to your room, smiling when you see Peter holding a rope, Leo biting the other end. “Keep that up and you’ll be his best friend” You tell him, sitting on your bed and handing Peter a can of iced tea. You start working on the homework you were assigned, catching Peter up on what he had missed in math. Peter was good at math, he didn’t need help with it. English on the other hand, he had no idea what to do for the essay. “So we have two options, the easiest is the second one. Describing the conflicts in the book.” You tell him, munching on a chip. “Conflicts?” He asks, his voice trailing. “Y’know, man versus man, man versus world, man versus person. That kind of thing. I can give you my book if you want, I laid that stuff out with sticky notes when I was reading it” You tell him, riffling through your bag to find your copy of of mice and men. You hand it to him. Over the few hours, he had migrated to sitting on your bed with you, laughing at your horrible English puns that you thought would open him up a bit. “Hey, do you wanna break for the day and watch some tv or something? I can order dinner” You offer, suddenly nervous. You were taking this beyond study buddies. But you didn’t care. You liked his companionship. “That sounds cool” He says, standing up and following you to the living room, where you plopped down with your chips, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv. “What do you want to watch? You’re into science and stuff, right?” You ask, looking over. “Yeah.” He replies, nodding as he reads the titles on the screen. “You ever watch Forged in Fire?” You ask, going into your recently recorded menu. “Nope” He says, reading the description for one of the episodes. “Do you wanna?” You ask, you liked the show, it was fun. “Sure” You turn on the episode, grinning. “Lighten up Peter, I’m not gonna bite you” You say, shifting closer to him, trying to get him to open up and talk a bit more. “I’m sorry” He says, blushing “I’m not good around pretty girls” “You think I’m pretty?” You ask, a small blush on your cheeks. “Yeah” He whispers. “Well, I think you’re pretty cute too” You say, leaning in and kissing his cheek. He flushes darker, and you shift closer, curling into his side as the show played on. Leo came up, sitting on Peter’s lap. You could see that he adored Leo. “Have you never had a pet?” You ask him, wanting to know more about him. “I had a hamster once” He says, smiling “It died after a few years, His name was bugs. Y’know, after bugs bunny” “You named your hamster after a rabbit?” You say, laughing. “Yeah, stupid right?” He grins “I also had a fish for a while. But it jumped out of it’s bowl.” “Geeze” You laugh “What did you do to it to make it want to die” “I don’t know” He laughs, his arm wrapping slowly around your shoulders “What about you, is Leo the only pet you’ve had?” “Nope. We had a cat when I was really little, she’s with my dad. My dad got the cat in the divorce, my mom got the dog. That’s when we had Winnie, she was Leo’s mom. She died last year from old age. We were thinking about getting another dog for Leo to have a friend. But we never got around to it” “So you’re a dog person?” “I love dogs” You say with a smile. “They’re so pure. I’d own fifty if I could” “That’s a lot of dogs” He tells you. “I’ve got a lot of love to give” You reply. “Do you think some could be spared for a nerdy boy with a black eye?” He asks, glancing over to you nervously. “Maybe” You say, smiling.

[minsugasnerd]

Am I Dreaming?

Since I had a pretty sleepless night, I decided to work on a story I wrote a while ago. Enjoy this Namjoon one shot. 

As always, thank you for reading! -T

Warning: Mentions of anxiety

Genre: ? IDK :P

I can't help but to stare at this beautiful man. Noticing his height that has to be near six feet, it makes me so short in comparison. Hair that had been dyed to reach its blonde state was barely long enough to run my fingers through it. But I still wondered how it would feel if I were to run my fingers through his blonde locks. 

'Keep your eyes and saliva to yourself y/n!' I try to pry my eyes away but I can't. He caught me looking and smirks, showing off the most beautiful dimples I’ve ever seen. ‘Oh no! Shit! He's noticed and he's walking towards me!’ His posture as he walks seems effortless and just a bit intimidating. 'Don't forget how to talk!' 

He stops right in front of me and slicks his hair back, which only falls back into place, partially obstructing his beautiful forehead. He holds out his hand for me to shake, "Hello. I wanted to introduce myself, I'm..." Dammit! My alarm always wakes me up before he tells me his name in that gorgeous voice of his. A voice that sent shivers down my spine.

I lay in bed for a minute, my eyes focusing on the poster I hung up on my ceiling.

"It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell," Buddha. 

Every day is a battle for me, I can't think too far ahead of what's in front of me. If I do my breathing quickens, my chest tightens, sometimes my vision blurs, and my head swims. On occasion I pass out, but that hasn't happened since I started my medication. Pushing the comforting covers off of me, I get up and start my day. I'm always so shocked at how cold the bathroom tiles are against my feet. I turned on the tap to fill my cup with water to take my pill. It’s kind of ironic how something, no bigger than the size of my pinkie fingernail can fix my biggest problem. A sigh of relief comes after, knowing that my worries will stay at bay at least for a little while. 

After I'm dressed, I head out to catch the 8:45 bus that gets me to my job on time. Although I don't think I can call it a job, working at a bookstore is my own little slice of heaven. Being surrounded by books old and new, big and little, fiction and non-fiction, I love it. It also doesn't hurt that the owner is like family to me. The day I met him is the day I'll never forget. My mom sat down at one of the tables, feverishly looking for a job and a place for us to stay. 

I tugged on her sleeve, "Mommy! I found this book I really, really want. Please mommy can I get it?" 

She looked sally between me and the book, "honey, one day mommy will get you everything your heart desires. But I can't afford to spend anything right now." Her eyes started to well up with tears. She had been crying a lot since daddy left us with nowhere to go. Next to nothing really.

"Okay mom, I didn't mean to make you cry!" She wiped her tears away, “I love you." She smiled down at me. I turned away and went to put the book back on the shelf. That's when I bumped into Milo Cartwright, the man who saved us.

"Why the sad face? A beautiful young lady such as your self should be smiling," his voice sounded silly. He seemed like a nice man, but my mom taught me never to talk to strangers. "It's okay you don't have to say anything. My name is Milo, I own this store. Do you like books?" he asks. I nod. "That's good! Reading is very good, especially at such a young age." 

He turns to the shelf and starts to take down a book when I hear my mom start walking towards us. "Y/n, what did I say about strangers?" I move to hide behind her.

"Oh no worries ma'am. She didn't bother me, not a peep came from her mouth. Like a little lamb she is," he looks at me and winks. He looks at my mom and bends down to my level. "y/n? Why don't you take this book to one of the comfy chairs over there so I can have a chat with your mum. Okay?" I timidly take the book he previously looked for and went to go sit in the chair. After a few minutes, I looked up from this book about a fantasy island to see my mom crying again. He handed her a piece of cloth that he pulled from his pocket and she wiped her tears away. In that moment, I hadn't seen a smile that big on her face in a long time. He saved us, gave my mom a job and helped us find a place to call home.

The familiar chime of the bronze colored bell sounds as I enter Page by Page. Milo looks up from his spot behind the counter "Good morning my little flower!" offering me his cheek to kiss.

"Morning Papa Milo," I love this man dearly. I wipe my rose tinted lip print from his face and ask how it’s going this morning. "It's going slow," he sighs. "But! It's not even ten o'clock yet, things are bound to pick up." I love his optimism. "Plus I have woken to see another beautiful morning. What can be better than that?”

I nod in agreement as I hang my jacket up, "Is there anything I can get you papa?" 

He sits down behind the register, I already know what he's going to say, “The usual is just fine." 

I pull our favorite mugs from the shelf. Pouring a cup of decaf for him and adding an Egyptian Licorice teabag to my hot water. While his blueberry muffin is heating up in the toaster oven, I head outside to retrieve the newspaper from the vendor on the corner. I go back to the shop and bring papa his breakfast. "You're too good to me," he says as he pats my hand.

The day stayed slow. I had finished the to-do list that was set out for me in no time at all. There were only a few customers. A man in his late fifties with a kind smile picked up a crossword puzzle book for himself and some romance novel for his wife. A mom with an adorable toddler purchased a book about potty training. Milo slipped a sweet in the bag for the kid. A man, couldn't be much older than me, covered in a lot of colorful tattoos grabbed a book from the self-help section. He sheepishly smiled at me and I smiled back, because who am I to judge? Since it was dead in here and I already finished tidying up the shop, I grabbed a book and sat in the window seat by the door. It's been my favorite spot since I was a kid. I hadn't been reading for long before I looked up and out the window.

The usual pedestrian traffic filled the sidewalks and crosswalks. The colors of their clothing blend as they all rush to wherever it is they're going. I'm thankful to be inside instead of out. Being around too many people, too many strangers, and multiple scenarios is what triggers my anxiety. I start feeling those dreadful and all too familiar feelings and I can't stop it. I never know how bad it'll be, each time unpredictable. My mom always told me to just keep breathing and everything will get better. And eventually it did.

Breaking the gazing spell, papa calls for me. "What are you in the mood for?" Every night we have dinner before heading to our separate homes.

"What about kalguksu and dumplings tonight? If that's okay with you." Mommy’s Dumpling House is a place not more than twenty minutes from here that delivers. It was the best Korean restaurant I’ve ever eaten at, hell the best restaurant I’ve eaten at period.

"That sounds excellent my dear," he grabs the cordless phone and sits once again behind the register and starts placing our orders. My stomach grumbles in anticipation. While we waited I set out bowls and cups on the table closest to the door. 

Growing up without a lot of money taught me to eat what my mom got for me. Some nights were better than others, for instance I hated when it was fish and chips night, because I wasn’t a big fan of fish until much later in life. I knew it was a good night if I smelled garlic wafting up from downstairs. That meant Italian. Or the nights where my stomach heated up on the first bite of the lamb with curry sauce. I cherished those nights, all of them. I'd give anything to have just one of them with my mom again.

A few sharp knocks against the door brought me back to the present, our dinner. I go to open the door without looking up and rifle through my wallet to pay for dinner. "Hello, I’m Namjoon. I've got a delivery from Mommy’s Dumpling House," my hands fumble and I drop my wallet. My legs transform to jelly. That voice sent instant shivers throughout my body. I look up to see the man from my dreams and nearly collapse.

If you came this far: I know I need to work on my writing, but seriously, thank you for taking your time to read this! <3 T

[cylonbarnes]

Reddie’s Hammock Secret Santa 2019 Fic

This gift is for Lyra @sarcastic-soprano who requested any Reddie fic involving music. I went the Shark Puppy route.

Length: 4k

Warning: this fic is a hot mess of changing vibes and tones and forgetting characterization because I wrote half of it last month and half of it in the past week. That isn’t to say I didn’t try - just that the busy month realllly got to me 😅

The cassette was thrust into Eddie’s hand at some point during orientation. He didn’t remember when - he didn’t have a cassette with a weird Animorph-esque cover (which made more sense once he realized what the band was called - why did ‘Shark Puppy’ sound cute when the art was absolutely nightmarish?) when he started his quest to find the cafeteria building, but he had it by the time he sat down. Eddie had (somehow gathered): one Shark Puppy cassette, 3 religious pamphlets, a map, a flyer for a wild party at Torrence Hall that night, and a badge for ROTC. 

He laid all of the above in front of him at the table, cautiously putting the map, cassette, and party flyer into his messenger bag, the rest going swiftly into the trash can as he walked up to grab a tray.

He forgot about the cassette for a week. Eddie Kaspbrak wasn’t really a music guy. People found that odd when he said it, but he didn’t mind at all. His mind was busy enough - surely music was nothing but distracting, especially when studying, which was all he was doing lately. One week in, and college was beating his ass.

He’d made a friend, thank god, a girl in his Philosophy class. Beverly Marsh, with her red hair and knowing smile, latched onto Eddie almost immediately. They felt like kindred spirits, magnets who stuck together on day one and sat next to each other every day since. 

“What’s this?” she asked, rummaging through his shelves. They were meant to be studying, and Eddie was, book open on his desk showing a statue of Socrates. All these old Greek dudes looked the same, he thought, highlighting the birth and death years of the philosopher. Marble heads with beards and some line of thought that contradicted every other philosopher’s line of thought. 

That wasn’t something Eddie liked - he liked facts, numbers, black and white answers. Bev, however, was great with the course, asking questions about everything, musing on the various dialogues. 

“Hm?” he answered, looking up. Bev held between her fingers, coated with chipping black nail polish, that cassette tape from the other week. “Oh, I dunno. Some tape I got on orientation.”

“Where’s your boombox?”

“I don’t have one… Stan has a cassette deck, though. Be careful, if he sees us touch it he’ll go wild.”

Bev smirked, and quickly waltzed to the other side of the room. If Eddie’s side was clean, Stan’s was impeccable. Everything in its proper place. 

She snapped the tape into place in the machine and pressed play. The music started immediately, but Eddie wouldn’t exactly call it music… it was screeching guitars and singing that barely deserved the word. 

“Turn it down!” he shouted over the noise, but Bev seemed to enjoy it, dancing along like a blow-up man outside a car dealership.

“It’s good,” she said back.

Eddie blocked his ears. “It’s not even music!”

He tried to study through the song, but as the second started and was more unintelligible than the first, he strode across the room and ejected the tape.

“What, you don’t like grunge?” Bev asked, folding her arms. The smile at the edge of her lips showed that she already knew the answer.

“I don’t really like music.”

She dropped her arms. “Like, any music? Not even classical, or the Beatles, or like… Christmas music?”

“I mean, music is fine, it’s just not really my thing. I can’t concentrate with it on.”

“Hm.” She murmured, but relented. Flopping herself back onto Eddie’s bed, she paged through her textbook. “You’re an odd cookie, Kaspbrak.”

Eddie shrugged at that.

The door opened and Stan Uris entered, looking scholarly as ever. Stan was a good roommate, especially when Eddie considered the possibilities - there was a reason they didn’t study at Bev’s dorm, and her name was Greta. 

“Hey, Stan,” Bev said, and Eddie raised a hand of greeting. "How're you doing?"

Stan put his bookbag on the chair and grabbed a jacket out of the closet. “I’m just dropping some stuff off. How was your day?”

“All good, we’re just studying. Are you headed to the library?” Eddie asked. 

Stan shook his head. “No, I’m actually... going to a party.”

“Like that?” Bev scoffed.

Stan glanced down at his clothes. Sensible button up, sensible slacks, sensible shoes. The Uris wardrobe. 

Bev hopped off the bed, on a mission. She pushed Stan aside, sifting through his closet. She pulled out things at random, a pair of pants here, a t-shirt there. Once she had gathered some suitable options, she went to mixing and matching them on Stan’s bed. Stan and Eddie simply watched in wonder - they just wore the things they’d always worn, outfits that their mother’s had pre-approved that never stepped too out of the mainstream.

Bev, however, paired Stan’s only pair of jeans - pushed to the back as they had gotten a tear in the knee that he needed his mother to repair - with an oversized shirt he only wore for sleeping. Lastly she grabbed a plaid button-up that he typically wore tucked in, and told him to just layer it over the rest. Eddie and Bev turned around while he changed. 

“Damn kid, you almost look cool!” she said, mussing up his hair. “Shoes, shoes… sneakers.”

“Those are for exercising.”

“And they’re better than all your leather lawyer shoes. How old are you, anyway? Fifty?”

Stan relented again. His face showed protest, but honestly he liked the experience - if this girl thought he looked good in this stuff, maybe girls at the party would, too.

“Why are you going to a party, anyway?” Eddie asked.

Bev laughed. “Yeah, not where, not who with, but why? Ha!”

Stan scrunched up his face. “Just some friends.”

“We’re coming with you,” Bev said.

“What?” said Stan.

“What?” said Eddie.

“Wipe those looks off your faces. Where are we headed, Stanley?”

Stan tried to fight them - verbally, of course. Stanley Uris was, as a rule, not interested in fisticuffs, but he was perfectly ready for a debate. Bev was neither into physical or mental fighting - she simply let Stan know that they were going to follow him, and if he wanted to get where he was going, they were going as well, whether he liked it or not (of course, the answer was not). 

Bev dressed Eddie as well, and while he was already less grandpa-style than Stan, it was still a departure from his usual look. She let him keep the fanny pack, at least, and otherwise has him in a sweatshirt and jeans, again with messy hair. Unlike Stan, he also relented to some very slight eyeliner. It was college - he was willing to experiment with his look, provided it was an objectively cute girl telling him to.

Eddie knew Bev was cute, but he didn’t actually see it himself. Stan saw it - Eddie could tell, with certain looks he’d give her, a blush to his cheeks when she brushed past him. Eddie had never felt that though, much as he’d tried. He liked being friends with her, though, and she seemed glad to have a friend who didn’t want anything more from her than that.

The party was at Torrence Hall, the dorm building that had a party going on somewhere within its walls almost every night. He preferred living in Mears, which was quiet and no one ever peed on the hallway carpet (Stan told them that story on the walk over, of the mysterious hall-peer over in Sheldon Hall. Eddie almost barfed).

“So, Stan,” Bev started. She was already party ready in her sundress and clunky shoes, a plethora of bracelets tinkling together on her slender, freckled wrists. “Eddie’s question may have been dumb, but you still need to answer it. Why are we going to this party?”

“I said, friends.”

“Yeah, right, cool. What friends?”

Stan didn’t answer that. “It’s not going to be that good of a party, you know. You guys could get the big picture of it all before the band even starts. Get out while you still can, you know?”

Bev’s eyes twinkled. Eddie thought that might be a superpower only she was capable of - full on twinkling. “What’s the band?”

Stan looked at the ground. “Uh… something about a puppy.”

“Shark Puppy?” Bev asked.

Stan nodded.

Eddie groaned.

This many people in this small of a space was a fire hazard. Eddie had never felt so claustrophobic in his life, pushing past hordes of teenagers in a series of dark rooms, getting covered in the smell of beer and weed despite partaking in neither. 

Luckily, he found soda. Unluckily, he lost Stan and Bev in his search. Stan has assured him that the band would be playing later, they hadn’t missed them. Eddie was only slightly disappointed.

“Howdy,” came a voice from just behind him. 

He turned, coming face to face with… a face. An attractive face, certainly, but too close to Eddie’s own for him to feel comfortable. He stepped back.

“Oh,” he said. “Hi.”

He’d seen this face before, or rather, this boy. Passed him in the halls or the cafeteria, seen him wandering with his friends outdoors or, just once, engrossed in a book in the library. Eddie had never learned his name, but he’d paid close attention to everything else - his dark hair, curling at the nape of his neck as he leant over a table reading; his lips, spread wide in a laughing smile; his eyes, magnified behind his thick black glasses. 

Eddie wasn’t obsessed, he told himself. He had to tell himself, because he couldn’t tell anyone else.

But now the boy was in front of him. 

“I’ve seen you around,” the boy said. “Mears Hall, right? You know Stan.”

Eddie nodded, slightly dumbfounded. 

“Cool, he’s a good dude. I’m Richie, by the way. Tozier.” He held out his hand to shake, and Eddie marveled for a moment at the slender fingers, the rings he had adorning them. Eddie himself had long enjoyed that look, but he felt like he couldn’t pull it off. Richie could. 

Eddie shook his hand. He already knew his name, of course. It felt like everyone on campus did, even though he was a freshman. Eddie didn’t share the same fame.

“I’m Eddie.” 

“Eddie, nice. Is this your first party?”

Eddie looked at his feet. “How could you tell.”

“Your face. Also your, uh,” he waved a hand around in front of Eddie’s chest, “everything.”

Richie said it with a laugh. In high school, when people said mean things with a laugh, Eddie felt like shit. But this didn’t feel mean, it felt like he was in on the joke. 

“Do you know Bill?” Richie asked. 

Eddie shook his head. “Nope.”

Richie grabbed his hand, startling Eddie - but he didn’t pull away. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Eddie couldn’t help the redness that overtook his cheeks as another boy held his hand, no matter the context. 

“Hey, Big Bill!” Richie shouted as they got closer to the makeshift stage - which was the same level as everything else, of course, just a drum kit, microphone, and speakers with a white sheet tacked to the wall behind them that someone had written SHARK PUPPY on in permanent marker. 

The boy that Eddie assumed to be Bill waved in return. “Look who the cat dragged in!”

Richie smiled and held up his hand - still holding Eddie’s. “I’m the one doing the dragging!”

Bill rolled his eyes. “Oh jeez.”

“This is Eddie.” Richie said.

“Well, Eddie, I’m sorry that Trashmouth here has latched onto you like an anglerfish.”

Richie let go of Eddie’s hand and crossed his arms. “Hey! Eddie here knows Stan the Man.”

Bill’s face changed from one of playful disdain for the apparent Trashmouth to a welcoming smile for Eddie. “Oh, awesome!” He dropped the bundle of wires he was trying to untangle - Eddie believed they were for the microphone - and stepped over them, pulling Eddie into a hug.

“Any friend of Stan is a friend of mine!”

“I’m so confused,” Eddie muttered. 

Bill held him at arm’s length, his eyebrows furrowed. “We’re Stan’s bandmates?” 

“His what?”

Richie laughed, hard enough that he genuinely bent over and slapped his knee. When he got over it, he stood straight and wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. “Oh, that explains a lot.”

Eddie stared at him, ready for more explanation, only to be interrupted by Stan’s arrival. 

“Hey, Eddie, I- oh, shit.”

Shark Puppy were scheduled to play in thirty minutes. Scheduled was a broad term, to the band, enforced on them by their bassist, who was now regretting his choices based on the fact that he now had thirty minutes to explain to his roommate what was happening.

Or rather, Richie had thirty minutes to talk to Eddie while Stan’s anxiety grew with each passing moment.

“I feel responsible,” Richie said, a grin spreading across his cheeks. He had the easiest smile Eddie had ever seen, and he’d seen it a few times now, every time as dazzling as the last. It wasn’t like he had the nicest lips or teeth - well, maybe he did have the nicest lips… - but it was what it did to his eyes, turning them into little crescents of joy that Eddie felt warm just to be a part of. “I’m the reason Stan hasn’t told you about Shark Puppy.” 

He said it all with a gravitas that almost spilled over into laughter, one hand pressed to his heart. Stan hung his head. “Oh my goodness.”

“I didn’t even know you played an instrument. It’s not in the dorm!” Eddie said, still confused by the whole thing. Someone pushed past his elbow - he’d almost forgotten the rest of the party existed. Bev was out there, somewhere in the sea of bodies.

“Stan keeps his bass in our room for practices,” Bill said. Eddie couldn’t tell who was who in the band just yet, outside of Stan, but he thought Bill would make a good lead singer. 

Though Richie had a certain Mick Jagger quality to him.

“Stan won’t dedicate his life to the art like us,” Richie said derisively. “He’d rather make money with… law, or accounting, or whatever… than be a starving artist.”

Stan shrugged. “I like to have a back up plan. If I’m gonna incur mountains of debt with my college education, I’d like actually be able to pay it off.”

Richie scoffed. 

“I have your tape,” Eddie blurted out suddenly. “It sucked.”

The rest of the boys stared at him. 

Richie burst out laughing, and after a pause, everyone else laughed, too.

“Sorry, I just… wanted it out there.”

“Okay, well, hopefully you’ll like it more live. We’ve changed our style,” Bill said.

“Yeah, we took the sucking part out,” Richie said. He turned to Stan and continued, “Is that why you didn’t want him to come?”

Richie’s tone and smirk indicted that he was asking a different question underneath the obvious one, whose meaning was definitely known to him and Stan, but no one else in the group.

Stan threw his hands in the air in defeat. “Fine, fine. You’ve backed me into a corner.”

“What’s happening?” Eddie asked.

“Wait -” Richie started.

“Eddie, this bastard here,” Stan said, jerking a thumb at Richie in a way of indication, as though it was up in the air who the bastard was (it wasn’t), “has been asking me for your number ever since he figured out you were my roommate.”

Richie went red in the face. Eddie went stark white.

“What?” Eddie said, looking at Stan still - he couldn’t look at Richie. 

Richie, who he had a crush on, despite his judgement telling him not to, before he even knew his name. Richie, with his overgrown black hair and his easy smile and his devil-may-care attitude. 

Richie, who he had never spoken to until less than twenty minutes earlier.

“Oh, come on, dude,” Richie said. “I- I mean- don’t call me a bastard in front of him!”

Stan laughed. “You guys have twenty minutes before we play. And I gotta say, I feel a lot better with all these secrets out in the open.” 

Stan looked out to the rest of the party. “Hey, Patty!” he called into the crowd with a wave, making his way into the fray.

Bill, too, had skedaddled somewhere within the conversation.

Which left Richie and Eddie alone.

“Dude, if you don’t like guys, that’s fine.” 

It was the first thing Richie said, somehow. Eddie was amazed at the flippancy of it all. The thing that ate him up inside all through his childhood, Richie was somehow able to shrug off easily in this conversation - though, maybe not easily, as the red flush was still fresh in his cheeks. 

They had sat down on the floor that comprised the stage, hip to hip, both facing out to the party.

“No, I… I’m not sure…” Eddie started, not meeting Richie’s eyes. 

“Oh,” Richie said. He paused for a moment, and Eddie feared he had said the worst thing ever, but then another one of those smiles spread across his face. It made Eddie’s heart flutter and told him everything would be fine.

And then Richie slung his arm across Eddie’s shoulders.

“You’re all good, man. I’m just glad you finally like, know, you know?”

“Know what?”

Richie turned his face to Eddie. “Like Stan said. I’ve been asking Stan to hook us up for a month. He said no, because you’re quiet, and he likes quiet, and if I was around it would ruin everything. And that’s stupid, obviously, but I didn’t want to fuck up the band in case he actually meant it, so I just… looked from afar. I think you’re really cute, and I know that might be weird, because we’ve never talked, but -”

“I think you’re cute, too.” Eddie couldn’t believe himself. He barely allowed himself to think it, let alone say it, but here he was. It was out loud now, floating between them. 

Some gears inside him must have started randomly cranking, because he kept speaking without even realizing it. “I, uh, I’ve seen you around a lot. In hallways, or out in the quad, or the cafeteria. I… I look for you.”

Richie leaned over, and fear filled Eddie’s chest. He’s gonna kiss me. He’s gonna kiss me. Oh fuck, he’s gonna kiss me.

But he didn’t. Eddie was glad, honestly. He didn’t think he was ready for that, not here, not in his first conversation with the boy, which he couldn’t even believe was happening.

Richie whispered in his ear, “Can we go into the hallway?”

Eddie nodded, unable to speak after the sensation of Richie’s breath hot on his neck.

Richie took his hand again, and this time Eddie felt more at peace with the action, though still uncomfortable at the thought of being seen.

The hallway was still loud, but they found their way down to another room, door open for the party but devoid of any guests.

Richie pointed to the poster on the wall. “Do you think these people even know who Che Guevara was?”

Eddie didn’t know who he was, so he shook his head no. 

“I guess that’s what college is for, then,” Richie said, flopping himself down on the stranger’s bed.

“What did you want to talk about?” Eddie asked.

“I just needed to get out of there. Too loud.” 

Eddie was surprised anything was too loud for Richie. Between the Shark Puppy tape and Richie’s naturally loud energy, Eddie had assumed it was his standard setting.

Eddie was quiet. His mother had made him that way, and he didn’t really have any friends as a kid to be loud with. It’s no good to be loud by yourself. 

But Richie was loud by himself - the way he dressed alone shouted ‘LOOK AT ME!’ And Eddie thought this worked for him wonderfully. You can’t get embarrassed or ashamed of yourself if you proclaim those qualities. Richie seemed fine with his sexuality, with his uniqueness, all of it. 

Eddie wanted to be loud.

“How are you so cool?” Eddie said. When he was around Richie, none of his words were intentional. They all just slipped out of his mouth, their meanings half-formed or too blunt.

“Weed,” Richie responded. He chuckled, and then responded for real. “What do you mean?” 

“With your… you know.”

“I don’t.”

They were staring now, eyes locked. “No one knows I like boys.”

“I have a funny feeling Stan might.”

Eddie somehow hadn’t realized that, but he also realized that he didn’t mind. 

“But people know you do.”

Richie shook his head. “I don’t care what people know or don’t know about me. It’s none of their business. If they don’t like it, I’ll fight them.”

Eddie wanted to fight, too.

“You make it sound easy.”

“I’m a musician, Eddie. Emotions are everything. I know you fucking hated the tape, but the words… I put it all out there. That’s my diary. My songs are my songs, they’re about me, they’re about my life. People can interpret them any way they want, but I’m not gonna hide myself in my own art.”

“What are the… could you tell me the words? I couldn’t understand them on the tape,” Eddie said, almost reverently.

“I was worried,” Richie said, ignoring Eddie’s comment completely, “that you were dating her.”

Eddie furrowed his brows before realizing. “Oh, Bev?”

“Yeah. You’re always together, and… well, I wrote a song about you.”

“You…”

“It’s better than anything on that tape, I promise.”

Eddie was stunned. 

“Let’s… I’ll be right back, okay?”

Eddie simply nodded.

Richie left the room, and for two minutes, Eddie was alone with his thoughts.

What the fuck? was his main thought, popping up time and time again. He wrote me a song? was another. He thought I was dating Bev? He told Stan he liked me? were tied for third place.

Richie came back with a guitar. “Ten more minutes,” he said.

Sitting back on the bed next to Eddie, he tentatively strummed a few chords, checking his tuning. 

“Okay, okay,” he said.

And then, surpassing Eddie’s wildest hopes with that cute boy he saw in the halls, Richie Tozier sang him a song.

Do I tell you I like you or not? 'Cause I can't really guess what you want If you let me down, let me down slow If you let me down, let me down slow Do you have feelings for me? I just wanna speak honestly If you let me down, let me down slow If you let me down, let me down slow

I'm praying but don't see the signs I've been praying for you to be mine If you let me down, let me down slow If you let me down, let me down slow I don't believe in forever But I still wanna give it try If you let me down, let me down slow If you let me down, let me down slow

Eddie felt like he was outside of his own body. Richie’s voice was soft, sweet, a far cry from the grungy sound Eddie had heard from the tape deck. He wondered if that was an affectation, just trying to look cool. He wondered how much of Richie really was effortless.

Richie didn’t look at him the whole time, plucking at the guitar strings, moving his hand up and down the neck. Eddie didn’t know anything about guitar, but he was amazed at Richie’s abilities, the quickness of his fingers.

I don't wanna give you up I don't wanna let you love somebody else but me So what's it gonna be? So what's it gonna be? I don't wanna give you up I don't wanna make it out like it's no big deal So what's it gonna be? So what's it gonna be?

He kept playing for a few seconds after the lyrics ended, and then placed the guitar next to them on the bed.

Richie still didn’t look at him.

“So did you hate it, or…?”

“That was amazing,” Eddie said, putting his hand on Richie’s knee. “Really.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s funny, if I had played that for any of the guys, I’d… I dunno. I’d want to make it rockier or something. And I love the music we make, even if you think it’s shit. But that was is… just for me.”

Richie put his hand on his knee. Luckily, his knee happened to be below Eddie’s hand. He squeezed his fingers around Eddie’s.

“I’m glad we got to talk.”

“You’re different than I thought you were,” Eddie said. “Softer.”

“Oh, great. That’s what every guy wants to hear.”

“You seem so bulletproof all the time, and I’ve heard people mention how funny you are, but…” Eddie couldn’t help himself from leaning in. “You’re a lot deeper of a pool than I would have thought.”

“That’s a weird thing to say before a kiss,” Richie said, before completing his self-fulfilling prophecy.

Eddie Kaspbrak was kissing Richie Tozier. An hour ago, he had said zero cumulative words to the boy, and now they were kissing on a stranger’s bed.

They didn’t get to enjoy it for more than a few seconds before a shout interrupted them.

“Two minutes!”

Eddie pulled away from Richie and looked to the door.

“Bev?”

“Hi, Eddie! Hi, Richie, nice to meet you! I’m also dating your drummer!”

“What?” Eddie asked.

“Go Ben!” Richie fist-pumped. 

Hands still clutched, they slid off the bed. Eddie wanted more kissing, if he was being honest, but the show must go on, or else Stan would have their throats. 

Bev ran back to the main party room, and Richie started to follow, but Eddie tugged him back.

“I like you,” he said. The words were just the tip of the iceberg of his heart, but he felt like Richie understood the fullness of the statement.

Richie showed he did by responding with quick kiss. “I like you, too, Eddie.”

“You should play that song - if you want!” Eddie clarified. “You don’t have to. I’m sure this crowd want your… rocking stuff? But I bet someone out there wants a slow dance.”

Richie smiled. “Maybe I will.”

Hand in hand (and Richie’s other hand with his guitar), they ran back to the main room, to the stage area. 

The rest of Shark Puppy was in place - Bill had a guitar as well, and he was at the front in front of the microphone. There was another microphone where Richie was to stand. Stan had his bass, the strap holding it high on his chest. Behind the drums was Ben, who Eddie instantly recognized from his Alg course. He hadn’t connected that Ben with Band Ben when Bev and Richie mentioned him, but Eddie was glad it was him. Ben was the nicest dude, and Bev deserved nothing but niceness.

Richie grabbed his guitar, so covered in stickers that the true color was unknowable, and Ben immediately started tapping to count down.

And then the cacophony started. 

Eddie didn’t mind it, though. Richie had said they’d changed their sound, and while they weren’t anything like the song Richie had just played for him, the words were easier to understand, the instruments seemed to communicate with each other more. The crowd got into it, dancing and having fun, and some kids even knew the lyrics. 

At the end, as the party wound down, and they’d played their last song, Bill gave his usual send-off before they packed up. But Richie stayed put.

“Shark Puppy is done, and you can buy cassettes and stickers from Mike over there near the drinks, but I’m gonna do something a little different.”

His bandmates looked to him in confusion, and he nodded, somehow communicating to them that they were good to go. he put his electric guitar down and picked up his acoustic again.

“This one’s just me,” Richie said. “And it’s dedicated to a special someone.”

He played his song again, and Eddie liked it even more this time. There was added confidence behind the words - the lyrics told a story of uncertainty, anxiety, but Richie had his confirmation now. 

The claps at the end were scattered, but that didn’t bother Richie. It was a crowd of drunk kids who liked his band better, and that was fine. Eddie was the only person in the audience who mattered.

His smile at the end was a different type, Eddie thought as Richie took a quick bow. It was wider, prouder, and the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Richie walked right into the crowd and kissed Eddie, and Eddie didn’t feel worried at all.

(the song is “what’s it gonna be” by shura (with slightly changed lyrics) because i am completely unable to write lyrics)

[japvnesedenim-blog]

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These 10 home solutions for sleeplessness can help you get again on target with a fantastic night's snooze. See the way to rest superior with these home remedies. These home solution pictures deal with several of the commonest ailments and several simple new solutions you'll be able to consider at home. Learn more about home remedies. It is necessary to note that applying apple cider vinegar to your skin might cause burns and irritation, so it need to constantly be Utilized in smaller amounts and diluted with water. It also resulted in much less adverse outcomes like dryness, irritation and burning, as compared to benzoyl peroxide. Tea tree oil is very potent, so constantly dilute it just before making use of it to the skin. One's body can toss you for any loop at any time. You wake up with a sore throat the day you might be set to help make a major presentation, a seafood-salad sandwich leaves you with grumbling indigestion, otherwise you overdo it with the gym and arrive home that has a stiff neck. Dandruff relief may very well be no farther away than your refrigerator, if you have lemons on hand (which you'll want to, given that they have a lot of handy works by using!) Just therapeutic massage two tablespoons lemon juice into your scalp and rinse with water. Your just lately seen products and highlighted recommendations › Check out or edit your searching background Your skin has little holes referred to as pores which can become blocked by oil, microbes, useless skin cells, and dirt. When this happens, you could develop a pimple… Then steep oneself within a sizzling bathtub to take it easy your muscles as well as your intellect. In bed, rest your head with a lavender-crammed pillow—the fragrance induces sleepiness. (Reward: Cherries can help stop gout assaults.) Thankfully, a lot of natural treatments may also be effective. The home solutions mentioned in this post might not do the job for everybody, but they just could be worth a try out. Adhere to your common shampoo routine each morning. For a a lot quicker overcome, look for a shampoo that contains olive oil. But It's also advisable to maintain some olive oil available so You can utilize it for these 7 other points. Our units have detected unconventional targeted traffic out of your computer network. This web site checks to view if it's definitely you sending the requests, and never a robotic. Your kitchen area could maintain The crucial element to an itch-no cost, flake-absolutely free scalp. Some components you utilize everyday double as helpful dandruff cures—like baking soda. Soaked your hair and then rub A few baking soda vigorously into your scalp. Exfoliation is the entire process of removing the highest layer of lifeless pores and skin cells. It could be reached mechanically by using a brush or scrub to physically get rid of the cells. Alternatively, it may be taken out chemically by making use of an acid that dissolves them.

Not known Facts About natural cures

Omega-three fatty acids are very healthy fats that offer a large number of wellbeing Gains. You must get these fats from your diet regime, but research exhibits that most people who eat a regular Western diet regime Do not get plenty of of these (fifty three). The salicylic acid in aspirin is often a go-to for acne treatments, along with the aspirin can dry up pimples and lower inflammation. To take full advantage of these home cures for acne, sort a paste by mashing aspirin in just a little h2o, or dissolve four products in two tablespoons of water. It's also vital that you note that applying zinc on the pores and skin hasn't been demonstrated being effective. This can be for the reason that zinc isn't properly absorbed from the pores and skin. Crunchybetty.com says coconut oil is really a “tried and accurate” dandruff treatment, and it smells good much too. In advance of showering, massage three-5 tablespoons of coconut oil into your scalp and Allow sit for about an hour. Each individual pore is connected to a sebaceous gland, which produces an oily material known as sebum. Extra sebum can plug up pores, triggering the growth of the microbes called Propionibacterium acnes This home cure for dandruff works by using fenugreek seeds. Follow the instructions underneath to work with fenugreek pack to cure dandruff: Obtaining good sleep and relaxation can also be important for weight-loss. In fact, not receiving sufficient good quality snooze has an effect on your starvation and fullness hormones, negatively adjustments the way in which Your system stop working supplies, and variations how your genetics effect your body mass index (BMI). Who realized lemons experienced a lot of works by using? Understand 5 treatments for everyday ailments employing juice from this fantastic fruit. Secure home treatments for blackheads and whiteheads are offered. In the meantime, Listed below are my favourite natural home cures for having rid of pimples. Absolutely everyone's pores and skin differs, so keep in mind that ... In several instances, changes for your lifestyle and diet program will help simplicity ED symptoms. Way of life modifications which could aid enhance your sexual perform include performing exercises and shedding fat. In addition they incorporate stopping cigarette smoking and curbing your Liquor consumption. Study the vitamins and minerals which will help your wellness as anyone with arthritis. Examine A lot more >> Douse a cotton make-up pad with isopropyl Alcoholic beverages, maintain it up to the nose, and take a handful of deep breaths (no more than three in a ten-moment period). The catechins in green tea are Great for burning Fats, simply because they absolutely free Body fat from Body fat cells. Additionally they struggle absolutely free radicals and halt illnesses. Exfoliation is considered to improve acne by eliminating the skin cells that clog up pores. It is usually believed to make acne treatments for that skin more effective by allowing for them to penetrate further, once the topmost layer of skin is removed.

home treatments - An Overview

Hen soup might not be a heal-all, but it really’s a fantastic choice any time you’re Unwell. Research implies that savoring a bowl of hen soup with vegetables, prepared from scratch or warmed from the can, can slow the motion of neutrophils in Your whole body. The overall health great things about ginger root have been touted for hundreds of years, but now We now have scientific proof of its curative Homes. Some slices of Uncooked ginger root in boiling h2o may possibly assistance soothe a cough or sore throat. Simply simmer three quarter-sized slices of ginger root in two cups of water and cover for thirty minutes, and sip. Chamomile tea also has compounds that ease worry and relieve a throbbing noggin. Have a look at more natural remedies to treat headache suffering. In the morning, a splash of lukewarm water is all you would like. If you have Tremendous oily skin, it is possible to cleanse your skin once again in the morning. Never clean your experience with warm or chilly h2o (both can result in broken capillaries). The lack of omega-3s in the American diet plan has resulted in a very dramatic rise in inflammation, melancholy, and cardiovascular disease—in addition to other temper Conditions, claims Dr. Teitelbaum. “I had been questioned to write down a twenty,000-word textbook chapter on nourishment and mental well being, and The main nutrient was fish oil. All probable actions are already taken to be certain precision, dependability, timeliness and authenticity of the knowledge; nevertheless Onlymyhealth.com won't take any legal responsibility for the same. Using any facts provided by the web site is only on the viewers’ discretion. . "As we become older, it breaks down, generating lines and enormous pores." Skincare authorities disagree on all kinds of things, but Many of them take into account retinoids being a wonder skin saver. Colds and flu are inclined to exhibit up with dreary regularity. Understand which of them could essentially support, and which happen to be very little but charming folktale. Authorities suggest Placing a person teaspoon of baking soda in a glass of water and consuming it (just don’t try this on a complete stomach). Look at these other fantastic home works by using for baking soda. The condition? It normally can take 7 significant fish oil pills to see the clinical benefits revealed from the scientific tests. Investigation has proven that a completely new kind, referred to as Vectomega, allows people to obtain the exact reward with only one pill every single day.” You can also get an abundance of omega-3s by taking in extra fatty fish like salmon, mackerel, and trout. You can find much more omega-3 prosperous fish alternatives in this article. In any other case, on the subsequent webpage, you are able to enter the healing back garden by Discovering the herbs used in herbal remedies from your letter A through the letter C. Gargling with salt h2o reduces and loosens mucus, which is made up of bacteria and allergens. To try this treatment at home, dissolve one teaspoon of salt in an entire glass of water. Swish it about your mouth and throat. Then spit it out. Bond, is using a paste of milk and honey about the influenced areas. You can also combine curd with it. Considering the fact that milk and curd consist of lactic acid, they peel off the afflicted skin following a time period, leaving skin wonderful. Vegetable juices from tomatoes, cucumber, and potato can also be utilized on skin. “These lighten pigmentation and fit all skin forms. This also leaves skin calming and refreshing all day.”

People with kidney problems should seek advice from a wellbeing care practitioner ahead of using magnesium. (Listed below are 3 a lot more natural remedies in your headache.)

Detailed Notes on natural remedies

Some are actually discarded for more robust, supposedly a lot more specified, synthetic medications while some are still applied, in several portions of the whole world, inside their natural sort.Herbal Remedy Bible is really an application ... On top of that, smoking cigarettes improves your danger of squamous mobile skin most cancers. When you smoke, The simplest way to shield your skin would be to Give up. Inquire your medical doctor for tips or treatment options that may help you give up smoking. Use sunscreen. Use a broad-spectrum sunscreen with an SPF of at least fifteen. Apply sunscreen generously, and reapply each individual two hrs — or maybe more normally if you're swimming or perspiring. In building nations, access to vital medicines is severely limited by not enough means and poverty. Regular remedies, often carefully resembling or forming The idea for choice remedies, may possibly comprise primary healthcare or be integrated in the healthcare method. It depends around the Phony perception that preserving the complexity of substances from the supplied plant with fewer processing is safer and likely more effective, for which there isn't a proof both affliction applies.[4] Only simmer 3 quarter-sized slices of ginger root in two cups of h2o and canopy for half an hour, and sip. Chamomile tea also has compounds that relieve tension and ease a throbbing noggin. Check out more natural remedies to take care of headache suffering. more info gathered specifics of herbs and designed very well-outlined pharmacopoeias to deal with many different ailments. In excess of a quarter of all medicine made use of currently incorporate Energetic ingredients derived from those same historical plants. Nonetheless on the lookout for the appropriate Resolution? A further natural remedy for acne is adding a spoonful of pumpkin seeds in your smoothie, salad, or soup. “Acne can manifest when the body is small in zinc and pumpkin seeds certainly are a terrific supply of this mineral and various healthy nutrients,” clarifies. Dr. Lower Pet. Home remedies have grown to be an significantly well known choice to conventional drugs. Uncover home remedies for frequent professional medical challenges You need to use to deal with everything from slight ailments to illnesses like bronchial asthma and diabetic issues. For the reason that excess Liquor depletes the human body of necessary B vitamins (they assist stop working Alcoholic beverages in the human body), prior to about to mattress take a B-50 sophisticated health supplement, which is able to make certain that the metabolism of Liquor continues apace. Also, rehydrate by ingesting plenty of drinking water. (Consider these 5 much more means to prevent a hangover.) Herbal drugs, generally known as herbalism or botanical drugs, can be a medical process according to the use of vegetation or plant extracts That could be eaten or applied to the skin. Since ancient moments, herbal medication is utilized by many different cultures through the entire world to take care of illness and to help bodily functions. In March 2009 a team writer to the Washington Submit described that the approaching countrywide dialogue about broadening access to overall health care, increasing professional medical apply and preserving income was offering a group of scientists an opening to suggest shutting down the National Center for Complementary and Substitute Medication. Advocates of CAM recommend that regulation on the sector will adversely have an impact on individuals searching for alternative strategies to deal with their symptoms, whether or not lots of the advantages may characterize the placebo influence. Some commentators have mentioned that special thought must be provided to the issue of conflicts of desire in alternative drugs. Edzard Ernst has said that the majority of researchers into different medicine are vulnerable to "unidirectional bias" as a result of a usually uncritical perception of their decided on topic.[221] Ernst cites as proof the phenomenon whereby 100% of the sample of acupuncture trials originating in China experienced good conclusions.[221] David Gorski contrasts proof-centered drugs, through which researchers try to disprove hyphotheses, with what he claims could be the Regular apply in pseudoscience-centered investigation, of striving to substantiate pre-existing notions.

New Step by Step Map For beauty tips

In March 2009 a workers author with the Washington Article reported that the upcoming national discussion about broadening use of wellbeing care, bettering healthcare practice and saving revenue was offering a bunch of scientists a gap to suggest shutting down the National Center for Complementary and Different Medicine. The exact composition of the herbal products is affected by the method of extraction. A tea will probably be rich in polar components simply because h2o can be a polar solvent. Oil Then again is usually a non-polar solvent and it will soak up non-polar compounds. Liquor lies someplace between.[31] The lobby has correctly pushed for alternate therapies being issue to considerably less regulation than regular drugs. Alternative therapies may perhaps even be authorized to advertise use when There may be demonstrably no influence, only a tradition of use. Regulation and licensing of alternative drugs and wellness care suppliers varies between and in countries. Inspite of rules which makes it unlawful to market or boost substitute therapies for use in most cancers remedy, quite a few practitioners promote them. Alternate drugs is criticized for Profiting from the weakest members of Modern society. For the most recent food stuff information, overall health tips and recipes, like us on Fb or observe us on Twitter and YouTube. Adore a new garden but lacking a inexperienced thumb? Luckily for us there are plenty of industry experts satisfied to share their gardening know-how. Who will not want a refreshing, glowing facial area? One that demonstrates the beauty inside, the zest you've for life and many of the goodness that you are made from. But acquiring a experience ... Thank heavens for the availability of mustard oil that may be mentioned to have sure properties that assistance lower hair complications, thus, trying to keep your locks healthy. When you've got cystic acne, white toothpaste (not gel) is a superb cure. Apply some before you decide to head over to bed each night, and you may see a large variance whenever you awaken. Individuals who commit large amounts of time and money on ineffective treatment options may be left with important tiny of either, and may forfeit the chance to get hold of remedies that may be extra handy. To put steptoremedies.com , even innocuous treatment plans can indirectly deliver damaging outcomes.[two hundred] Between 2001 and 2003, 4 kids died in Australia because their parents chose ineffective naturopathic, homeopathic, or other choice medicines and meal plans as an alternative to regular therapies.[201] Unconventional most cancers "cures"[edit] The marriage time is at last listed here! To be able to reach glowing skin and healthy lustrous hair for that D-day, the would-be brides who are having organized for that wedding vows could have ... Labels on retail outlet-bought herbs almost never reveal how crops are lifted, let alone how long the ingredients are exposed to gentle and significant temperatures though saved in their plastic containers. Mature your personal to make sure the very best quality and potency within your herbal remedies. All You must do is unfold some honey about your deal with and wait around quarter-hour. Wash the honey off employing lukewarm h2o, then Carefully pat your facial area dry using a soft, thoroughly clean towel.[23] It could be in case you utilize the ice straight to your skin. It is best for those who wrap the ice inside a washcloth, then utilize it in your confront for 1 minute. To finish your registration please enter the verification code you received on your cellular. When you haven't acquired the verification code, remember to SMS REWARDME to 9223347100

Details, Fiction and beauty tips

We have also picked some popular medical troubles and revealed you how to deal with these disorders via herbal medication. At last, in case you needed to browse condition particular in your gender, look into Herbal Remedies for Females or Herbal Remedies for guys. Peel masks are typically gel-like in regularity, and incorporate acids or exfoliating brokers that can help exfoliate the skin, along with other substances to hydrate, discourage wrinkles, or deal with uneven skin tone.  To create a paste, use someday aged curd and blend with a tomato pulp. Utilize this facial area pack everyday each morning to reveal a brighter and glowing contemporary complexion for gorgeous confront. The standard discounts with all areas of the availability chain, in the early shipping of Uncooked elements and parts till the shipment of the final products to the consumer. Extra Bun as many as phony a blowout "When I don't have some time or dollars to visit a salon, I shampoo in the evening, then run a fall of smoothing product as a result of my hair. Established sensible limitations, cut back your to-do listing and make time to do the things you delight in. It may help in curing acne breakouts, acne scars and also other skin issues. "Following I towel-dry my hair, I do the job a dime-size fall of depart-in conditioner by and afterwards just depart it alone. Most curlies make the error of above-touching their hair when It is drying, that may disturb the curl sample and produce on frizz."—Alexandra Spunt Large blood cholesterol is An important cause of coronary heart assaults. Learn what Individuals cholesterol numbers necessarily mean, and examine the home remedies which will help Obtain your cholesterol underneath Management. Uncomplicated things which will not choose up too much time and if performed consciously and consistently is likely to make a variance to just how you feel and appear? Here is what our beauty pro Suparna ... Consuming chamomile tea can supply precisely the same advantage. It can also encourage the immune procedure to aid Your entire body fight from the an infection that induced your sore throat in the first place. In the event the frequent cold or other minor ailments strike you down your 1st line of protection might be in your very own home. Check out these home remedies and you might not have to obtain a prescription. An addition to location spray is environment powder, which may be either pigmented or translucent. Both equally of these products and solutions assert to help keep makeup from absorbing in the skin or melting off. Exfoliants are items that enable slough off dry, lifeless skin cells to Enhance the skin's visual appearance. This is certainly obtained both by making use of mild acids or other chemical compounds to loosen outdated skin cells, or abrasive substances to bodily scrub them off. There are a variety of home remedies to maintain reproductive wellness. Learn how natural cures like vitex can encourage reproductive wellbeing.

Top hair care Secrets

Yes, it really is. Hair oils have vitamin E, which can be very good for hair in addition to skin, and change the hair's normal oils which might be lost via washing. Regular oiling and massaging also enhances blood circulation, which strengthens roots and reduces hair reduction.

In order to avoid all Individuals limited-term alternatives to raise the volume of your hair, here are nine effortless hairstyles that will help you insert volume in your hair. Undergoing a hair spa cure is the new trend in Just about all the Highly developed splendor salons. Know why you'll want to opt hair spa treatment and what it does to your hair.  Perms and relaxation using relaxer or thermal reconditioning require chemical alteration of The interior construction with the hair in an effort to affect its curliness or straightness. Surely not! This will most likely trigger your hair to be dry and brittle. Use blow dryers and other hair styling tools sparingly. Decide on A different response! Among the major good reasons that muscles start to weaken and shed versatility is inactivity. Without having carrying out strength-making and suppleness exercises, the lack of adaptability might cause long term destruction as part of your posture and lack of healthy muscle mass functionality. Even so, keep away from drinking water through foods mainly because it slows down the digestion system. It truly is advisable to own h2o 30 minutes before or right after your food. The hair cells are classified as the quickest increasing cells in the human body but they are also the 1st types to get affected you don't try to eat ideal or experience with deficiencies because they are certainly not required for survival. This is actually the time and energy to try to eat one thing you might have or else retained out within your healthy consuming prepare. And do not experience responsible about this! By registering I confirm that i'm not less than eighteen years of age, I comply with the Privacy Coverage, and consent to obtaining advertising calls, textual content messages, and e-mails within the Art of Dwelling Regretably, You can not do away with split finishes without the need of reducing your hair. If you don't trim off your break up ends, the break up will go on up the hair shaft, leading to far more breakage. It really is superior to simply get your hair trimmed. Many thanks! Yes No Not Practical 0 Useful 8 Rest plays a vital role in keeping basic properly-getting plus a healthy Way of living. Getting sufficient deep snooze in the evening will help defend your psychological and Actual physical health and fitness, your In general Standard of living, and your basic safety. Progressively more study is showing just how vital it is actually for folks to generally be a single with nature. And in many cases just living around it helps. For illustration, people that Stay close (within a few 50 percent-mile) to a great amount of inexperienced House are much healthier than those that Dwell farther clear of it, In line with a 2009 analyze posted within the Journal of Epidemiology & Community Health and fitness. Dry hair most likely requires shampoos with glycerin and collagen that can help restore some moisture in to the hair.

The best Side of healthy habbits

Although some might not utilize to all persons, these behaviors are a fantastic place to begin for anyone who might be seeking to greater themselves. "For The best lunch, 1 / 4 on the plate can be taken up by lean protein, A different quarter will be filled with reduced-GI or wholegrain carbs, as well as the remaining 50 % would be filled with salad or veggies." It would not appear being a surprise to you personally that cigarette smoking, drinking to excess and lounging close to like a sloth aren't healthy habits. Nonetheless, these extensively identified unhealthy behavior are not the sole ones it is best to crack within the identify within your wellness. Water is essential for lifestyle - It is really needed for digestion, absorption and transportation of nutrients, for elimination of squander and to manage human body temperature. For yummy recipe solutions, may perhaps we recommend signing up for your BuzzFeed Food e-newsletter? Here's fifteen belongings you may possibly discover if you are doing. Healthy Behavior #four: Increase Non-Exercising Bodily Action Your day by day exercise is critical. But in case you Visit the gymnasium for an hour and devote the remainder of the working day sitting down inside a chair or laying over the couch, you are likely performing a lot more damage than fantastic whenever you work out. Examine these articles on healthy breakfasts, healthy lunches, healthy dinners and healthy snacks for a few terrific Concepts. While you issue your hair soon after every single clean, absolutely nothing fairly operates pretty much as good as deep conditioning. Every single Every so often wash your hair with shampoo, squeeze out the extra drinking water and towel dry it. Then get generous amounts of conditioner and utilize it proper to the root of your hair. It also can influence the amount of calories you consume from soda or coffee beverages. Use easy suggestions to sleep far better so that you get a complete evening's rest and get up energized for a full day of healthy exercise and good taking in. When you are hesitant at the beginning, you might turn out surprised at how much you love your new exercise or The brand new folks you satisfy. And the more antibiotics you're taking, the more you operate the chance of build up a resistance towards the antibiotics, indicating they will be fewer powerful down the road if you may well really want them. So as to do most just about anything, You will need to have some sort of cooperation of Others. Humans have progressed to cooperate as a way to endure. Your muscles By natural means shed toughness and reduce in dimensions with age. They're going to probably also come to be less supple and stiffer. These modifications can affect your array of movement within your joints and result in you to get rid of tissue elasticity, that will lead to restricted muscles. Healthy Routine #1: Enjoy Everything you Consume Start off to observe the calories while in the drinks that you eat. You will discover sure beverages, in particular, that may Use a major effect on your overall caloric intake and on the sort of food stuff selections that you make on a daily basis. One example is, sports activities beverages, juices, sweetened teas, and flavored espresso drinks in many cases are loaded with Body fat and energy.

healthy diet No Further a Mystery

The little healthy meals at shorter intervals assist in boosting up metabolism thus burning much more calories. The basic notion of the 1200 Calorie food prepare is similar. Incapacity - managing underweight There are a number of ways that somebody with a incapacity can effectively stay away from unwelcome fat loss... More foods are necessary to improve the body weight gain in pregnancy (normally 10-12 kgs) and beginning excess weight of infants (about two.5kgs-3kgs). The nutritional need of a Expecting lady keeps shifting dependent on the various trimesters of pregnancy. In some instances, micronutrients (like folic acid/ iron tablets) are specifically essential in more amounts to lower the potential risk of malformations in newborn and maximize start weight of newborn and to forestall anaemia in anticipating moms. Hoping out many types of healthy menus and recipes provides selection towards the diet and cuts out boredom. Dairy and dairy alternatives Dairy goods (and dairy solutions) are packed with calcium, protein and many other necessary nutrients. Calcium is significant for healthy enamel and bones. It is usually essential in your muscles... These breakfasts are healthy and delectable. Whether or not you like a sizzling or cold breakfast, We've got plenty of ideas for you. A perfectly formulated balanced diet is needed for youngsters and adolescents to achieve ideal progress and Improve their immunity. Well balanced Diet, enjoying outdoors, physical things to do of kid are essential for optimum body composition and to reduce the chance of diet connected Long-term situations afterwards in life and to circumvent any sort of vitamin deficiency.  Adolescence has numerous other variables hooked up to it: swift boost in top and weight, hormonal improvements and temper swings. Emergencies - coping devoid of fuel or electric power In a fuel or electric power blackout maybe you have to Consider laterally to think of strategies to continue bathing, feeding on and preserving heat... Infants cannot take in massive portions of foods at an individual time so they should be fed tiny quantities at Regular intervals (3-four occasions daily). Also, the food stuff need to be of semi-stable consistency so that the infants can swallow it conveniently. Be aware of what you consume, which may make it easier to consume significantly less and revel in your foodstuff far more. Numerous cultures around the globe emphasize the enjoyment of foods, which regularly incorporates cooking and having with Other individuals, being an integral ingredient to great wellbeing. Even our possess Dietary Tips for People contact on the concept consuming healthfully consists of "making the most of foods and celebrating cultural and private traditions via meals. Differing kinds of dietary Excess fat have diverse effects on blood levels of cholesterol. Such as, polyunsaturated fats are inclined to reduce both of those sorts of cholesterol; monounsaturated fats usually lessen LDL and raise HDL; saturated fats are likely to either raise HDL, or elevate the two HDL and LDL;[forty two][forty three] and trans Unwanted fat have a tendency to lift LDL and decreased HDL. Improvement of bone mass is going on throughout this era so inclusion of dairy products and solutions (milk, cheese, yoghurt) and vegetables like spinach, broccoli and celery that happen to be full of calcium is essential. Many other foods that have not acquired celebrity position are deserving of a location on your own plate. Start out with these 9. Recommendations to keep our snacks on track Most of us are vulnerable to the odd snack or two. Check out these simple ways to keep the snacks on course...

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Enjoy An Exclusive Sneek Peek Of: Midnight at the Electric by Jodi Lynn Anderson!

  Kansas, 2065: Adri has been picked to live on Mars. But weeks before launch, she discovers the journal of a girl who lived in her house more than a hundred years ago and is drawn into the mystery surrounding her fate. Oklahoma, 1934: Amid the fear and uncertainty of the Dust Bowl, Catherine's family's situation is growing dire. She must find the courage to sacrifice everything to save the one person she loves most. England, 1919: In the recovery following World War I, Lenore tries to come to terms with her grief for her brother and plans to sail to America. But can she make it that far?  

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  Chapter 1

From above, Miami looked as if it were blinking itself awake; the rising sun reflected against the city’s windows. Adri—in fuzzy extra-large pajama pants, her messy black hair pulled back in a rubber band—had pulled over on the shoulder of the Miami bridge. Her Theta had blown a circuit board and she needed to fix it. Now, she took in the view one last time: it wasn’t much, but she’d never see it again.

The sky lay low and gray over South Beach. The empty beachfront hotels lay dark, water halfway up their lowest windows. All along the waterfront, buildings stood stark and abandoned. Neighborhood by neighborhood, the ocean had crept into the city, making it look like a kingdom from an old fairy tale, like Atlantis disintegrating into myth. The morning’s mail drones were already buzzing above the waterlogged buildings below, swaying in the heavy winds but staying on course to deliver packages to anyone who was left: the ruggedly independent, the people with nowhere else to go.

Adri had been one of them until today; her entire life had been spent watching the city get swallowed by water. She wouldn’t miss it, but she had to take a deep breath as she turned back to the car. She gathered the papers and wrinkled sweatshirts that had fallen out when she’d stepped out onto the pavement and shoved them into the back. She carefully plucked a caterpillar off her windshield, sliding her fingers against it gently and moving it to the bridge rail. Then she started the car and set it to self-navigate. Her restless mind drifted to Kansas and what lay ahead. She opened her placement letter on the dash monitor and reread it.

Dear Ms. Ortiz, We try to arrange home stays for our Colonists-in-Training as often as possible, to maintain a sense of normalcy at a deeply transitional time. We’re delighted to inform you that we’ve located a distant cousin of yours (a Lily Vega, maiden name Ortiz, age 107) within driving distance of the Center, who is willing to welcome you into her home during the next three months. Please make your way to this address and await instructions. 268 Jericho Road Canaan, KS 67124 Sincerely, Lamont Bell Director

Adri hadn’t even known she’d had cousins, or any family, left alive. Her parents had been only children; she’d never known of anyone even remotely related to them.

She turned on the news, and when people honked at her to tell her Theta was trailing sparks (it often did) she casually gave them the finger. She leaned back in her seat to watch the sky through the big sunroof. She felt lighter the farther she got from the city.

The coast fell away, and with it, the flooded towns and cities. The ride was only twelve hours with the new interstate, and with a speed limit of a hundred and fifty, it flew by. Normally she would have taken the spare time to study, but all of her devices had been remotely disabled the day she’d received her acceptance letter. Colonists were supposed to spend their last three months focusing on what they learned at the Center in Wichita. Other than that, they were supposed to do as close to nothing as possible.

Only a week had passed since the message had flashed on her wristTab, releasing a spray of holographic balloons that spiraled up around her and away as her admission note flashed on the screen. It was a cheesy touch, but her heart had dropped to her feet anyway. It was the first time in her life she could remember crying. Everything she’d sacrificed and worked for since the sixth grade—the late nights studying, the relentless schedule of exercise, course work, and training—was going to pay off. Within months, she’d be one of the lucky few living on Mars.

The air turned colder the farther she rode. It was long past dark when she crossed the border into Kansas, and another hour before she exited the highway. Nearing Canaan, each turn seemed to take her farther and farther into the middle of nowhere, county roads unfurling darkly under a sky black as ink. The Theta began to make a loud, thumping sound. Around eleven, she switched the car to driver-navigate and steered it gingerly along. It was practically dead when she pulled up to the end of the driveway.

Adri gazed around; the place looked almost abandoned. There was a little white farmhouse with peeling siding and a small barn lot . . . leaning fences surrounding a large pasture, a bunkhouse (or was it a stable?) listing to one side. An ancient SUV sat in the driveway—one of the last of the great gas guzzlers.

Adri cut the power and blinked at a sign by the flowerbeds drying up for the winter. There were indications of life though: a series of purple plastic dragonflies lined the path to the front door and a tin angel with a watering can stood poised over a patch of daisies and weeds to her right. A little placard poking up by the path said: Come in, my flowers would like to meet you.

“Oh God,” she muttered.

She took a deep breath.

She turned her attention upward. The sky was closer here than it had been back home, or at least it felt that way. That’s where I’ll be, she thought. That’s where I’m going. In a way, she was already gone. That was what she needed to focus on.

She checked herself in the mirror. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, which was how she always looked. She brushed herself off and got out of the car, a few soda cans and empty wrappers trailing out with her feet.

A sign had been taped to the door, written in shaky handwriting.

Adri, I stayed up as late as I could, but I’m old! Your room is upstairs to the right. Can’t wait to meet you. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. ☺☺☺

Adri moved through the house in the dark, bumping into corners and staring around into the shadowy rooms before she made her way up the stairs. One room stood open and inviting: faded blue and smelling of mothballs. The lamps were all on, and a bright patchwork quilt lay across the bed, turned down at the corner. She looked around. There was something about the room that was off, unsettling. But she couldn’t say what.

There was no dresser so she moved back and forth across the room, flinging her pants and balled-up sweaters along the closet shelves. Lily had either neglected or forgotten to clean in the back, and the corners were covered in cobwebs that stuck to her fingers. Otherwise the shelves were empty except for an old crinkled shoe box. She opened it, finding a pile of photos and old postcards instead. Adri was notoriously nosy.

She moved closer to the bedside lamp and flipped through the contents. There were several photos of a woman she assumed must be Lily, some with a man who looked to be her husband, and some of her as a little girl. But most of the mementos were older, artifacts from before even her cousin would have been born: ancient ticket stubs from shows in the 1950s, an autograph from someone named Wayne Newton. One postcard was from New York City and very old—it showed a wide boulevard with people in hats and dresses strolling arm and arm, gazing into shop windows. It was postmarked May 7, 1920, and the writing was so faded it was close to illegible.

Beth— Arrived New York last night and making my way to you tomorrow. Galapagos in tow. Did you get my letters? Will you be waiting for me? Will you love her as much as I do? Love, Lenore

Adri did the quick mental math to calculate how many years had passed since 1920: a hundred and forty-five. She read it one more time, then put the box back where she’d found it.

Finally, with nothing else to do, she turned out her light and lay down. In the silence of the strange room, a feeling still nagged at her and kept her from sleeping. Maybe it was nerves about living with a stranger . . . and a stranger who was also— weirdly—family. She wondered what Lily would be like—and it made her think of her old roommate at the group house back in Miami, and something she’d said once.

“I really admire you, Adri,” she’d said. “But I have to say you’re not very likable.”

Adri hadn’t shown that it hurt her, but it had stayed in her mind. She didn’t know why she couldn’t keep from being too blunt, too standoffish and distant, a little mean. She’d stopped trying to change it years ago; she could never figure out how.

Growing up she’d watched other kids buddying up— everyone with their weird quirks and flaws getting along anyway somehow, forming some mysterious club she couldn’t penetrate. She’d think to herself, How do they do that? It was like executing an intricate dive.

Adri wasn’t a diver. If anything, she was a pickax, chipping away at each day. The next three months living with another stranger, even one who was related to her . . . she would chip away at too.

• • •

In sixth-grade astronomy, Adri had read about neutrinos for the first time. They were particles that traveled across space—from one end of the universe to the other, unstoppable and anchorless. They could pass through matter, right through planets and people and everything else. When kids talked after that, about what they wanted to be when they got older, the image of that textbook page always flashed through her mind.

Now she pictured the day she’d be the one launching off from Earth, unstoppable. She hoped the time between then and now would go fast. As she fell asleep, behind her eyelids she watched herself pinging across space.

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