#Mike coming in with that better late than never kind of advice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aestheticsarereal · 3 years ago

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Can u do a Eddie x Female best friend reader of him having a crush on u headcanons and you hear Dustin aka Ur little BROTHER and you hear Eddie comes to Dustin for advice about a girl and he didn’t know it’s his big sister that his best friend likes ORRR. You could do the opposite of this headcanon like u could do where u can hear them talking about you u hear Eddie saying he likes and u and bragging about you all the time to the hellfire which you are apart of but he didn’t make it noticeable to you about the girl he really likes I’m sorry I need to stop thinking about Eddie headcanons 😬 sorry if this is too long

I absolutely love this idea! I just love the bond between Dustin and Eddie and the fact that both of them can go to each other about different types of situations! Especially when it would have to do with something as intricate as Dustin’s older sister. He knows it would be a delicate situation. Thank you for the request!

Summary: Eddie needs love advice from his right hand man, but it’s to get a girl that is off-limits.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!best friend reader (Henderson edition)

Warnings: Just tooth-rotting fluff, some swearing, a bit of insecure y/n, hint of angst, happy ending <3

High school scared you. Not for you but your little brother Dustin. Being as it was your senior year, you had a pretty decent experience. In no way was it awful besides some of the shitty teachers and the boring classes at 8 a.m.. It also wasn’t the best time of your life, you simply didn’t peak in high school like many of your peers did. This was partly due to having your best friend at your hip. Eddie and Y/N. Everyone knew you as two peas in a pod.

Since middle school gym class, the both of you made a promise to each other. That going into high school you wouldn’t forget about each other and you wouldn’t turn into an asshole. He was two years older than you and he promised he would look after you. In return, he asked you to not do anything stupid. It kind of did freak you out a bit when you had entered sophomore year and he was doing his first round of senior year. The idea that you would have to do it by yourself. He would never admit it, but a small part of him stuck around because he knew it wouldn’t be right to just leave you.

Cut to 1986. 7 years worth of a friendship and the two of you were better than ever. Skipping classes, getting high off your asses, going to the hideout every Tuesday to staying up late with him to plan for the next campaign when you should probably be studying for Ms.O'Donnell's English final. The cherry on top of the sundae was the newest addition of Dustin, your little brother, and his friends.

Will moving to California was hard on Dustin because the 4 of them were never separated for long periods of time and entering such a new place as high school was extremely terrifying. That’s why your heart swooned over Eddie when he personally took Dustin under his wing. The way you saw them at lunch or at Hellfire meetings, the two men in your life that you had unconditional love for.

Deep down you knew how you felt towards your best friend. Everyone around you could see it. Eddie might have even seen it, but it was never spoken of. You knew the minute feelings were to get involved, things would get messy and complicated and neither of you were one for confrontations. Physical or emotional.

It took you by surprise when Eddie asked to talk with Dustin alone before tonight’s meeting. Your puzzled eyes met Eddie’s at the head of the table, “Why just Dustin?” He seemed a bit frantic, “Oh it’s nothing, just have to talk with him about something. Really s’nothing Y/N.” Before you could interject to call out his bs, Mike started arguing with Dustin over whose girlfriend was better. “All I’m saying is that El saved the world like three times. She’s literally a superhero.” “Yet, you still have a C in Spanish,” Dustin retorted. The two of them kept bickering as Eddie just had his head hung low and bit his nails. A habit he only had when he was either nervous or unsure of something.

It was unlike Eddie or Dustin to hide something from you and it made you utterly anxious. It couldn’t have been good if Eddie wasn’t telling the truth. That’s why you skipped 8th early so you could follow Eddie. Creeping behind walls and lockers, you followed the two to the club’s usual meeting spot, the theater’s black box. Eddie could feel someone following him so he knew he had to be quick. Shoving Dustin into the room, he immediately slammed the door shut. You heard the lock click and mentally groaned, ‘of course he would,’ you thought to yourself.

You snuck over as fast as you could leaning your ear against the door. It was a bit muffled but you could still make out what they had been saying. Unbeknownst to you Eddie was pacing the room back and forth, twirling a piece of hair between his fingers to calm his nerves. “Eddie, what was so important you needed to drag me here,” you heard your little brother ask. It was physically impossible but you leaned in closer trying to clearly hear what has been distracting your best friend. “There is–well okay. There is this girl okay. And well I like her–I really like. Have liked her for a while. A-and I’m pretty sure she likes me too. At least everyone says so,” he rambled on.

“Okay and who is she, Eddie?” He simply shook his head and kept pacing. “I can’t tell you.” You heard one of Dustin’s infamous sighs. “You can’t tell me, that’s great. So much help.” “Zip it Henderson.” “Okay so why are you telling me all of this?” Your eyes were wide in anticipation as you wanted to know who this mystery girl was. Sure there were girls he would stare at or hookup with after gigs which you admit made you extremely jealous. But you had your fair share of dates you had been on, none that Eddie approved of. So why wouldn’t he tell you about this girl?

“I dunno. I needed to tell someone before I burst. It’s like whenever I see her, my stomach is fucking going wild and my heart beats like really fast. She’s pretty and smart and funny and gets me. She doesn’t look at me like I'm a–a freak Henderson. I don’t want to mess anything up. She’ll be too good to lose.” His confession made your heart drop. What you wouldn’t give to have that effect on him. To be the one to make him feel that way.

“Okay so you like her and you are pretty sure she likes you. And you are worried if you do talk to her about your feelings, she’ll back out?” All Eddie could do was nod in agreement. “Eddie, if she likes you and doesn’t judge you, what makes you think she will say no? Sure there is the possibility of saying no, but I think having the courage to even tell her how you feel is a huge thing. She will probably think you’re brave.” Even though you didn’t like what they had been talking about, you couldn’t help but feel proud of your younger brother’s intelligent and wise response.

“If you’re not right, I swear to God I’m going to give you the biggest wedgie you’ve felt in your life.” Checking his watch, Eddie saw it was almost time for class to end. “Shit okay we gotta go. Hey, if you tell anyone about what I said–even Y/N, you’re toast. Got it?” “Loud and clear.” Shit. Shit. Shit. You couldn’t get away from the door fast enough before Eddie saw you crouched down towards the door. “Y/N?” Fuck. “What are you doing here?” You couldn’t think of anything to say. Your mind was racing with thoughts and questions. “Who is the girl Eddie?”

“You were listening to our conversation,” Dustin asked. “That is none of your business and go back to class.” “Y/n that’s unfair!” Your eyes dictated him to do otherwise. You waited for your little brother to round the corner for you to fully face Eddie. “It was you that followed us?” You nodded, afraid your voice would give away your true feelings. “How much did you hear? Y/N?” An exasperated sigh left your lips. “I heard it all. I heard how you feel about her and how you don’t want to fuck it up. I just don’t get why you couldn’t tell me. What about her is so important that you can’t tell your best friend?” “Y/N–,” cutting him off before he could finish. “I come to you for anything and everything. We are supposed to be best friends. Is it someone I don’t like? Wait–” Tears flooded your eyes at the thought of someone you did not want around him. Chrissy Cunningham. “It’s Chrissy isn't it? I knew it! I asked you, begged you! Of all people, not her!”

You couldn’t help the volume increase in your voice but this hurt. Your throat felt on fire and your cheeks were burning to a crisp. “Jesus H. Christ Y/N!” His voice echoed in the hallway. “It’s not Chrissy! It’s you! I couldn’t fuckin’ tell you because it’s you I love. You clearly heard I couldn’t tell Dustin because you know he would have been fuckin’ weirded out,” he huffed out. That was not the answer you were expecting. Your eyes were searching his to see if he was joking or not. All you could see were tears of frustration building. He didn’t want to tell you like this.

“And you ask where Dustin gets his impatience. You know I wanted to take you to our spot and talk. But no, you had to get all nosey and jealous.” Your eyes went wide and your mouth opened to say something but you felt his lips crash into yours. Without even thinking your lips molded with his as his hands cupped your face. The kiss was so delicate yet so passionate. A few tears slipped from your eyes are relief and happiness washed over you. It truly felt like one of those cinematic kisses. Where the theater is silent as everyone watches in awe.

He slowly pulled away to get a better look at you. “Come on Y/N, it’s always been you. You’re my girl. No one could ever change that, especially Chrissy Cunningham.” You smiled at his words that were as sweet as honey. You pecked his lips as your hands draped around his neck.

“Seriously, you sent me back to class so you could make out?” You both laughed and made out in an exaggerated way as Dustin was dry heaving and walked out.

“Looks like I got the girl and the diploma.”

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie the freak munson #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie x reader #eddie my love #dustin #munson #eddie my beloved #stranger things au #stranger things s4

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argylemikewheeler · 3 years ago

Text

July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he wished some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift. Fucking off and being a better piece of shit son just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So don’t call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was sure his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um, puzzles to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we can’t . So, that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is more than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially his familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green dash barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded cool in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like everyone was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I have to show you all my inventions! Camp was the best four weeks of my life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa! Girlfriend ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just Steve that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s super smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I just saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the Chief now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not... looking at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car could speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was upset that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.” Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since no one else in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright-- Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they weren’t dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected: his sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike-- just Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he really was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly: do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re never early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t have to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy. Doctor doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t too comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just was . Rather than being cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in: In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole… thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything to forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but instead seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to obscure the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well are you seeing someone, Jonathan? -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will needed to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little understanding between best friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too everything to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the disgusting amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress. Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No-- no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s nothing . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even see us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I meant what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I meant because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

#stonathan #jonathan byers x steve harrington #byeler #will byers x mike wheeler #byler #finally reposting in a way that isn't a random post with a link alksdja #prompts #my fics

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

Note

Hi Steph!! I was wondering if you knew of any really long fics (like 25k or more) that are only one chapter, I travel a lot sometimes and some places don't really have good enough internet for multi chapter fics. So yeah, any really long one chapter fics about John and Sherlock would be appreciated. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!!

LOL OKAY FUNNY STORY. I almost replied to this with “oof I’ll have to read EVERYTHING so I’m sorry.... and then... I remembered.......

I put chapter counts on everything 🙃😐

I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. 🖍

Anyway, so yes, I can definitely rec you some fics! BUT I should also offer you two suggestions you can totally do to read ANY fic!

On Ao3, you can click on the “Entire Work” button to load ALL chapters of a fic (it’s the very first button along the top) and in turn you can then just read it all there!

And the very last button along the top, you can Download copies of the fic to your phone or computer with eBook file types (AZw3 for Kindle, ePub for iPhone’s Books app, and MOBI is for other mobile devices and e-readers), the HTML if you want to read it as-is in a web-browser, or the PDF format which is a universal file format that is supported by everything, even web browsers, so it’s a good one to download if you don’t know what format you need :) If you read on an eReader, though, I can’t recommend enough just downloading the format for your device. You get to keep a copy of the fic AND the eReader keeps it nicely formatted. It’s a BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL feature that Ao3 gave us, because I like downloading all my fics and read them later in iBooks. Once you start that, Nonny, you can’t do it any other way. AND at the VERY END of the fics, it links BACK to the original post so you can bookmark, kudos, and comment on it!! <3

So yeah, two options you can do to solve your poopy internet and still read long fics hee hee! <3

ANYWAY EXCUSE FOR A NEW LIST LOL.

ALSO, side note, check out @silentauroriamthereal; a large chunk of her fics are both long AND one chapter, so it’s a good place to go and she’s a brilliant author so I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! <3 Plus a lot of her fics are on this list, so I am sorry hahah.

AND I wanted to make the list a bit longer than I had, so I picked fics over 20K, if that’s alright :) As always, if you wrote a 20k+ single chapter fic, let us know!

SINGLE CHAPTER FICS OVER 20K WORDS

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (E, 31,672 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, HLV Fix It, Infidelity, Pining Sherlock, First Person POV Sherlock) – Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism || John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Infidelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #long fics #single chapter fics #Anonymous

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sparklingchan · 4 years ago

Text

Tipsy Turvy || Choi San(Ateez)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Choi San

Word count : 5k+

Warnings : Cuss words , alcohol , hangover , mentions of over drinking, not proof read.

Genre : Fluff , a tiny bit of angst , romance , friends to lovers au.

Description : You have a complicated relationship with San , and the alcohol in your system makes it worse ( or better).

Author's Note : So with all honesty , I have NO idea how people behave when drunk so I searched it up and wrote this 90% based on that ( and 10% on my friends’ advice). I hope at least one of y’all get the horrible pun in the title -_-

Please do reblog , like and comment if you like this. My DMs are also open so if you want to gimme a review , feel free.

Enjoy!

The coffee in the cup must have gone cold by now, because the moment you touch it’s surface ,you don't feel the same sting as you did a few minutes ago.

Not that it tasted good anyway. You're almost glad you didn't have to drink it but maybe, right now, you could use a sip or two to spare yourself a few seconds of peace.

"The coffee is wonderful, isn't it? It's my favorite one." The man in front of you - Mike - needs to seriously give you a break, or else there will be blood on the streets. Literally, "I'm glad you like it."

Does he not see the clearly disgusted look on your face ? Or was he so sure you'd like this drink just because he ordered it without even asking you?

"Yeah ,its fine." You sigh , touching your lips to the mouth of the cup and then putting it back down. You're not drinking that already tasteless and now cold coffee. No way.

"So ,y/n, since we're expected to give our parents an answer after this date, I'd like to know about your opinions first . And please be honest. I would hate to upset you." He says , scratching his chin .

Your eyes widen at the unexpected string of words. This is the first time since this stupid date began that he actually asked your opinion on anything.

"Well," you begin, your mind filling up with tons of words that you'd waited patiently to let out , "Marriage is a big decision. At least for me. And this is all too fast. I just hope we have enough time to know each other before our parents set the date."

He nods his head , “ I agree, I agree. Its important . Right."

You furrow your brows. His reaction seems very forced. Like he really didn't agree with you , but for the sake of it , he's agreeing.

"And what kind of qualities do you look for in a man,y/n?" You want to roll your eyes at the question but you pull your lips up in a smile, not quiet touching your eyes but enough to convince him. You wonder why he was trying so hard to save a date that had been going downhill from the moment he sat down in front of you. You guys clearly didn't like each other, and the spark was missing.

A spark you'd only ever felt with one person.

"Its difficult to describe ideal types but yeah,I'd like someone who's compatible with me and loving and well.. obviously respectful." You say. Mike chuckles at your answer , as if amused by it, "I was expecting you to say you wanted someone who's rich and handsome like...me , honestly. But it's alright." You wonder if he actually hears himself because he really sounded like a self absorbed piece of shit right now. And you'd really do anything to escape from this date.

"Well , I guess not. " you reply with a chuckle. In all honesty, you yourself don't know what your ideal type is. It's not about the conditions or requirements that a person fulfills. It's not a job , it's a connection. You can't confine people to certain criterias. It defies the whole purpose of that connection. And even if you did have qualities you looked for in a man , everything would always end up pointing at only one damn person. You push his images away even before they can surface into your mind.

"So anyway, as I was saying before the coffee arrived , my dad bought this really pretty yacht for me last month and it's super amazing to - " and you shut him out completely while he continues blabbering and you quietly sip the disgusting coffee in front of you.

You really want to groan now. Like on his face. Putting emphasis on how draining and boring this whole conversation is for you.

But all you do is smile and nod.

You were going to reject him the moment your parents set you up on a date with a ' nice and charming bachelor '. What side of Mike did they find even remotely nice or charming? You would never know. But one thing is sure now ,you will at least not have to deal with your parents pestering you for marriage after you reject Mike.

The weather is extremely humid today , despite it having rained in the morning so without a doubt , you'd spent your day indoors , reading a book and drinking unhealthy amount of fruit punch.

"Are they still upset ? " your parents should have seen it coming ,really. The rejection was as inevitable as the rising of the sun every morning or the setting of the sun in the evening. Yet , your parents are pretty disappointed at the decision even after three days since that stupid date. You , on the other hand are happy to have gotten rid of Mike - even if it meant your parents being angry.

Your younger brother , Jongho ,sighs into the phone, " What do you think? They really thought you'd finally marry now."

You don't really blame them though. Not at all. That's what they were always taught ,weren't they? Graduate high school, finish college ,get a good job and get married. The full circle.That is all they've every known yet you find yourself upset at the fact that they didn't consider your unwillingness to this marriage ( or any other marriage) at all. You're just barely starting to work ,you cannot throw away all of that to be a good wife and daughter in law. Sure Mike is the son of some rich man who does business with your father, but economical relationships cannot be a basis for a marriage.

"Well, I can't help it . I'm not marrying that asshole at any cost. " you huff , " He is so creepy and weird. Let mom and dad stay pressed. I don't care."

"Is it just because you didn't find Mike interesting or something else?" Jongho asks.

"I guess? " you reply, scratching the back of your head.

"You know , y/n, I understand that you don't want to get married and whatever but we both know there's a solid reason behind it and I am sick of you denying it all the time." Jongho is too honest for your liking. Too brutal , no sugarcoated words. Just the truth.

And the truth stings.

"Shut up." You grumble, fiddling with the book in your hands , legs dangling from the edge of your bed, " I told you not to mention it ever again?"

"Y/n, you love him. Okay? You have loved him for seven years now . It is high time you shoot your shot or else you'll end up with some rich asshole who doesn't give two shits about you!"

He's right,of course he is. His words are not really an opinion or a vague prediction of the future. Those are facts. But hearing him say all that out loud makes your blood turn cold in your body. Fear creeping through every inch of your skin , making it hard to think clearly.

"I don't think it matters if I love him or not. I gave up on him. We haven't spoken much ever since college ended. " you say.

" You didn't give up. You just ran away instead of acknowledging it. There's a difference." Jongho replies , " And for your kind information it's only been six months since college got over. You need to stop talking like it was twenty years ago or something. "

You chuckle at his last phrase, grateful that he's trying to uplift the weirdly tense mood. "I don't think I can do it , Jongho. I want to. I really do but I don't think he likes me back." You admit.

"You're delusional if you think he doesn't like you back, y/n. All the late night car drives, movie dates , eating unhealthy food late into the nights - San loves you too. Obviously he does."

You sigh ,running your fingers over the rough page of the book in your lap. 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' The words read out. The tightening of your chest increases.

"He was just being nice." You mutter.

Jongho sighs loudly from the other side , "Okay , believe what you want . I can't handle both you and mom-dad together, okay? Spare me your bullshit. Bye."

Wow, talk about being a rude, disrespectful child !

You are usually not the one to point fingers or put blame on other people , but you really despised your best friend right now. And you have every right to do so. Your best friend is the main reason why your parents are so desperately trying to get you married and see you settle down and have kids and whatever. Jisoo is the epitome of every good quality all parents desire in a daughter. She's perfect. Even more than that sometimes.

"How's your husband?" Your question doesn't sound very genuine - the words slipping out of your tongue like they were being forced out. But Jisoo seems to let it go.

"He's good , really good. " She replies ,taking a sip from the only can of cola you had left in your fridge. She passes it over to you.

"How lucky ." You mutter , taking a sip of the same drink.

"I know what you're thinking ,y/n. I know your ass is upset about everything that happened with Mike but things take time. Okay? I married early because I wanted to." she says, reading right through you like you were a book she'd read millions of times ,"If you don't want to marry , don't. Stop blaming yourself for not finding good guys." " I wonder if I'll ever find anyone even remotely nice, Jisoo. The only few guys I've been set up on dates with are not my type and well , Mike ... I don't know. We're just not compatible." You complain , " And besides I'm so terrified of marrying a guy I barely know."

Jisoo sighs , "Then marry a guy you've known for a long time."

"Who are you talking about?" You frown. You know exactly who she is talking about but you want to hear her say it. Say his name which you dare not even repeat to yourself when alone.

"Choi San ,of course. The love of your life ,your sun and stars , your sweetheart. " she says , her dreamy eyes widening to exaggerate her point.

You slap her arm hard , almost a little too hard. But you're convinced that she deserves it. "Ow !" She yells ,rubbing the sore area on her arm.

"That name is forbidden in my vicinity." You say.

Okay ,maybe now you are the one who deserves a slap. On the cheek. You couldn't believe that his name still fills your stomach with butterflies and causes your heart to beat so fast that you feel dizzy even though you claim that you're over him.

"No, it's not, y/n. Come on ,dude. You're still not over him. You will never be unless you confess and face the supposed rejection on your own. Only then you'll find it in yourself to seek other guys , unless that's not what you want." She jabs her finger on your shoulder softly , "That, or you can marry San himself. It's very simple ,really."

Now that she put it that way ,it sounds even more complicated and it sends your mind to a voyage into the sea of memories that you rarely even acknowledged anymore( or at least ,you tried to).

San's pretty eyes and alluring smile , the soft hold of his hand on your arm as you run to the movie halls just five minutes before it closes , the warmth of his hugs that you so dearly loved , his silky black hair that you've wanted to touch on so many occasions and the day you were sure he had leaned in to kiss you but your annoying brother decided to call just at that exact moment. You almost wish you could go back to your university graduation day , and wait a little longer for him after the event got over and tell him that he meant the world to you. More than he could ever imagine. You really wish you had waited that day.

"Jongho has this stupid theory that he likes me too. He's making me even more confused. " you say.

"At least Jongho has more brain cells than you. That kid deserves an award or something." Jisoo replies , chuckling.

"He's not a kid. He's just a year younger than me and you." You deadpan. Great, your best friend and brother are now on the same team.

She rolls her eyes , "Yeah , you are a kid too. Only a kid acts so naive and stupid when everything they've ever wanted is right there in front of them. Hell, even a kid would realise that San loves you !"

Jisoo talks a lot , but her words are never empty or vague. She says whatever she wants to and has to. And she is always able to make a point. But you're a dumb bitch who likes to pretend she's still not in love with her childhood sweetheart and is looking for love somewhere else.

"Anyway, can we go for a drink?"

"Glad you finally asked." Jisoo grabs your arm and drags you out of the house.

Your favorite bar in the entire world has to be the one you've been going to since you were in high school. From your first time drinking to vomiting in its toilet after having way too many vodka shots , from dancing with your friends to crying alone in a corner , that place has seen it all.

Coincidentally( not really), its Jisoo's favorite bar too.

"Okay, y/n. I think you should stop now. That's enough."

Coincidentally also ,you happen to not have a good alcohol tolerance yet an endearing desire to drown your sorrows in those glasses.

"No, I'm not even properly drunk." You whine ,your words only barely making sense to Jisoo. She grabs the glass away from you.

"Come on , let's take you home. " she tries to pull you from your seat , "Can't believe I thought it was a good idea to drink on a weekday."

"No, no, Jisoo. " you resist , pushing her away. " I want to..stay. here. I like it here. It's so warm and cozy . If I go home, I'll cry. I hate home. It's so ugly. Ew. This place is so pretty ."

Your vision is so blurry that your brain can't even form clear images anymore. You see Jisoo's form after squinting hard enough.

"You won't cry. I'll take care of you, y/n. Come on." Jisoo is so insistent you have to hold yourself back from punching her. Her lucky ass would never understand how much in pain your heart is in. And how much the alcohol helps in forgetting all that even just for a few minutes.

"You go home. I'll stay. I'll stay here for as long as I can. Away from all you blood suckers." You slur. And then giggle for no apparent reason.

Jisoo heaves a sigh ,sitting beside you. "Are you going to come with me or do I have to call San to pick you up?"

That was a threat. Jisoo always uses the same one and somehow, it always seems to work. Not today though.

"Hah! Joke's on you ! He doesn't care about me." You point at her face , giggling again.

San? Taking care of you? Funniest joke of the year.

"He does ,y/n. You know he does. What are you being like this?" She asks , rubbing your hand comfortingly. "I see the way he looks at you."

"He probably has a girlfriend already. He always posts romantic shit on Instagram. " you say ,resting your chin on your arm.

"He doesn't have one. I know he doesn't. He probably posts all that for you." She says.

You want to believe her but your brain feels fuzzy and foggy now. Like the sky on winter mornings.

"I want to see San, Jisoo. I miss him. I miss him so much. " you keep muttering under your breath , "Take me to him. I miss him."

Jisoo stares at you - wide eyed and slightly annoyed. Your low alcohol tolerance will get you into serious trouble one day.

"We can see him tomorrow. Let's go home now. Now." She pulls your arm again.

You push her off , "I said I want to see San ! Right now! Take me to him!"

You have never yelled at anyone while in a drunken state before so the sudden increased volume of your voice scares Jisoo. She let's go of your arm.

"Okay, will you come home after meeting San?" Jisoo asks ,taking her phone out to call a cab.

"Yes. No. Depends. I never want to be away from him." You say. "Take me to him , please. I haven't seen him in months. Years. I don't remember how long. Do you think he'll recognize me?"

Shaking her head , Jisoo makes a mental note to never take you out for drinking again.

San lives a few minutes away from your own apartment, but with traffic sometimes it takes almost an hour to reach his apartment.

Today must have been your lucky day because the traffic was almost negligible. Although you don't remember the journey to his house , you do remember his familiar voice greeting you and Jisoo like he had almost expected you both to arrive at his door this late at night.

"She was throwing a tantrum that she wanted to see you. So I brought her here. I hope it's not a problem. " Jisoo says in her sweet voice that she uses on everyone but you and her husband. You scowl.

"Hey, I wasn't throwing a tantrum! " You hit her arm again , but she puts on the fakest smile when San looks at the both of you with a confused face.

"And she's not very sober right now." Jisoo admits ,sighing. San presses his lips in line , observing you as play with the hem of your tshirt and your eyes are focused on his face. You never had so much confidence in a sober state. He knows this because he's seen you like this a million times before and hopefully, if all goes well tonight , he might see this state in the future too.

His stomach does a back flip when you stick out your bottom lip in a cute little pout.

"It's okay. She can stay the night here. I believe you have something important to tell me ,y /n?" San asks, titling his head.

You nod , beaming with happiness. Your eyes never leave his perfect face and his beautiful black hair which he decided to tie in a small ponytail tonight and his toned arms and his breathtakingly sweet dimples as he leads you inside, bidding goodbye to your bestfriend. Jisoo must be very relieved right now ,you think.

"Do you need a glass of water ,y/n?" San asks you , as he takes you gently by the arm to his bedroom. His alert eyes are always on your steps ,making sure you do not trip on anything.

"No. " you giggle. You're so happy to be with him alone at last that you can barely contain it . "I missed you ,San."

He laughs at your words ,shaking his head in disbelief as he makes you sit on his warm ,fluffy bed.

You've always wanted to sit there.

"Waoowww , this bed is so soft. " you swing your legs up and down with a big grin on your face , "I want to sleep on this bed. Oh my god ,awww."

San sees you lean down against the headboard and laugh at the ceiling, pointing out peculiar patterns . You look very content right now ,he notices. Your flushed cheeks , big , curious eyes , messy hair , yet he thinks you look beautiful like this - raw and natural and pretty.

"San! Sit with me, come here." You say , patting the empty space beside you.

San obliges without a question. He pushes you gently to the other side of the bed , himself settling beside you , careful not to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.

"What it is that you wanted to tell me ?" San questions, his fingers reaching upto your forehead to remove the strands of hair that cover your eyes.

"Promise me you won't be mad. " You hum into his touch ,wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around his body and snuggle into his chest. But even with alcohol in your system ,you know better than to do that.

"I promise." He replies with a toothy grin. His head leans on the headboard beside yours , his beautiful brown eyes drilling into yours ,making your knees go weak and heart flutter. And if it were possible to replace all blood from your body with physical adoration for Choi San ,you would have done it already. "Pinky promise?" You ask again ,lifting your right pinky up in front of his face.

Sighing , he connects his pinky to yours then pressing your thumbs together, "Pinky promise."

You take a deep breath then as naturally as ever ,the words you've always wanted to say roll out of your mouth , "I like you. "

San's breathing gets stuck in his throat , his whole being as if swallowed into a black hole for a few seconds. He stares at you like you were suddenly someone he'd never seen , never heard of before. Like you were a stranger that caught his eye in the mall. Like a gemstone he'd found while digging the ground. Like a precious falling star on a cloudy night.

"I-I mean we have known each other for sometime now. It's normal that you like me. As a friend." He stammers.

You roll your eyes , " I did not mean as a friend ,you idiot. I meant I like you as a man. You're so stupid, gosh." You punch his arm.

His heart skips a beat. He'd always known deep down his heart that this confession would happen one day or the other - but he had always hoped it would be him to say it first ,not you. His ego is a teeny tiny bit hurt.

"I know you don't like me , " you whine , your excited tone now suddenly switching into a sad one , " I know you won't date me."

San frowns at this new melancholic side of yours.

"Why would you think that?" He asks.

"I just know ,okay?" You say ,tears filling your eyes , " And that's why I agreed to an arranged marriage."

"You must have met someone nice then?" He takes his hand in yours.

Jongho was right - you love him. So much that it hurts to look at him ,knowing that one day you'll have to marry a man who isn't him. It hurts like someone is pressing a hot metal rod onto your skin.

You start sobbing.

"No! Of course not ! I don't want anyone but you! " You yell , a little too loud , " But my parents are still insistent about it. How do I tell them that I can't marry anyone else because I'm so in love with you?"

That's another new piece of information for San. But this one makes his heart drop into the deepest pits of his stomach , making him go numb for a few seconds. You were almost taken away from him, just because he'd always put your relationship in a complicated situation. You had almost held someone else's hand on the alter. You had almost ended up in someone else's arms.

The image of you with another man nauseates him and he decides to stop being a coward . Right now ,right at this moment .

"I like you ,too, you idiot." He says , not quite meeting your teary eyes." Don't go find anyone else. I'm here. I really am ,y/n."

His sincere voice washes over you like the first showers of monsoon - refreshing and enchanting. You feel like melting into a puddle under his gaze.

"I wasn't planning on anyway. " You sniff and rub your tears away. He leans in closer to your face , rubbing your cheekbones with the pad of his thumb. And you , being the shameless person you are , stare at his kissable, pink lips. If you lean in a little more , they'd touch and you could finally kiss him. You really want to . Would he mind ?

He presses a soft kiss on your forehead , pulling you into his warm embrace.

"I want to go to sleep and wake up like this every morning." You mumble into his chest , your hand playing with the hem of his t-shirt. "We will. I promise." he replies. The thought itself makes him feel warm inside , "I'll talk to your parents about the arranged marriage thing. They love me more than they would any other guy out there."

Your parents in fact do love San. Whenever they met him , they'd be filled with praises for him. Although a little jealous , you could easily see why San was so easy to like.

"You smell so nice." You say abruptly , drowsiness slowly taking over you , your eye lids getting heavier by the minute.

San's chest vibrates as his laugh fills the room , "Thank you, y/n."

"Will you be here when I wake up? You aren't going to run off, right? " You are just spewing out random sentences at this point but he doesn't complain either way. He likes this honest and vulnerable side of you.

"I'll be right here. Don't worry. " he whispers ,running his fingers through your hair , "But I'm pretty sure you won't remember anything tomorrow ."

You laugh, a big hearty laugh as you finally find enough courage to lightly wrap your arm around his torso. "I'll remember, San . I never forget."

San rubs your head soothingly , smiling to himself, knowing that even if you forget about it in the morning , he'll really be there to remind you of it. He'll be there by your side, as he always has been.

Every hangover is like a cycle that includes pain , regret and a promise to never drink so much again yet you somehow always seem to be struggling with the last one.

And the inevitable headache that follows makes you feel like someone had thrusted millions of knives in your head.

It hurt. Badly.

You stir in your position ,groaning at your throbbing head.

"Woah , good morning , sleepy head." San purrs into your ears , his early morning voice sending chills down your spine.

Wait. San? Choi San? With you in his arms? On a bed?

You sit up at the speed of a lightning bolt , breaking away from his warm embrace and crawling to the farthest corner of the bed. You look around the room , your heartbeat in your throat , taking in the unfamiliar surroundings that reminded you of what you might have done while in a drunken state.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your eyes scan San, his sleepy face pressed to the pillow and his lips curved in a smile. His white t-shirt hangs loose from his shoulder, exposing the skin near his collarbone and his black, messy hair covering half of his face.

And even in panic mode , your first thought is that he looks ethereal with that early morning glow. Is this what being whipped really means?

"Y/n, don't tell me you forgot what happened last night. " he says ,visibly annoyed. He forces himself up in a sitting position as he runs his fingers through his messy hair.

You look away from him , adrenaline rushing through your veins as you try to recall last night's episode. Surely ,you didn't sleep with him since both of you are fully clothed and you didn't feel sore anywhere. Thankfully.

"Y/n? " he calls you again but you don't reply because your brain is way too occupied at the moment.

You remember the sound of a very weird combination of words leaving your mouth last night and an even weirder combination of words leaving his. And that's when it hits you - you had confessed to him. Full on movie style. All those years of daydreaming and trying to keep everything a secret gone into vain , your heart placed naked in front of him.

"Oh fucking hell." You hold your head in between your hands ,closing your eyes.

Maybe this was all a dream and if you focused hard enough ,you'd wake up in your bed , alone and yearning for the man supposedly in front of you. But that would still be better than this.

"Y/n, it's alright. You don't have to be embarrassed. " San says, inching closer to you.

You sigh. It's not a dream and you have to face him now.

"I-I'm sorry for whatever I said last night. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable at all. I don't know what had gotten into me." You say, rubbing your forehead.

By now , San is kneeling right in front of you, his galaxy filled eyes never leaving yours.

"I should be sorry , you idiot." He says , gently tapping your forehead ," if I wasn't such a coward and had confessed to you earlier , everything would have been different now. But better late than never , right?"

You gulp hard.

Now is the time to wake up , y/n, I'm going to be super pissed if this turns out to be a dream, you wonder to yourself.

"So..what you're saying is - "

"I like you , yes. Not as a friend , not as a classmate. I like you as a woman and if you agree to this ," San leans in dangerously closer , "Then I'll like you as a girlfriend, too."

You didn't need time to agree to this. You didn't need a second thought. You only need a small tug at your heartstring , which happened everytime you see his eyes focused on you and only you.

"Yes." You say.

His face breaks into a massive grin as he wraps his arms around you , with yours around his torso. You can feel the fast beating of his heart against your cheek as you snuggle into his chest .

"Thank you. Thank you so much." He whispers into your hair. Your cheeks are burning red by now but it's alright. It's a good type of burning. You can come to like it in the near future.

You don't know how long it is before he finally decides to pull away , much to your dismay.

"I'm going to make breakfast . Are pancakes okay with you?" He says , his arms by his side but his body still close to yours.

"Yeah. Obviously. " You loved his pancakes, as a matter of fact. Once, Jongho had even forced you to confess to San during your college years just so he could eat those delicious pancakes whenever he wanted to.

"Okay. You can go freshen up in the bathroom by then." He then unexpectedly takes your face in his hands , inching closer to yours with every passing second, " Don't miss me too much though."

You pout, playing along , " I already do."

And just like that , he presses his soft , luscious lips to yours, enveloping them in a quick kiss.

"Bye." And just like that too , he runs away into the kitchen , avoiding confronting what had just happened while you are left frozen and shocked and petrified and all synonyms of those words in the English dictionary.

But you hear him hum his favourite song softly from the kitchen and your shoulders relax.

Relax , y/n , you tell yourself , it's just San and he is your boyfriend now.

162 notes · View notes

violetwolfraven · 4 years ago

Text

Lean on Me

45 for javid—requested by @livininmyhead

I’ve been lowkey parenting all my friends/siblings alone for a while and now you’re helping me and idk what to do with this???

((I know this is a bit different from my usual style, but I’m trying something out so I hope you like it, anyway.))

...

“Hey, what’s wrong, Elmer?”

“It’s nothin’. It’s fine.”

“It clearly ain’t, so what is it?”

“I didn’t make enough to keep my bed tonight. I’m gonna have to sleep at home. I prefer it here, most of the time, but for one night, it’s no big deal. Like I said, it’s nothin’.”

“Don’t you have like... 10 big brothers and sisters, all livin’ in a normal-sized apartment?”

“I have 8. Why?”

“Nah. You’re not goin’ back there. Sharin’ space is bad enough in a Lodging House, but at least there’s enough for all of us. You can sleep with me and Crutchie on the fire escape for the night.”

“Jack, I—“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Elmer. And I ain’t lettin’ ya say no, so can the ‘you don’t have to’ bullshit.”

“I... thanks, Jack.”

“Like I said. Don’t worry ‘bout it, kiddo.”

...

“Hey, Jack, ya got a minute?”

“Sure. Need to talk?”

“I was wonderin’... you’re good with things, right? Like... charmin’ people?”

“You’re askin’ me?”

“No, I know how to do it with just anybody to sell papes or whatever. But... but what if it was someone ya actually wanted to... ya know...”

“Ooh! Lookin’ to woo a girl, Romeo?”

“Um... maybe... kind of.”

“...oh. Oh, Ro... It ain’t a girl, is it?”

“No... is that wrong?”

“No. No, Romeo, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, or you. Never let no one tell you different. Just... be careful. I don’t have to tell ya what could—“

“You don’t.”

“If ya don’t mind me askin’... who is it?”

“It’s Specs.”

“Oh. Oh my... I should have seen that coming a long time ago. Okay, so, for flirting with Specs specifically, here’s what you’re gonna do, kid...”

...

“Albert?”

“J-Jack! I’ll—“

“Hey, kid, where ya goin’? What’s wrong? Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Ain’t no shame in cryin’, Albie. It’s okay. Talk to me, kiddo. What’s up?”

“Go away!”

“No. Like I said, cryin’ ain’t anythin’ to be ashamed of. So why are ya cryin’? What’s wrong, Albert?”

“My... my mom. She’s been sick for a while, but now she’s... she’s...”

“Oh, damn. I’m so sorry, kid.”

“Get off me!”

“Albert, there is no shame in needin’ a shoulder to cry on every now and then, no matter what anyone says. And you just lost your mom, so if anyone’s got an excuse, it’s you. I won’t tell nobody. Just let it all out. It’s gonna be okay.”

...

“Jack?”

“What is—Oh my God!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to—“

“Sniper, did your father do this? I know you’ve mentioned him bein’ bad before, but I never thought it was this bad.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Snipes... I won’t ask if ya don’t want me to. But the Lodging House has gotta be safer than—“

“My mom needs the money. I can’t.”

“Fine. If ya need to keep goin’ back for her... Remember that you’s always got a place here if it ever gets too much... but for now, I’ll patch ya up so you can go back to your ma.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

...

“Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah, what’s up, Mush?”

“You gave Romeo advice on... makin’ moves on people, right?”

“Yes, I did, and if he told ya to come to me... damn. I mean, I suspected, but 4 of my boys? I gots nothin’ against it, but I don’t like that it ain’t safe.

“Yeah... wait, 4?”

“My advice is good, kid. Ro’s got himself a boyfriend. And for you... it’s Blink, ain’t it?”

“How did you—“

“Mush, buddy, ya ain’t as subtle as ya think you are. And trust me; Blink ain’t soft with anyone, but he is with you. He likes you, too. Gettin’ him ain’t gonna be hard. All ya gotta do is be yourself and ask him out. Just pick somewhere that ain’t too obvious as a date spot so nobody suspects. Unfortunately, lovin’ other boys is dangerous, and I don’t wanna lose any of mine because the wrong people found out.”

“You won’t. I’ll be real careful. Thanks, Jack!”

“No problem, kiddo. Good luck!”

...

“Hey, Jojo, ya got a minute?”

“Yeah, why?”

“A couple of the fellas came to me, a bit worried about ya. I was just wonderin’ if you were okay.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Jojo, I’s heard a lot of lies in my day from a lot of liars. And you’s honestly got to be the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s fine, Jack. I can handle it.”

“Mike said you freaked out and went to a bad place just cause he startled you. What’s that about?”

“He saw me writin’ with my left hand, okay? It’s fine. I just forgot what I was doin’ and didn’t mean to use it, but—“

“What’s wrong with usin’ your left hand?”

“It’s wrong. I’ll go to hell because of it.”

“Who told ya that?”

“The nuns.”

“Jo... can you control it? Usin’ your left?”

“No. Why does that—“

“If you can’t control it, ain’t doin’ it on purpose and ain’t hurtin’ anyone by doin’ it, why is it wrong?”

“‘Cause...”

“Look, nuns say a lot of things, and most of ‘em mean well. But they’re learnin’ from a book written a long time ago. Times change. And look—Mush writes with his left. Do ya think he’s goin’ to hell?”

“...no.”

“There ya go. You’re fine just the way you are. Okay? Don’t let no one tell ya different. Need a hug?”

“A hug sounds nice.”

“Come here, kid.”

...

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please don’t—“

“Finch, calm down. You’re in the Manhattan Lodging House. You’re okay. You’re safe. Shh. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya here.”

“Are-are ya sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Your folks ain’t gonna find ya here, and if they do, I won’t let ‘em get to you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Shh. It’s okay. I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’ll protect you, okay? You believe me?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good. Hush, now. Get some sleep.”

...

“Hey, Jack. You awake?”

“Well, I am now.”

“Sorry... do ya really think we can win this? I mean... that Plumber woman is right. We really are just a gang of kids.”

“Hey. We’re a gang of kids with the wit and will to pull this off. We got a reporter willin’ to listen to us. And sure, she’s a girl, but...”

“That’s more than we’ve ever had before.”

“Exactly. We’ll be fine, Crutchie. Don’t you worry ‘bout it.”

“We’ve never had someone like Davey Jacobs, either.”

“We sure haven’t! He’s somethin’ else, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, but... what if Finch is right and the cops come bust our heads?”

“Then I’ll be there takin’ the first hit.”

“Jack—“

“What I mean is, I ain’t gonna let him get to you or any of the rest of the fellas. Don’t worry.”

“I didn’t say anything about him, Jack.”

“Who said anything about him? There’s no ‘him.’”

“Jack, we both know more likely than not, he shows up. Are you gonna be okay?”

“It’ll be fine, Crutchie. I’ll be fine and so will everyone else.”

“That seems like a promise ya shouldn’t—“

“Goodnight, Crutchie. Go to sleep.”

...

“Whoa, Race are you—“

“I’m fine, Jack.”

“Pretty nasty shiner you’ve got, there, so I’d argue that you’re not, but that ain’t why I’m askin’. I know you, Race. I can tell when your smile is faked, and honestly, it is a lot more than it should be, but—“

“Spot didn’t come.”

“What?”

“I thought he’d come for us! I thought he’d show up at the last minute to save us but then he didn’t and he just—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Race. Slow down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Spot Conlon and me... ya know we’re close, right?”

“Yeah, of course I know you’re—oh. Oh. Okay.”

“What? What’s oh?”

“Ya could’ve told me. I mean, I gots a bunch of queer pairs I’ve been helpin’ sneak around.”

“Spot and me ain’t—“

“Save it, Racer. I think we both know that ain’t true.”

“I... you’re really fine with it?”

“Sure. I don’t care who ya fool around with, long as nobody finds out ‘bout ya foolin’ around with boys.”

“No, Jack, ya don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get? What’s this about, Racer?”

“It’s not just foolin’ around! I... Jack, I think I...”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize... I didn’t think Spot Conlon had feelings.”

“That’s the problem, Jack. I don’t know if he does. The problem is that I think... I think I love him. And he didn’t come for me.”

“Oh shit... the L word. Are you... are you sure?”

“I don’t know! I just know that he’s... I care about him like I care about you, but different! He makes me feel like... like I don’t even know what! Like I’m ramblin’ and he understands it all! Like he gets every part of me! And it is so stupid, but I think I get him, too! Or at least I did! Cause I was sure he was coming, and then he didn’t.”

“I’m guessin’ Davey didn’t tell ya yet.”

“Tell me what?”

“Spot sent over a kid to say he’s comin’ next time, so... I guess your boy is comin’ for ya.”

“...yeah. I guess he is.”

“I guess you’ll get a chance to see if he feels the same, but... Hey, listen. I gotta go, okay? I got a man to see. Do ya need me to stay for a bit?”

“Nah, it’s... it’s fine. Thanks, Jack.”

...

“Hey, Jack, ya got a minute?”

“Oh, sure, Mike. Davey, mind if I step away for a second?”

“Is this something that needs to be a secret?”

“No. No, it ain’t a secret. It’s just... Ike didn’t come in tonight, and I knows he ain’t in the Refuge, cause the Refuge is gone, but what if he’s hurtin’ somewhere? He didn’t tell me he was gonna—“

“Mike, buddy, it’s okay. Calm down. We know where he is.”

“Ya do?”

“He came by and said he was gonna spend some time in Brooklyn.”

“Yeah, it’s late enough that he’s probably spending the night. I don’t know Spot Conlon that well, but he doesn’t seem like the type to let a kid walk all the way back here after dark.”

“He ain’t—you’re right. Look, if he don’t come to the circulation gate tomorrow, then we’ll worry. For now, Ike’s almost certainly fine.”

“You’d think he’d remember to tell his brother when he goes places. That shithead.”

“Language!”

“Davey, everybody curses ‘round here. Includin’ you, come to think of it.”

“I know, but... damn. I’m becoming my mother.”

...

“Jack... can we talk? Alone?”

“Sure, Kath. What’s up?”

“There’s no good way to say this... we need to end this. You and me.”

“...what?”

“Jack, I’m sorry, but... I don’t love you. Not like that. You’re a wonderful friend—don’t get me wrong—but I don’t love you. I never did. I just didn’t realize it because besides Bill and Darcy, I’ve never really had any friends. You were the first friend I’ve made in a long time, and... and now that I’ve gotten some time to be better friends with the others, I’m realizing that what we had was never real.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No. I... I guess I was attracted to you, at first, but that faded without me realizing it a long time ago. And I know saying this is hurting you, but... Jack, it wouldn’t be fair to either of us for me to pretend I still want to be with you when I don’t. The fact is, neither of us is what the other really needs. And honestly, I don’t think you ever really loved me, either, and... and if you’re with me, you won’t find that person out there who you will love. I have no doubt that you’ll find someone to love who loves you the way you deserve, Jack.”

“Don’t worry about it, Kath.”

“I really am so sorry. I hope we can still be friends.”

“We can be. Don’t worry about it.”

...

“Hey, Jack? Wait, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Buttons. What is it?”

“It’s nothin’. I can go ask Davey.”

“Ask Davey what?”

“Jack, it’s nothin’ you need to worry ‘bout. You’re clearly not doin’ so well due to the breakup, and—“

“I’m fine, Buttons! Seriously! What is it?”

“It’s just... I didn’t earn enough today to buy my papes tomorrow. Ya know—winter is rough on everyone. I was gonna ask ya to ask around if anyone can spare anythin’, but I can go ask—“

“Ya don’t have to ask Davey. I’ll do it.”

...

“Shh, shh, kid, it’s okay. You’re safe. Everything’s gonna be okay, okay? You’re okay. You’re safe, here.”

“Jack, what’s going on?”

“Oh, crap. I’m sorry, Dave. This is a crappy night for this to happen, bein’ your first night sleepin’ over at the Lodging House, but I can handle this. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Blink? Blink, are you okay?”

“He’s still... not really here. It’ll take some time for him to get back, but you don’t have to stay up. I can handle it by myself. Really, Davey.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to. Blink, do you want me to leave?”

“...no.”

“Okay. Okay, I won’t. It’s okay, Blink. You’re safe. You’re in the Manhattan Lodging House. Me and Jack are right here, okay?”

“We’re both right here for you.”

...

“Specs, what the hell happened to you? Davey! Davey, get in here, and bring some bandages!”

“What’s wro—oh my God!”

“It ain’t the worst that’s happened, Jack, and you know it.”

“Yeah, that don’t mean I gotta like it. Was it..?”

“Some shitheads who didn’t like me bein’ darker-skinned than them? Yeah. I’ll survive, though.”

“You know how wrong that is, right Specs?”

“Well, obviously, Davey. I’m the one who got soaked.”

“Where are they?”

“Davey—“

“Where are they? I get enough shit for being Jewish that I know a bit of what he’s goin’ through, Jack. And people like that—“

“Gettin’ soaked by a bunch of guys bigger than you won’t solve nothin’, Davey. And believe me, that is all that’ll happen if you go after them.”

“Fine. At least stay in bed tomorrow and rest up. I’ll sell extra to make up you missing.”

“I’ll help. Romeo probably will, too.”

“Thanks, Jack. Thanks, Davey.”

“Thank us after we patch you up.”

...

“If ya tell anyone about this, Jackie Boy, you won’t live long enough to see me deny it.”

“Relax, Spot. I ain’t tellin’ anyone. How’d ya wind up with a dislocated shoulder, anyway?”

“That’s my business. Are ya gonna fix it or not?”

“Oh, I’m gonna. It’ll hurt less if it’s a surprise, though, so’s we gotta talk about somethin’ else. Um... so, you and Racer?”

“...yeah, I guess.”

“That is so weird to think about. I never would have seen that one coming. I don’t need to tell you that if ya hurt him, Manhattan’ll go to war, right?”

“I ain’t gonna hurt him.”

“You’d better not.”

“I’m serious. I ain’t gonna—ah!”

“There. Your shoulder’s fixed. You’re welcome. And... you’s got real feelins’ for Race, don’t ya?”

“...maybe.”

“Good. Cause I‘s known Race a long time, and he fakes half his smiles. But the ones he gets when he talks to me ‘bout you are always real. He’s got it bad for ya, Conlon. You’d better not break him.”

“I won’t. Ever. Cause... cause maybe I’ve got it bad for him, too. But if ya ever tell him or anyone else I told you that—“

“I know, I know. I’ll be dead by midnight. My lips are sealed.”

“They’d better be. So... you and Walkin’ Mouth?”

“What?!”

...

“Where did you learn to braid, Jack?”

“Well, it was a long time ago, but I did have a mother once upon a time, Sarah.”

“Oh my God, I’m so—“

“It’s fine. I don’t talk about her much, but she’s been gone long enough that it don’t hurt so much. And ya know, when Smalls first got here, she had this super long hair that she needed to keep out of the way, ‘fore she asked Crutchie to cut it. Somebody had to help her.”

“Oh. That’s nice of you.”

“So, Sarah...”

“Jack?”

“I was wonderin’... I ran into Spot Conlon a while back, and he mentioned some things about... do Davey and me act like we’s together?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No..?”

“I thought you were together! I just assumed Davey wasn’t telling me about it because... well, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to be together? With Davey?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Well, I’d suggest figuring that out, cause David’s always had a stick up his ass, and I’ve never seen him relax the way he does with you. You make him feel free to be... Davey.”

“You’re sayin’ he wants to be with me?!”

“God, Kelly. You really are oblivious. Yes, you stupid cowboy. So finish this braid and go get him.”

...

“Jackie, can you sit down? Please?”

“I can’t, Davey. I gotta—“

“Everyone’s accounted for. Well, except Race, but Jojo said he saw him headed towards Brooklyn earlier. He’s probably spending the night and forgot to tell us.”

“The dishes—“

“It was Romeo’s turn and I made sure he did ‘em hours ago.”

“Specs—“

“I checked his ribs again this afternoon and he’s healing fine. Everyone’s fine, Jackie. Sit down.”

“...thanks, Davey.”

“You’re welcome. I think you forget sometimes that everybody needs somebody to lean on occasionally, even you.”

“I ain’t been leanin’ on anyone since I was... since I started leadin’ Manhattan.”

“And everyone leans on you. I know. You like knowin’ they’re all safe and happy, but who makes sure you’re safe and happy? Nobody—that’s the answer, so don’t try to argue it. So I guess it’s gotta be me. If no one else, I guess I’m the one you can lean on.”

#newsies #javid #javey #david jacobs #jack kelly #dad friend jack kelly #big brother jack kelly #background spromeo #background sprace #background blush #violet’s writing

64 notes · View notes

lesbianrobin · 4 years ago

Note

i think season three is good, but there are a few things about it that absolutely enrage me to an overdramatic amount, and here i shall list them lol. also this will be in more than one ask because i have too many thoughts. ok, the first is how hopper went from trying his best to threatening children, having that "girls can't choose who they date they aren't smart" mindset, gaslighting Joyce/not believing her when she has basically always been correct, and tricking her into a date?? 1/? lol

next, i hate how they went "here, take billy's sad childhood and him saving el and forgive his racist actions! go! FETCH!" and we were supposed to be like "yayyy! what a nice guy!!!" you know? like... a sad childhood isn't redemption? it may vaguely explain things, but not excuse them? i also was disappointed with el and max's friendship being based off them being mean to their (admittedly mediocre) boyfriends? like- yall are in 8th grade dating sucks why are we being mean just communicate? 2/?

and it felt like max and el's friendship was supposed to come of as this "wow FEMINISM!" thing, and it really wasn't at all? i mean i could totally see kids perceiving this "girls rule boys drool" thing as empowering, but i just wish that if they are going to go the whole (adorable) "sleepovers, wonder woman, shopping, normal, not-supernaturalish (if that makes sense)" female friendship, they didn't base it on... well... men?

(i'm sorry i'm saying so much lol) they are also setting up problems for character development and writing. if they continue to add characters for no reason, characters are going to keep loosing purpose because there are less roles to fill than actual characters. Admittedly, the characters they add for seemingly no reason are usually so fun that i end up shutting my mouth and taking back my complaint? like max, robin, erica, not you billy, alexi, heather, etc. 4/? (i'm so sorry i'm hyperfixated)

and don'T EVEN GET ME STARTED (lmao i've clearly started) ON THE RUSSIAN STUFF?! LIKE WHAT!??!? WHO IS THIS TERMINATOR BITCH AND WHY WAS ~HE~ THE ONE TO KILL OF A NEW LOVABLE SIDE CHARACTER??? AND WHY IS HOPPER RECKLESSLY KILLING??? (sorry i am yelling the anger is not at you, you seem lovley) LIKE WHAT?!? tHIS TOXIC MASCULINITY HOPPER CRAP NEEDS TO CEASE PLEASE, I BEG. anyway there was no point to making the terminator guy other than a reference. ok i think i'm done?? thanks for listening lol.

so i’m gonna be honest man the only thing i agree with you on is that the way they handled billy was bullshit. i wholeheartedly disagree with all the rest but i’m very glad you got it all off your chest kjdcnmnd like. i’m gonna share my thoughts on some of this and i REALLY don’t mean to be rude i just like talking about stranger things so please don’t take this as me trying to argue or whatever bc that is not my intention!!

so i don’t think hopper having a problem with el and mike has anything to do with him thinking el isn’t smart or that she can’t make her own decisions. el’s a kid, and she’s only been allowed to be a kid for like... two years, max? he’s worried that she’s growing up too fast, mourning the inevitable end of her childhood which has just barely begun, and yeah, he’s overprotective, too, but he’s pretty clearly painted as being in the wrong for how he handled things. he changed his ways by the end of the season, and through the speech he wrote it’s clear that his issues stemmed from his own fears of her growing up, not from him thinking she was stupid. change isn’t typically sudden or easy, and i really do think that hopper was trying his best at the start of s3 (he lets el hang out with her friends as much as she wants, trusts her to roam freely and keep herself safe, etc). he just still had a little way to go.

i also don’t personally see how hopper “tricked” joyce into a date when she agreed to go and then didn’t show up. joyce is an adult, and she was perfectly capable of telling hopper no (she actually did tell him no once, and then didn’t object later). he was never threatening or manipulative to her. he was a total bitch after he got stood up, and they did overdo it, but he most certainly wasn’t gaslighting her. he genuinely didn’t think that there was something going on! he thought she was paranoid due to her trauma, trauma that he personally has been through and is sympathetic to. he still helped her check things out, even when he didn’t think there was a real problem, because he wanted to give her peace of mind. while you can argue he was dumb or disrespectful not to believe her, he didn’t have any intention of making joyce feel crazy or of deceiving her.

and the reason that the kids aren’t communicating well in s3 is because they’re... well, kids. have you ever seen an eighth-grade relationship where both parties communicate maturely about their problems? if they were older i would agree that the conflict was dumb, but it makes perfect sense for kids their age. i also don’t really have an issue (personally) with how the elmax friendship started. the whole point is that el came to max asking for dating advice, and max shows el that she doesn’t have to revolve her whole life around her boyfriend, she can develop her own identity and be her own person.

a lot of people in the fandom share your trepidation about adding new characters, so i’m definitely outnumbered here, but i don’t personally have a problem with it at all. i think alexei could have been better-utilized, but his existence didn’t interfere or detract from anything with existing characters. in fact, i think he gave murray some more development and allowed for more dynamic interactions between joyce and hopper. max and robin were both “new characters,” and i’m not being hyperbolic when i say they’re two of the best-written and best-acted characters in the show. when i go back and watch s1 now, things just feel wrong without max, and robin is a revelation. i think that adding new characters makes the world of stranger things feel more organic and allows for the stakes to remain somewhat high without making the writers feel like they have to kill off one of our beloved OGs.

russian terminator... yeah you’re right that shit was weird as fuck. i don’t think hopper killing the dudes down in the base was “toxic masculinity” or anything though like he’s a veteran and the guys he killed were all soldiers and he was just trying to get to the gate to shut it down no matter the cost, yknow? it was a matter of life and death, and with a giant monster trying to kill his daughter i think him killing anyone in the way of him preventing that is kind of... fair. but yeah i don’t really get the point of terminator guy like it was so fucking weird sdknckdnm

thanks for the asks!!! the fandom’s been kinda dead lately and it’s so fun to still be able to talk about st!!

#long post #stranger things #em talks #himbos-are-my-lifeblood

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princecharmingmendes · 5 years ago

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Heartstrings | Chapter VIII | Shawn Mendes

“ ‘It’s like a best friend, but more. It’s the one person in the world that knows you better than anyone else. It’s someone who makes you a better person, well, actually they don’t make you a better person… you do that yourself because they inspire you. A soulmate is someone who you carry with you forever. It’s the one person who knew you, and accepted you, and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. And no matter what happens..you’ll always love them.’ - unknown”

“Shawn was a huge believer that the ‘soulmates’ situation’ was the most stupid thing on the planet, specially since it was such a rare thing to find someone with the same mark as you. He would do anything he could to prevent the so called 'destiny’ from happening, but could he?”

hi, here i am with another chapter and i hope you like it, and please give me some feedback.

*masterpost*

*Word Count: 3.5K+.

*Warnings: cursing and I guess that's it!

*Posted: April 30th, 2020.

-*-

The whole unofficial detention thing with Shawn wasn’t that bad as I thought it was going to be. Okay, maybe the first two days were pretty awkward, but as the week moved forward we actually were able to talk normally and even have some fun in the middle of a bunch of books. I was starting to feel as if things were slowly going back to normal and I was actually pretty pleased by that. It’s not like the old times where we’re inseparable, but it was something, and I actually missed that a lot and it felt good to have, at least some part of it back. He still had his whole bad boy exterior and was the same heartbreaker, but he always played the cold hearted person anyway, so this was his ‘normal’ to people who didn’t know him for real. Which was not my case. I still had his jacket on my room, waiting for the day he would come upstairs or remind me to give it back to him.

The library thing was over and I was afraid things with him would change since we weren’t forced to be on the same room every night for at least two hours. Even though I was pissed for having to do that, it was still nice to spend some time with him. Mel was so sure things were normal again and that we’re going to get married or something, and people say I’m the hopeless romantic. But I won’t lie that when I unlocked my phone on my way to my class in the morning and saw a text from him saying that he wanted to talk to me after my last class today, my body didn’t tingle. Oh well, he’s going to make me go mad someday.

Today was being a pretty boring day and classes were actually not even catching my attention. I just felt a little bit lightheaded, and when Tyler sat beside me on my last class it was a bit harder to concentrate. To be honest, who said economics was important? Well, maybe a few people, but right now, I couldn’t care less. It got worse when I felt his eyes burning holes on my face, making me fake interest on the teacher even more, writing down random stuff on my notebook. But I simply couldn’t pretend I didn’t felt his fingers brushing my forearm lightly, so I just sighed softly, turning my head on his direction to see if it was a mistake or something like that. But Tyler actually grinned at me and whisper a quick ‘need to talk to you later’ to which I just nodded and got back to look at the teacher.

If I couldn’t concentrate before, now I was a lost case.

I had already pictured at least a thousand different reasons to why he would want to talk to me. Did I do something stupid? Does he need help with this subject? Does he want Mel’s number? Well, I hope not, that would crush my heart and she was pretty serious with Mike since the party. Okay, maybe Shawn was right when he said I get sort of attached. As the possible scenarios played on my head, nothing prepared me to the class being dismissed and everybody leaving. So I got up and started to get my things ready to go meet Shawn outside the building. I was so engrossed with the possibilities of what Tyler would want with me that I almost forgot that for me to find out, I was supposed to stay and talk to him. I just noticed that when I was almost out of the building and I felt someone holding my arm, which made me turn almost instantaneously and met his confused frown.

“Oh, hi, Tyler, I’m sorry, forgot you wanted to ask me something”

“Oh, it’s okay, you’re not busy or late for something, right?” he asked with a breathtaking smile playing on his lips.

I turned around to see if Shawn’s jeep was parked outside or if he was there already, but I didn’t see anything, so I just turned back to Tyler.

“No, not really, just waiting for a friend”

“Oh, great... so I just wanted to ask you, actually I was meant to ask this earlier this week but... well, we don’t have many classes i common so...”

“Ask me what?”

“I saw you leaving the library late this week a few times”

“Oh, yeah, some sort of punishment or whatever”

“In college?”

“Yeah, I guess”

“Damn, you and Shawn must have done something really bad to end up in detention”

“Me and...? Oh... no! We didn’t do anything wrong together, he was already doing that when I was told to do the same, for totally different reasons”

“Ooh, that makes more sense, even though I never pictured you to be the one to get in trouble, Y/N” he said with a light chuckle and I just shrugged.

“I guess you’ll never know, right?”

“Yeah, like you and Shawn, everyone’s wondering what’s happening”

“Me and Shawn?!”

“Well, everyone knows you two know each other for very long and stuff, but you two seemed pretty cozy at Brian’s party and the library dates or whatever”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I saw him dropping you off at your dorm room a few times recently, you went upstairs with him and you were wearing his jacket... not to seem weird, I haven’t been following you, it’s just I have a friend that lives on your dorm and I happened to see you two a few times”

“Oh...”

“So... Is there something serious going on or you two just... I don’t know, friends, I guess...?” he asked and mumbled a low “if he’s even able to do that”

“Shawn have always been an amazing friend and we’re...”

“Hey, honey” the guy we’re just taking about said from behind me, making me turn around to face him and I felt my face heating up “oh, hey, dude”

“Shawn” Tyler said nodding his head to him as Shawn grabbed my backpack from me and swung it over his shoulder.

“Hi” I said quietly, watching them both closely and I swear I was completely lost.

Shawn smiles softly at me and I did the same in return.

“Hi, you ready to go? Oh... I didn’t interrupt anything, right?”

“Actually...”

“No, hm, yeah, we can go” I said cutting Tyler off and I could feel his gaze on me.

“Great, let’s go, honey, nice to see ya, dude” Shawn said with a cocky grin on his lips as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and started walking me to his car.

“Bye, Tyler” I said turning my face to wave at him as he did the same with a frown on his face.

“So, I need to ask you...”

“Hey, not cool, Shawn” I said hugging my books tighter to my chest as soon as we were far enough from the building so Tyler couldn’t hear us.

“What?” he feigned a innocence that didn’t match his personality and his boyish grin.

“You know what I’m talking about, that little show over there, I know you don’t like the dude, but I do and I was actually talking to him”

“First, it was about me, so I deserved to know and second, he’s just trying to get in your pants”

“Maybe I want him to” I murmured crossing my arms as I sat on the passenger seat on his car and he just looked at me crossing his arms before he closed the door that he sweetly opened for me.

“Y/N, we both know that’s not the wisest idea when it comes to a guy like him”

“You’re not my father to tell me what to do”

“I know that-“ he said closing his door and entering on his side “-but that doesn’t mean I don’t know you and that I can’t give you advice”

“Fair enough... and hey... did you listen to it?”

“A bit, yeah, the last part, I was actually looking for you when I heard my name”

“Well, isn’t it crazy? He thinks we’re together! I need to tell him we’re not!”

“Why? I think that’s brilliant”

“Are you insane?! I kind of want to kiss the dude, him thinking I’m with you doesn’t help me!”

“Actually, it does, and you should thank me for stopping you from saying we’re not” he said starting the engine and pulling off.

“You lost your last brain cel?”

“Hey, not cool”

“How does that help me?”

“Well, he actually has been paying more attention to you to find out if we’re together, second of all, he actually came to talk to you about something non school related and he might want to prove to you that he’s better than me”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“That’s Tyler, the guy hates me”

“Why?”

“I’m just better than him”

“Shawn...”

“I’m not saying this to be cocky or whatever, it’s the truth, but please tell me all I said didn’t make any sense”

“Well, I guess I lost my last brain cel”

“Why?”

“Cause you might be right” I said and he laughed.

“I’m hurt but at the same time a bit happy... is that possible?”

“I guess, if you didn’t have an ego the size of this car it wouldn’t have hurt you so...”

“Fuck you” he said and I giggled, making him smile.

“What did you want to ask me?”

“To help on a project”

“Oh no... which one?”

“Mr. Blanchet’s class”

“No way, I already did mine and it sucked”

“I know, but if you don’t help me I’ll fail”

“Have you tried studying before?”

“I can’t get what the man says!”

“Try harder!”

“Please, Y/N, pretty please, I could play your fake boyfriend in return, just help me out, I would even do all your work for the class you just left, please, baby?” he practically begged and I took a deep breath.

“I really don’t want to...”

“But you will?”

“Can we discuss what I would get in return a bit better and in more detail?”

“Yes! We can go back to my place and I will even order sushi for you, the guys aren’t there anyway”

“You’ll pay?”

“Of course” he said with pleading eyes.

God, he has to be desperate.

“Okay”

“Oh my God, thank you so much”

“I didn’t agree to it yet”

“But you agreed to listen, which is a start”

“You’re right”

“Thank you” he said grabbing my hand and placing a kiss on the back of it.

It was weird, but it felt good and I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up when he was clearly happy that I would be helping him.

-*-

“So... What exactly I’m gonna have in return for helping you with that damn project?” I said as I sat down on his huge white couch that was really comfy.

“Whatever you want, really”

“Desperate, aren’t we?”

“A bit, to be honest” he said chuckling and running his hand through his curls “but I remember how much you complained about it and I tried to start it, but I don’t even understand his subject”

“Well, I guess no one does”

“How did he even become a teacher?” he asked as he placed my backpack by the door and took off his boots.

“I have no ideia”

“Okay, first of all, I guess I promised you sushi”

“You did”

“But it’s like five now, so we could find something in the kitchen and then order”

“That’s okay” I agreed getting up to meet him on the counter of the kitchen.

“Great, I don’t know what we have”

“Probably nothing, I don’t even know how you guys survived”

“Mum comes here from time to time to cook something and freeze it, and we also go grocery shopping”

“So what do you have, smart pants?”

“This” he smiled triumphantly holding up a bag of chips.

“How are you even alive?!”

“Dunno” he said going through his fridge “what do you want to drink?”

“Nothing”

“Really?”

“Yeah”

“Fine, I was thinking, besides playing your fake boyfriend or whatever, that I can do your works from your economy class, and you can suggest something”

“I’ll think of something as we go”

“So you’re up?”

“Yeah, whatever, how would you be my fake boyfriend again?”

“Well... we could hangout around campus and do couple-ish things?”

“Like...?”

“Maybe we could work on my project on places people could see us, I could hold your hand or whatever, people already think we’re together anyway”

“But what about your hookups?”

“I guess they would have to stop for a while...? Like, this wouldn’t last that long, it’s just until you get his attention, right?”

“Are we in high school again? Detention and trying to make the boy jealous by being all over another?”

“I just suggested, you seemed interested”

“That’s fair”

“Are you in or not?”

“I’m not kissing you, by the way”

“What?! What kind of couple we’d be?”

“There are couples who don’t kiss, dummy”

“I know that, but I guess everyone saw me kissing someone and you dated a guy before and kissed him in public!”

“Not kissing you”

“Fine, I guess we’d have to work this out somehow”

“You said yourself that people already think we’re together and we never kissed-“ I started and he stared at me with hooded eyes “-in public, we were teenagers and it was a game!”

“But we kissed”

“Shawn, I was fifteen!”

“We still kissed”

“Whatever” I said feeling my face heating up and he chuckled.

“You’re cute, but okay, we can work this out” he said like it was the most obvious thing on the planet and my heart almost stopped.

“Fine”

“Pick your order, I’m going to change into some sweats” he said handing me his phone unlocked and climbed up the stairs.

As I was going through the options on the menu he received a text from Melissa, which was weird, but since I didn’t want to be nosy, I didn’t want to open it and I didn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself from reading the beginning of the text which was something like ‘did you tell her? dude, she deserves to know’. And I swear I never wanted more to open their chat and see what the whole conversation was about, but I stopped myself before I could go through his messages, cause that was obviously wrong. But I can’t deny I was extremely curious to why my roommate and former maybe still best friend are talking about, and else, since when they’re that close?!

“Hey, were you able to decide it yet?”

“Mmhm” I mumbled looking up from his phone to be met with a very good looking Shawn.

He was hearing some sweatpants and a thin white T-shirt, that was hanging a little tighter than usual on his trained torso. And he’s your friend and you shouldn’t be staring at him, so before he could notice, I looked down at his phone.

“Your usual?”

“Yeah, well, I can’t make any mistakes if I order my favorite”

“True” he said grabbing his phone and ordering “where do you want to sit?”

“The living room is fine, can I take a look at the subject first? Just so I could remember a bit of it?”

“Yeah, I got my textbook and a few notes I took”

“Great” I said going to the living room and sitting on the floor by his coffee table.

“What do I do?”

“Just wait a second, I just need to situate myself”

“Sure” he said laying down on the couch and starting to scroll through his phone as I looked through his notes.

I completely lost track of time as I was reading through his notes and the textbook of the subject, I only noticed it took me a while to understand everything when he got up to grab our dinner, I must have been reading for at least an hour. He got back inside and said he was just going to grab stuff so we could eat on the living room. So I cleared the coffee table for us to be able to eat in peace and not ruin any book. He sat down beside me with the containers and turned on the TV on a random show. We were eating and chatting as the show played on the background when Brian finally arrived, being the noisy person he is, he almost gave a heart attack.

“Hey, du- hey, Y/N! What are you doing here? How are you?” he asked throwing his stuff on the couch “you ordered sushi!”

“Shawn did, actually, and hi, Bri, I’m helping him with an assignment” I corrected him as Shawn just waved at him from beside me.

“You’re too good” he said giggling “I’m going to take a shower, talk to you guys later”

“Okay”

I turned back to Shawn as I heard Brian climbing up the stairs and offered to explain the main parts of the subject and get what he wanted to do with his project. He just agreed and started listening as I was explaining, and we were both taking the stuff to the kitchen to get rid of the garbage and get everything in place at the same time. He was patiently listening as I kept on talking, interrupting me every once in a while to ask me a few things that still weren’t clear to him. Once everything was ready we got back to the living room and I sat down on the couch, getting rid of my shoes. Shawn placed his head on my lap as he started to say what were the directions for his paper and what the teacher expected.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him to get up, and he wasn’t bothering me by laying on my lap, so I just let it go. He kept on explaining and I zoned out a bit, ignoring his words, focusing only on his voice and his curls that were pretty inviting, and I didn’t even noticed I started playing with them till he stopped talking to look up at me. I gave him a sheepish and he just kept on talking, so I forced myself to pay attention to the words that were actually leaving his mouth and they made sense. So we kept on discussing a bit until I was too tired to think and I just let my head fall back on the cushions.

“Okay, time to get you home” he said getting up and offering me his hand.

“But we didn’t decide anything”

“I know, but I got the subject and what I should come up with for our next meeting, that could be tomorrow on a lunch date” he said pulling me to my feet.

“Okay” I agreed defeated, rubbing my eyes to keep myself awake.

“I’ll just grab my wallet and my shoes upstairs, it’ll take a second” he warned me as I pulled my sneakers on.

Before I could reply he went upstairs. As Shawn was going through his room, Brian leaned on his doorframe with a smirk on his lips.

“She still here?”

“Yeah, I’m taking her home now, where are the other guys?”

“Practice and girlfriend’s place”

“Oh, okay” Shawn said as he put on the first pair of shoes he found and grabbed his wallet.

“So... you two?”

“What about us?”

“Weren’t you trying to keep her away or something?”

“Yeah, that was a bad idea”

“So you’re dating?”

“No, she’s helping me with a project and I’m helping her with Tyler”

“What?! Are you insane?! He’s the biggest idiot!”

“I know” Shawn sighed “but I’ll just... be around, I guess”

“Did you tell her?”

“Tell her what?!”

“How you feel about her”

“And how do I feel?”

“You fell for her and you don’t want to admit it”

“I didn’t”

“Shawn... I saw you two downstairs, you’re looking at her like she was an angel, she was playing with your hair and you two were just like a couple, when are you going to believe you two are fucking soulmates?”

“Brian... dude, that doesn’t even exist, so what? We have the same birthmark”

“The exact same!”

“This means nothing”

“Stop lying to yourself and embrace it, that’s rare and you got lucky!”

“You are way too close to Melissa to believe in this bullshit”

“You are way too far up your ass to not believe”

“I gotta go, need to take her home” Shawn said getting up and going downstairs to meet her by the door.

“Hi” I said looking up from my phone “what?”

“You just look tired”

“I am, but I’ll sleep as soon as I get home”

“Sorry for keeping you up”

“It’s okay, you bought me sushi”

“Then let’s get you home so you can rest, honey” Shawn said offering me his hand and I took it without even thinking about it.

“Tell Brian I said bye”

“I will” Shawn said closing the door behind us.

Little did I know the red haired boy was just at the top of the stairs watching the little interaction with a smile plastered on his face.

-*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

let me know if you guys would like to be on a taglist for this series or anything else

and i’m sorry if i forgot anyone, i don't know if the links are actually working, so please send me an ask or just comment down bellow!

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akaiaowl · 5 years ago

Text

Happy Stranger Things Day!!

It’s been 4 years since Stranger Things was first premiered on Netflix! (already?) This series is very close to my heart, since it managed to inspire me after 3 long years of writer’s block. To commemorate that, I’ll be posting the epilogue to my first fanfic on AO3: Reality in Motion (also known as RiM by some in the ST fandom). Here goes the summary and first chapter:

Reality in Motion

Modern College AU.

It hurt her to listen to the ruthless voice in her head, but, as much as she hated to admit it, El knew it was probably right. It had happened countless times before. Well, actually two. Two times in which El found herself feeling funny and giddy and hopeful about someone, only to be disappointed. It always ended that way. She was destined to be alone and it was probably for the best.

AKA: Socially awkward Jane Ives' first semester in college. Also AKA: Not your typical nice-boy-meets-drunk-girl-at-a-party Mileven fic (because of all the angst and slowwwww burn, be warned).

Chapter 1: Changes

Wednesday 29th, November 2017

If there was something El Ives put her mind to, she was sure to accomplish it. Always.

Well, most of the times.

As a matter of fact, today was one of the few rare exceptions to that rule. This, since Will Byers, El’s best friend, had managed to convince the otherwise socially awkward El to finally come with him that weekend to some party at a friend’s house.

They were both currently seating on the beige colored carpet of her dorm room, supposedly trying to be productive by getting their History 102 assignment done before the due date.

“Pleeease El! I’m about to beg you, it’s almost Christmas break and, for once, I’d like for you to come meet my friends and not stay locked up here again like a loser”, Will had been pouting at his friend for over two hours.

“Hey, I happen to like being a loser”, said El feigning indignation and scowling at her skinny best friend.

Will managed to hold back his smile at his oldest friend’s antics and maintained a serious expression for the sake of getting his point across. They’d been friends since the age of twelve and both knew just how determined the other could be. Holding each other’s stares defiantly in a silent challenge, neither of them wanted to give in.

As she stubbornly stared into Will’s lively brown eyes, El suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. She had been having a few of those for a while now, especially whenever she thought back on their high school days on Hawkins High School. Actually, the biggest irony was thinking about how much she had looked forward to graduating and moving as far away as humanly possible from that hell hole she called hometown. Whereas, now, she couldn’t help feeling strangely homesick. As a matter of fact, lately, El was often ambushed by random flashbacks from her teenage years and usually found herself wishing she could somehow go back and do it all better.

She regretted everything, actually, except for her friendship with Will.

Their friendship was yet another reason El kept thinking back in nostalgia to her high school days: even though Will and her had managed to get accepted into their dream college together and even lived in neighboring dorm buildings, she felt him more distant than ever before. Worse than that, El was painfully aware that she was the reason of the increasing (figurative) distance in their friendship and she loathed herself for it. Now, more than ever, she hated herself for her apathetic and awkward personality. Why couldn’t she be a normal eighteen year old? Why couldn’t she just stop feeling so nervous around other people? Because of this she was finally managing to drive her best friend away, her partner in crime, after being the closest of friends for over half a decade.

For most of their first semester at college she had declined Will’s enthusiastic invitations to parties and any social events, preferring to skip them in favor of spending her afternoons in the solitude of her room either reading ahead or watching some movie or TV show. It was just easier that way, it seemed. El had never really been a social butterfly and she knew how much Will loved meeting and bonding with new people. So, she just figured that she could give him some space by making herself scarce.

However (and she’d never admit it out loud), as Will started spending less and less time with her and his invitations became rare occurrences, El began feeling terribly lonely (which was weird). She usually cherished her alone time, often glad she wasn’t out there fake smiling and making small talk, getting emotionally drained after overthinking and worrying over every tiny detail of her social interactions. Nonetheless, now, it just felt like a very different kind of loneliness.

El felt lonely in a bad way, a way she hadn’t felt for quite a long time: the kind of lonely she used to feel before meeting Joyce Byers and befriending her son, Will.

Finally, after glaring at Will some more, El lowered her gaze in defeat. Mostly because she missed spending more time with him, and also because she was a bit curious about going to a college party.

“Ok. Fine, I’ll go. BUT I’ll only stay until a reasonable hour and you better not be dragging me up there so I can be your designated driver”, answered El with an annoyed huff, hurling one of her fluffy pillows on Will’s general direction and feeling quite annoyed (mostly at her pathetic, abnormal self).

Her friend easily managed to catch the pillow midair and offered El a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She knew he was worried about her spending so much time by herself – the fact that she had no roommate made it easier for her to just hide away for hours on end without any excuse.

“I’m only doing this for your own good El, you know I look out for you and it’s about time you start having a normal college experience and, you know, getting to know people. After all, the semester is almost over”.

--….--…--…---

Friday 1st, December 2017

El bit her lip as she stared at her reflection on the mirror critically. Was her top too revealing? Was her midsection looking gross and bloated? Should she put any make up on? Was her hair ok? Were jeans and sneakers too casual for the party?

Man, I badly needed a School of Life 101 crash course, El thought with a groan.

It was always on times like this that El really wished she had a roommate or a best friend who could actually give advice on these kinds of things. It was also on times like these that El regretted not learning about this stuff back on high school. Finally, after examining her reflection some more, she decided to change her sneakers in favor of her black leather boots and apply some lipstick to her dry lips.

Feeling quite nervous, she turned her phone screen on and was surprised to see several messages from Will.

8:02 pm U excited yet for your first college party?

8:03 pm Totally getting drunk as skunks 2nite.

8:46 pm Waiting for the guys, we’re coming to pick u up

9:29 pm On our way, expect a call in 15

9:44 pm Almost there

9:59 pm Ok, let’s go

*3 missed calls from MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD*

10:03 pm Pick up the phone

10:11 pm We’re waiting downstairs

10:27 pm What the hell u doing? We’ve been here for ages

El was surprised to find out how long she had taken to get ready, her nervousness was really not helping. As quickly as possible, she grabbed her tiny purse and keys and made her way out. At that very moment, her phone screen lit up and the contact name Will had programmed for himself popped up.

*incoming call from MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD*

Smiling, El answered.

“I’m sorry, I completely lost track of time, that’s all. I’m almost there”, she said breathlessly while making her way down the flight of stairs.

“No problem El, just making sure you were still up for it”, answered Will sympathetically.

“Wait. So did I actually have an option?” replied El only half joking.

She really was terribly nervous, like she always was whenever she had to face a new social situation.

Will laughed at her lame attempt at making a joke and was silent for a bit, maybe trying to empathize with his best friend’s nervousness.

El could hear Will’s friends talking loudly on the background:

“We need to hurry if we want to get wasted before the night ends, that’s kind of the point of tonight”, a loud male voice whined pathetically.

“Hey, I’m actually enjoying watching this show”, another male voice answered in fake annoyance.

“Booooooring”, someone else interjected.

“You’re too lame Wheeler”, the first voice teased.

The conversation on the background grew faint as El realized Will must have walked away from his friends to talk to her privately.

“Everything will be fine and you’ll have fun, you’ll see. If you feel uncomfortable or something you have us”, finally whispered Will before hanging up.

El had really tried to avoid meeting Will’s friends for a while now, feeling resentment and jealousy towards them because her best friend spent most of his time with them now and talked all the time about how fun and loyal they were.

It actually made sense that they spent time together since they were all taking science related careers and had most of their classes together – Will was an engineer major, like Lucas, while Dustin and Mike were physics majors.

It was silly, she knew.

Calm down El, it’s going to be ok, Will’s friends are probably as nice as him.

Finally, El got to her building’s common area. She saw four guys sprawled comfortably all over the beige couches, two of them were fighting over the remote and the other two were trying to watch whatever show was on TV.

They didn’t notice her presence until she started timidly approaching Will, who was gazing at the screen with mild interest. He was the first one of the group to notice her and his face was instantly filled with a broad smile.

“You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, startling everyone.

“Guys, this is El”, Will said loudly. Then, pointing at each of the guys next to him, he introduced them, “These are Lucas, Dustin and Mike”.

“Thanks for waiting”, El managed to smile at them without making eye contact. She hoped they didn’t notice her nervousness.

“No problem”, said the smallest one of them, Dustin, “honestly, we were all dying to finally meet you”.

“Yeah, we had a bet going on about Will’s friend being imaginary”, laughed Lucas.

Upon hearing that last comment, El snorted while trying to contain a laugh and turned to look at Will with amusement. Her friend merely shrugged.

“See how you make me look bad El?”

“Oh, it was only for the sake of making the bet more interesting”, answered El with a laugh, “it would have been no fun without the mystery, now would it?”

The guys smiled, amused, and the air significantly relaxed. She felt a tiny bit more comfortable, and the voice in her head repeating her own doubts and fears in a loop grew quiet for the first time that night.

“So, who won the bet?” asked Will, looking at his friends.

“Me”, said the tallest boy, Mike, smiling.

He was the only one who hadn’t spoken up yet, but she recognized his voice from her phone call with Will – he was the one who claimed to be enjoying the TV show while they waited for her to arrive.

Overcome by curiosity, El risked a glance up at him and was surprised to find him already looking at her, matching her interest. They made eye contact.

“So thank you for being real, I guess”, he said smiling kindly at her.

She quickly averted her gaze, not knowing what to do or how to respond, and tried to keep her upcoming blush from actually showing on her face. It wasn’t even a compliment, why was she reacting like this?

Social awkwardness truly sucked.

There was a short moment of silence, which was (thankfully) quickly broken by Lucas.

“Ok, let’s get going”, said Lucas enthusiastically as he strode to the nearest exit.

--….--…--…---

Saturday 2nd, December 2017

She’d drank too much, too soon.

Of course, the fact that Will kept refilling her red solo cup with mysterious mixes of liquor didn’t help at all. But she wasn’t complaining at all. All things considered, El found the whole experience quite interesting. Actually, she was pleased to realize that the alcohol numbed that voice that constantly reminded her of all her insecurities and flaws. She found this quite liberating.

She felt like she could do anything. Be anyone she wanted.

Will’s friends had left them to join a game of beer pong not so long ago, which had also helped El feel a whole lot more relaxed. Up until then, she had been too scared of acting like a weirdo around the guys and so she had barely talked.

For the first time in a long time, no worries or guilt lurked El’s mind.

As time went by, the music surrounding her stopped being too loud and the vibration of the bass on the floor actually made her lively in a way she had scarcely felt before. Before she knew it, her foot was tapping the floor to the beat of the unknown song. She tried to pay attention to whatever Will was saying (maybe a funny story about someone in one of his classes? What was that about a teacher?), but words kept jumbling around making it hard for her to understand anything at all.

My thought process is screwed up, El thought.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that that was the funniest, wittiest thing she had ever come up with, so she giggled uncontrollably.

Will smiled affectionately at the giggling girl beside him. He had really tried to be a good friend that night, staying with her the whole time – probably suspecting that if she got to feel too awkward, she’d escape the party.

“I loooooove you so much Willy Will”, said El hugging her friend, “do you know that?”

El’s ears suddenly caught onto a tune, alerting her of something.

Something quite urgent.

Do you recall, not long ago We would walk on the sidewalk? Innocent, remember? All we did was care for each other

“BYERS!!!! COME ON!” she exclaimed giddily, standing up clumsily and dragging her skinny best friend to the middle of the room, “IT’S OUR JAM!”

But the night was warm We were bold and young All around, the wind blows We would only hold on to let go

Will could only smile at her random behavior. He had never been a good dancer and he had not drank nearly as much as El had, so he just sort of awkwardly tried shuffling his feet and swaying his body to the catchy song.

“BLOW A KISS FIRE A GUN, WHEN YOU NEED SOMEONE TO LEAN ON”, El was screaming while swaying her hips wildly, her eyes were closed, “BLOW A KISS FIRE A GUN, ALL WE NEED IS SMEBODY TO LEAN ON”.

Will tried his hardest to keep up with El’s moves, but she was like a woman possessed, jumping around and twirling in every direction. It seemed that all those months of pent up energy – probably gathered after all those afternoons of voluntary isolation – were finally finding an outlet. After a couple of songs and happy to see his friend finally having fun, Will decided his job there was done.

“El. El! EL!!” he screamed to get her attention.

She faced him, smiling wildly. Her face shiny with sweat from the exertion and the warmth in the room. Will couldn’t help mirroring her grin.

“I just can’t keep up with you!” he said teasing her, “I’m gonna go find the guys”.

El stuck out her tongue at him and waved goodbye.

“YOU’RE SUCH A KID ELEVEN!” Will exclaimed as he headed to the other room, where he last saw his friends heading to.

--….--…--…---

Her feet were killing her.

El made her way to the nearest sitting space she could find, a couch on the left side of the room. She sat down for a minute in the crowded couch, slowly trying to move her toes so she didn’t feel them cramping anymore. She was currently sandwiched uncomfortably between a sleeping guy and a couple making out. She tried to ignore the snores and the sounds the couple were making.

She hadn’t seen Will or any of his friends for at least a couple of hours and she was not about to go wandering off looking for them. Will was probably drunk by now, maybe talking to the cute guy from their History 102 class that he always rambled on about. El smiled fondly, remembering how much of a hopeless romantic her best friend was.

She tried laying back on the couch and closing her tired eyes, but everything was too hot and her feet hurt too much. It was way too uncomfortable.

El glanced hopefully at the glass doors that led into the balcony. With any luck, there wouldn’t be anyone out there smoking.

She hated the smell of tobacco. It reminded her of him.

El shut her eyes tightly, desperately trying to chase away the memories that begged to be replayed on her mind, and massaged her throbbing temples. She tried to take a deep, calming breath and relax somehow, but the air felt too moist and everything smelled like alcohol and sweat. Suddenly, she was too aware of the extremely loud music and the annoying presence of the people around her. And there were too many people. Too many unfamiliar faces. Frustrated, El opened her eyes slowly, glancing around at the room full of strangers.

Dejection filled her thoroughly, tonight had been great so far and she just happened to ruin it by opening a door she had closed more than five years ago. She’d promised it would never haunt her, never hurt her again. But it was always there, lurking. It was always him, never allowing her to escape his choking grip.

Without even thinking about it, she had started walking on the opposite direction of the balcony, towards the main door of the house. As she stepped outside of the house, she couldn’t help noticing the wide brown door was ajar. El moved forward taking slow, deliberate steps, knowing her balance was far from being the most stable.

She glanced around quickly.

Sighing in relief at the fact that she had apparently managed to escape the smokers, El leaned on the nearest wall and stared off into the darkened streets and houses. Her body still felt light, but most the energy she had at the beginning of the night had ebbed away by now, leaving her exhausted. Soon enough, she noticed that the volume of the music and the noise from the house was once again bearable for her. However, without the loud (loud! loud!) music infecting her thoughts, she was left at the mercy of the familiar cold voice in her head: it was her own voice, but ruthless and emotionless, and it never tired of always repeating everything she didn’t want to hear.

She wondered what time it was, she was too lazy to get her phone out and check the time. Her fuzzy brain was making everything a lot harder.

“You ok?” a familiar voiced questioned.

El found herself staring up into the freckle-covered face of one of Will’s friends.

“Just tired and hot”, she replied, “it’s like a freaking oven in there”.

He just chuckled.

“Why are you out here?” she suddenly asked.

“Oh, just getting some air to clear my head”, the tall guy answered shrugging, “I am the lucky soul who gets to be the designated driver for tonight”.

El smiled in amusement.

His name is Mike, El suddenly remembered, her scattered, hazy thoughts becoming a tiny bit clearer.

“You know, I was convinced the only reason Will invited me here was so I’d have the honor of being the DD”.

They remained in a comfortable silence for a while, both staring off and busy with their own thoughts.

“Will is worried about you”, Mike stated after a while.

“I know”, El answered sadly, “it’s just hard for me, you know?”

Mike furrowed his brow in confusion.

“No matter how hard I try, it’s hard for me to feel comfortable or relaxed or even normal around new people or in new places”, she explained almost in a whisper.

“It’s ok to feel that way”, he said like it was the most natural thing in the world, his gaze showing empathy.

El snorted, fully aware that no, it was not okay to be such an introverted freak. She was not stupid. She knew it was a limitation, something that held her back from experiences and people and things she really wanted. She was all too aware that it was what isolated her from everyone and ultimately stood like a solid barrier, shielding her even from the ones she deeply cared about.

“I felt very lonely coming here at first”, Mike confessed smiling crookedly in her direction, “I consider myself a lucky guy, having Dustin as a roommate and meeting Lucas and Will on my first week here”.

“Will is an amazing friend”, El answered smiling, “and all of you seem like pretty cool guys”, she added honestly.

Mike blushed a bit and lowered his gaze, focusing on his wristwatch.

Who even owns a wristwatch these days?, wondered El with amusement as she glanced at him with the corner of her eye.

“Hey, it’s barely 1 am, how do you feel about going for a drive and coming back to pick up our friends’ drunken asses?” suddenly asked Mike.

Full story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12840366/chapters/29318523

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #mileven #mileven fanfiction #mileven fanfic #stranger things angst #stranger things day #mike wheeler #mike and eleven #eleven #jane hopper #el hopper #el and mike #eleven and mike #mileven fluff #st #fanfiction

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maren-as-an-adult · 4 years ago

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The 2020 Experience, Part 2

When I flew back to New York a few days later (yes, I braved the airports and a plane) I could not stop crying. What should have been a loving and heartfelt reunion between myself and Graham turned into an awkward situation for him, with me bent double in the front seat of his car sobbing inconsolably.

And suddenly I had to adjust back to life more or less on my own. I couldn’t have friends come over, my family who lived in NYC were too far for me to get to them without public transit, and Graham’s mother was immunocompromised so we couldn’t spend much time together. I was back to sitting at my computer, taking online surveys for the promise of money and sending out application after application. Jena and Julia, my other two roommates, were still not back, so it was just me and Polina.

Things started to get a little better though. I had applied for Medicaid so I had some health coverage again. I scheduled an appointment with my new doctor, I started talking to a therapist again in August, and I stopped budgeting for birth control and got it for free. The after school program was up and running again, this time remotely (only one of my schools was able to host their program though, so my work hours were still cut). I looked forward to every other weekend, where Graham would drive out and pick me up to spend a few nights at his place. Jena came back and announced she was moving out, and our new roommate Michelle moved in. Michelle and I had a lot in common, and I found it easy to talk to and connect with her.

I even got out to see my family. I braved the subway to see my family up in Astoria, and Polina told me about the ferries I could take that brought me to my family on the Upper East Side.

One day in late September, however, I woke up with abdominal pain. It was pretty mild at first, but it kept getting worse. As someone who has periods, I assumed it was just week-early cramps brought on by stress combined with a poor diet that didn’t include much fiber. I tried to assuage the feeling by eating an apple, but after a quick trip to the bathroom it made a reappearance coming back up the way it went down. I decided to do what most people do (and what doctors hate) and look up my symptoms online to try and self-diagnose. The two big contenders for what I was suffering from were IBS or an ulcer. I texted Graham and told him what was up, and he asked what I was going to do. My current plan was to try and wait it out, and if things still felt bad in the morning, I would go to the ER.

If it wasn’t for Graham’s suggestion that I go to an urgent care center (which I had completely forgot existed at this point in time) I may have died.

At 7:12pm I grabbed my bag and walked three blocks to the urgent care center closest to my apartment. Unfortunately, they were no longer taking walk-ins for the day, but told me that another urgent care center was open until 8 and would take walk-ins.

It was 17 blocks away.

I walked 17 blocks with severe abdominal pain to this urgent care center just to be seen and tell a health professional I wasn’t feeling well. I knew there wouldn’t be much they could do, but maybe they could give me a better idea of what was wrong with me. I called Graham and gave him the address of the urgent care center, asking that he come out to be with me. Whatever was happening to me, I did not want to go through it alone.

I made it to the urgent care center fifteen minutes before they closed. I was taken to an observation room where a brusque young Russian woman took down my vitals and information as we waited for the RN to come see me. When he finally did come in and I started telling him what was wrong, I barely finished explaining what happened after I ate and failed to keep down the apple that he interrupted me saying, “You need to go to the ER immediately, because what you described sounds like you have a GI bleed. You’ll need an endoscopy, where they take a camera on a long, thin tube and feed it down in through your stomach and into your intestines to see if you’re bleeding internally.”

It was getting late, I was alone, and I was TERRIFIED.

I was told where the nearest ERs were, was given a printed referral, and then dismissed for the evening. All I could do was wait for Graham and tell him what was going on... and then call my mother and tell her.

I love my mom. I’ll likely never not love my mom for the rest of my life. But sometimes she takes a bad situation and makes me feel even worse. When I told her I had called Graham to come get me, she pointedly asked why I didn’t call any of my family who lived closer than Graham. Well, of my family who live in the greater metropolitan area of New York City, we have:

- My Aunt Barbara and Uncle Danny, currently NOT in NYC and instead staying out in Milford, PA

- My Uncle Brian, Aunt Corinne, and cousin Nikki up in Astoria. My aunt cannot drive and gets panicked easily, my cousin only has her learner’s permit, and my uncle (though I love him) would not be the most comforting presence to me at the moment, being VERY pro-Trump Republican and a FIRM anti-masker

- My Uncle Mike, Aunt Gloria, and cousins Maura (and her husband Andrew), Brendan, and Kevin. Maura, at this point in time, was nine months pregnant and due to give birth any minute, and I was not going to be responsible for pulling my aunt or uncle away from the birth of their first grandchild

With this information presented to my mother, she did concede that calling Graham had not been a terrible idea. Continuing to fret, however, she said I should at least have called them to let them know what was happening. She took it upon herself to do that, and additionally call my father and tell him (dad was on the road at that point and so missed my initial call of “Hey, jsyk, I’m going to the ER, wish me luck!”). Graham pulled up, I ended my mom’s call telling her I’d keep her posted, and headed off to the unknown.

As we were driving to the closest ER, my dad called. Thankfully, he gave advice that calmed me down. He listened to my symptoms, told me it was likely an ulcer, and told me what would happen when I went in: I’d be admitted to the ER, they’d take my vitals, I’d explain my symptoms over and over and over to multiple people, they’d probably admit me overnight, knock me out and do an endoscopy, and in the morning I’d be sent home with a prescription to help with the ulcer. I felt better.

Graham and I made it to the ER at about 8:45pm. I was admitted immediately, my vitals were taken, I was given a cup to pee in, an IV was placed in my arm, my blood was taken, and I told my story to two different doctors and a few different nurses. I went in for an ultrasound to rule out pregnancy, endometriosis, and ovarian cysts. I waited, with Graham by my side.

The doctor came back at about 11:30pm and told me my urinalysis and ultrasound came back unremarkable, but my bloodwork showed a high white blood cell count, which meant my body was fighting off an infection somewhere. This is absolutely something I did and did not want to hear in the middle of a global pandemic. On the one hand, go immune system! Keep me safe, you beautiful, hard-working bitch! On the other hand, what was it my body was fighting off?

The doctor said if I wanted to leave at that point, I could, because nothing obvious was found. “But,” she said, “I would strongly recommend we do a CT scan just to be safe.”

It was late, both Graham and I were tired, and my abdominal pain wasn’t awful to the point where I was bent double anymore. I could stand and walk around with only a slight discomfort. The thought of getting out of the ER, a frankly dangerous place to be in these COVID times, was deliciously appealing.

“What the hell, lets do the CT scan.”

I was given almost two liters of fluid to drink to prep for the scan. It didn’t taste bad, actually, kind of like a flat lemon La Croix that had been left in its aluminum can too long. At 12:30am I went in for the scan. Two hours later, Graham and I were still waiting for the results. At around 2:30am Graham turned to me and said, “Honestly, I’m ready to go. I won’t leave you here alone, but I’m exhausted and ready to get out of here.” I responded, “Honestly, I am too.”

At that moment, a doctor walked around the corner into our area and said, in a too cheery voice, “Hi there! You have appendicitis.”

I swear in that moment I could feel the cosmic force of the universe tremble with suppressed laughter at this finely crafted moment of ironic timing. My only response to the doctor and Graham was, “Well... I guess I’m staying here for the night?” Remember when I thought it was IBS? Couldn’t we go back to that?

I’ve mentioned before the idea of surgery scares me. I’d hoped I’d only have to experience anesthesia from getting my wisdom teeth removed. I fully expected to break down in hysterics then, but I guess I was just too tired and overwhelmed to react in such a big way. I called my mom and told her what was happening, and the first suggestion she made was for me to come home and heal in Chicago.

...mom, I love you, but getting on a plane immediately after major surgery in the MIDDLE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC FROM AN AIRBORNE VIRUS is frankly the DUMBEST IDEA EVER.

After realizing that would be a bad move, she suggested she come out to be with me while I heal. While an appealing process, it ultimately wouldn’t be of much use, because she’d have to quarantine for two weeks before seeing anyone at that point. Eventually, she offered to book a hotel room for me and Graham for a long, extended weekend to help me recover. It was extremely generous of her, and I’ll forever be grateful she did it.

I was hooked up to antibiotics to prep for surgery, and the attending surgeon explained the procedure to me. Everyone was so calm and sure of themselves that I felt okay, and the inevitable wave of panic was held off. At 4:30am, I was wheeled up to the operating room. Graham stayed by my side as long as he could and walked all the way to the doors of the OR hallway with me and the attending. I made sure he and my mom had each others’ phone numbers so he could give updates. I was wheeled through the doors, and met with my operating team.

The anesthesiologist and practicing surgeon assured me that they felt fine, well-rested, and at the top of their game, and I was able to relax some as I moved off of my gurney onto the operating table. Once I was on the table, clad only in a thin hospital gown and gripper socks, my body started to shake. Whether it was from the cold or the panic had finally set in I wasn’t sure, but I calmly told the doctors that I thought my fight or flight response was kicking in, and they might need to consider restraining my shaking limbs.

They did, and they also put a heated (and somewhat weighted) blanket over me which relaxed me so my limbs weren’t shaking so violently. An oxygen mask was placed on my face, sealing my nose and mouth into a thick plastic chamber. I tried to breathe deeply and evenly, forcing myself to think of pleasant thoughts and not spiral into a headspace of worst case scenarios. I think what helped most was actually an attending nurse reading out loud my patient chart for posterity and recording’s sake, and he said, “Patient is a twenty-seven year old female named Maureen Ford.”

The annoyance I felt at being misnamed (again as Maureen) cut through the second wave of panic buildup, and my only goal was to correct him. The oxygen mask muffled my voice, but I like to think if you were to listen to the audio recording of my surgery, you would hear, very faintly in the background, me indignantly stating, “It’s pronounced MAREN!”

My last thought before I went under was that I need to make sure that nurse was corrected.

When I woke up, I felt more comfortable than I had in a very long time. The only thing that kept me from being in a total state of comfortable bliss was the slowly incoming knowledge that my mouth was drier than the Sahara desert at noon in July. Despite this, and the residual effects of the anesthesia still in effect, I was pleased to find that not only could I clearly hear and understand the conversations happening around me, I could also coherently speak and communicate with people. I asked for water as soon as I could, and the nurse told me that they’d have to work me up to water. We’d start with a lemon swab in my mouth, followed by ice chips, and then I could get water. The attending surgeon came in to tell me the surgery went smoothly without complications, and I asked her if she could make sure whoever called me Maureen was corrected on my name pronunciation.

I really hope it wasn’t written off as a sleepy patient’s delirious request, because I was absolutely serious about it.

After eating some very powdery eggs and drinking an apple juice, I was discharged and told to get my medications, rest up, avoid lifting anything over 15 pounds, stay away from submerging my sutures in water, and to schedule a one week post-op follow up with my primary care provider and a two week post-op follow up with the attending surgeon.

Graham drove us back to Bay Ridge, and I gave him my keys to go grab some essentials from my apartment. I gave Michelle and Polina a heads up that he was coming up (and I had let them know what was happening before I went into surgery) and that I’d be gone recovering through the weekend and partway into the week. They both wished me a speedy recovery, Graham grabbed a few essentials for me, and we drove up the street to pick up my meds from Rite Aid.

For some reason, they had only filled two of the four prescriptions. One they didn’t fill because it was a controlled substance and the hospital hadn’t submitted the proper authorization for it, and the other prescription (one of two laxatives) I have no idea why it wasn’t filled. Eventually, I got both my pain medications and one of the laxatives, with the other laxative to be filled and picked up at a different Rite Aid, closer to Graham’s work.

Exhausted, sore, hungry, and (in my case) in desperate need of a shower, we made it back to Graham’s to spend one more day there before going off to the hotel my mom had booked us. Graham had been scheduled to work that day, but after calling into the office was told he should only come in if he thought it was absolutely necessary. He ended up catching a few hours of sleep before going in for the late shift at work. I managed to take a shower and fell asleep on his couch as his bed was too soft and sent my abdomen into absolute agony. I blinked in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waiting for Graham to come home with my last bit of medication. In that time, my dad called to check on me and ask how I felt, what I was prescribed, and what was expected of me. As we were talking Graham called, and I excused myself so I could answer the call. Nothing could have prepared me for what Graham was going to say to me.

“I was just hit by a truck.”

*click*

#part 2

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shipitrealgood · 5 years ago

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Rizumo Week 2020 Day 2: Apocalypse

WOO Rizumo Week is here and I’m only already a day behind!!! Have my offering anyways because I’m very proud of it!!!

@the-new-rizumo-week-blog

Their time ran out. Gehenna Gate was officially open.

The mid-morning sky is pitch black as Lucifer’s army clashes with Samael’s forces. Hardly anything can be heard over the din of war, the screams of the innocent fading one by one as countless lives are lost. Otherworldly beings pour through rips in space, ready and willing to join in the complete destruction of everything around them. It’s brutal, it’s chaotic, and above all else… it seems utterly hopeless.

Yet, two teenage girls dash quickly through the forests, heading further and further toward the heart of ruin. Despite being clad in school uniforms, the ease with which they battle off supernatural forces and the fluidity of their synchronization suggest intense training and experience.

Izumo Kamiki and Shiemi Moriyama fly through the trees, their faces grim and their hearts sharing one goal.

“We’re still going the right way, right?” Izumo shouts, not even pausing to look at her friend. Her twintails whip behind her as they race forward, narrowly avoiding tripping over hazardous roots and jagged rocks.

“Yes! Nee says he’s just a little farther!” Shiemi calls back. She’s clearly beginning to flag, but sheer determination pushes her to keep running, running, running through the exhaustion and burning pain—

—until a clawed hand grabs her leg and heaves her through the air, snatching the ground right out from under her. Her involuntary scream is cut short because, already, Mike and Uke are there, cutting off the offending arm and freeing her. Nee spawns a woollybush to cushion her fall, but before Shiemi can thank it, she catches sight of their surroundings.

“Nee! Barrier!”

Thick bramble bursts from its body and encompasses the surroundings just as a swarm of demons pounce forth. Shiemi and Izumo stand in the middle of a slowly hardening cocoon, watching as the desperate beings claw at the thorns that tighten around them. They snarl and gnash, their attention solely focused on the prey before them, even as their bodies rip and tear apart on the barrier.

Despite this, the inhuman howling only seems to grow louder. “Dammit, there’s more of them,” Izumo spits out, spinning around in all directions to try to ascertain the situation. “Mike! Uke! Where are you?!”

Nee places its arm on Shiemi’s leg, drawing its master’s attention toward the deep gashes found there. Shiemi stares at it thoughtfully, then up to her friend, then up to the cocoon surrounding them. She finally settles her gaze on the direction they’d been travelling.

“... Kamiki. You have to get to Rin.”

Izumo, who had been strategizing with Mike and Uke, freezes. She whips around to face Shiemi, utter bewilderment meeting a cool calm. “Wha— What are you saying?! You’re the one he needs right now! Both of them do!”

Shiemi shakes her head, gesturing to her leg. “I’m not going to make it there in time. And right now, I have the best shot of fending these demons off.” Izumo scoffs without malice, clearly intent on arguing, but Shiemi gestures around them. “Look! This is my element. They can’t beat me here.” Her eyes are set with that same foolhardy courage Izumo’s seen so many times before. “Please, leave this to me, Kamiki.”

The other tamer stomps her foot, hands clenched painfully into fists. “You can’t seriously expect me to leave you here—”

“Izumo!!” Shiemi’s cherubic features harden into a mask of stony determination. “Just like I have something I must do, right now, there’s something only you can do. I believe in you! Now, go!”

Long vines of wisteria shoot out from Nee’s chest, wrapping around Izumo and pulling her up and away through an opening in the cocoon. The last she sees of Shiemi is her soft, tender smile… and then the bramble closes up completely.

———

Izumo thrashes, curses, and kicks violently at the vines the whole way through, but they’re undeterred. They seem to stretch endlessly, weaving seamlessly around every tree and bush, before they finally clear the woods and reach their limit. Upon gently depositing her on top of a steep hill, they rapidly recoil and vanish from sight. The fallen petals have made a perfect trail, and she has half a mind to stomp her way right back… until she sees the scene beyond the crest.

The apocalypse, pure and simple, is upon them.

But… a figure in the distance has her running down the slope before she even realizes it. The hair is too light and all wrong, his face too sunken, and god, when did he get so skinny—but there’s no way she’d mistake him for anyone else.

“Rin!”

His gaze snaps to her, shifting instantly from piercing to panicked. He stands alone in a clearing, his clothing showing clear signs of battle, but seeming uninjured. There’s no sign of Yukio’s presence—not yet. The knot in Izumo’s chest finally untangles with relief.

Good. She isn’t too late.

“I-Izumo?! You shouldn’t be here!” Despite his words, his arms still raise up as though he means to catch her when she starts skidding down the rest of the way.

But as with all things, she stubbornly resists this, digging her heels in firmly to stop a few feet away from him, ignoring her ankles’ aching protest. The glare she gives him could wither a man twice his size, and dimly, Rin thinks that he’s glad he’s more demon than man at the moment.

She inhales sharply.

There’s something only you can do.

“You,” Izumo says with an impressive amount of venom in one word, “are an absolute idiot.”

Rin’s mouth drops open.

“I mean seriously, did you make a bet with someone to get dumber and dumber everyday?! Every time I think you’ve finally peaked, you go off and find a way to prove me wrong. And the worst part is, you don’t even take your own advice!” She crosses her arms firmly across her chest, successfully managing to not flinch when one of her nastier injuries reopens.

Rin frantically throws his arms up in the air, his expression one of pure bewilderment. “What the hell— what is going on here?! Why are you here— no, why are you angry at me— no, did you seriously just come here to get mad at me?! What did I do?!” He pauses, spotting the blood dripping off her arm. “Wait, you’re blee—”

Her glare somehow grows icier as she takes a step forward. “Don’t try to change the subject. You know exactly what you were about to do.” Step. “You were about to sacrifice yourself.” He swallows. Another step. “You want to protect your friends, your brother, and everyone, and somewhere in that twisted, idiot logic of yours, you worked out a way to save everyone except yourself.” The last step puts her within arm’s reach, the closest they’ve been in a long, long time. “I think we both know better than anyone what being on the receiving end of that feels like.”

He can’t hold her gaze. The second he looks away, she flicks him on the forehead.

“If you’ve reached the end of what you can do alone, then rely on us. We’re here for you.”

His eyes widen.

And maybe it’s because when she’s this close, she can really see how different he looks and it hurts her heart; maybe it’s because he looks like he’s been staring down the gallows for so long that he dares not imagine a break in the rope; or maybe it’s because the world is threatening to pull apart at the seams around them and she lost the will to pretend she didn’t care so, so long ago—any one of these reasons could be the one that has her hand gently carding through his hair.

Rin’s frozen under her touch, looking all too fragile and scared for her liking, and she tousles his hair a little rougher. “This white really doesn’t suit you.” Her voice is so soft, the kind of soft he’s only ever heard her use for Paku and Shiemi, and sometimes Kuro when she thinks no one is listening. She lowers her hand and ghosts her fingertips along his cheek, almost as if by accident, and he subconsciously leans into the touch. Her heart pounds with one, decisive thump. “Should I start calling you ‘grandpa,’ old man?”

He blinks once. Twice. Three times before saying, “What?”

She snorts and drops her hand, sneering as she shrugs as condescendingly as possible. “Oh sorry, didn’t realize you were hard of hearing now too. I said, do you—”

He splutters. “Who’re you calling grandpa?! First of all, I’d be a Grade A silver fox—”

“Did you seriously just use the word ‘fox’ because it’s me—”

Their bickering fills the air and, given the setting, it’s an entirely ridiculous picture. When students read records of war in the classroom, very rarely are there entries that go, “and then the commander argued with his classmate about how much of a catch he was before setting off to battle.”

(But for this war, if they all were to survive, perhaps someone would write—)

An approaching presence has Rin snap to attention, and he’s momentarily thrown when he realizes that he’s actually relaxed and focused. There isn’t even a trace of the destructive spiral he was going down before…

He looks to Izumo, who already has Mike and Uke summoned by her side. Before she arrived. Their eyes meet and she grins like a shot fox. “You might as well just stand back and let me finish this whole thing. Wouldn’t want you to break a hip out there.”

Laughter bursts from his lips. “You never heard of respecting your elders, missy?” His hand slips briefly into her own, squeezing hard.

Thanks, Izumo.

(—Perhaps someone would write about the group of friends who knew that even the son of Satan had doubts and fears, and the shrine maiden who pulled him back.)

#rizumo #rizumo week 2020 #rinzumo #izurin #Ao no Exorcist #blue exorcist

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sunrisespidey · 6 years ago

Text

ceo!tom

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: ceo!tom falls in love with smoothie-loving intern, y/n

word count: 5.9k im sorry

a/n: i’m literally never writing shit like this again wtf?? the ending is so rushed and i’m rlly sorry but i got so bored of this i just wanted it out and done with. it was 14 pages on google docs bye

it’s a different style that i usually write in, but i wanted to branch out so idk let me know what you thought about it?

PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FLOP! I WORKED ON THIS FOR LIKE A WEEK

warnings: swearing, long read, and unedited

masterlist ♡

Y/N’s made a mistake.

Or at least, that’s what she thinks, staring up at the daunting skyscraper that towered before her, with the large Holland and Co. sign glinting under the bright glare of the sun. How had she ended up here? Her, a struggling college student, and yet here she was, interning at one of the biggest business firms in England. It really didn’t add up. It’s all been a blur. She remembers getting the phone call, being told to arrive at, and she quotes, “7AM on the dot, tardiness will not be tolerated”, and it’s almost as though she’s reliving high school all over again, only this time around, her future is actually on the line.

Which is probably why she’d dragged herself out of bed at 4 in the morning, and then proceeded to spend an hour pep talking herself in the mirror. Was it too late to back out now? She figures if she turns back and leaves, she can probably make it back to her apartment in 20 minutes flat, and then she can call in faking an illness or whatnot. After that, she can stay in, snuggled up to her cat, Dusty, and stay curled up in front of her tv with a warm mug of hot cocoa in her hands and an episode of The Office playing quietly in the background. (This, she decides, smiling internally, is her ideal day.) She’s almost ready to give in, leaning back to book it, the idea of leaving almost too enticing. Instead, she finds herself placing one foot in front of the other. Y/N doesn’t even know what motivates her to take that step forward, the step that began to lead her to those terrifying glass doors, but she’s managed to take a second step, then a third, a fourth, and—

A rush of warmth surrounds her, sending a shiver through her body, and she immediately misses the cold outdoor winds that previously nipped at her ears. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever wanted to venture back out into the cold winter as much as she does at this moment. Her eyes stay trained on the ground, and she dreads the moment she’ll have to inevitably look up, so she doesn’t. Instead, she studies the marble floors (they’re really nice, she should consider investing in something similar, she thinks), until she hears a voice, practically coated with sugar, pipe up.

“Excuse me, Miss?” Her head whips up, swallowing nervously, and she’s greeted by a lady who looks to be in her mid-twenties with a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face (fake, no doubt, but really, who was she to judge?), head tilted in concern. “Are you lost?”

She considers saying no just to turn back around rather than face the fire, but she steels her nerves and sends her an abashed smile. “Yeah, I am. Would you mind helping me?” And Y/N nearly cringes at her attempts to be polite but continues anyways. “I’m an intern, Y/N Y/L/N?”

She isn’t really listening when the receptionist lady answers, and she knows she should’ve, but she listens to the lady drone on, the same smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes glued to her face, and Y/N wonders what kind of toothpaste she uses to whiten. Somehow, Y/N finds herself being whisked away and up into the elevator, where she finally starts paying attention long enough to meet a kind woman who she remembers is named Nadine and would be her shadow for her time at Holland and Co.

She listens attentively (or at least she tries), as Nadine gives her a tour of the floor, and she can’t help but wish that she brought along a strawberry smoothie. She ends up so lost in thought that she nearly stumbles into Nadine after she stops abruptly, and Y/N peeks around her to see what’s happened. She’s startled when the noise reaches her ears, and she realizes that it’s a grown man backing away slowly from an office, pleading for someone to rethink their decision.

“Please, Mr. Holland, I’ll do better next time, please—” Y/N hears the slam before she sees it, yelping quietly at the shock of it, the noise still reverberating through the office. Her eyes blow wide, mouth gaping. She hopes she never comes in contact with this Mr. Holland.

Y/N finds that the tour ends quickly after that.

It’s not that Tom’s a cruel person.

He doesn’t jerk off to the thought of firing employees — he’s most certainly not a masochist — it’s just that he works with absolute morons. So really, what’s he supposed to do when some twat from accounting screws up some simple numbers that cost his company 10,000 pounds? (it’s not like his company can’t afford it, but the thought still makes a scowl form on his face) The only reasonable choice he can make is to fire the man, and it certainly isn’t his fault if the twit stumbles out of his office blubbering about how he’ll do better. And it definitely isn’t his fault if a cute, smoothie-loving intern witnesses the whole thing, because why does it matter if a bloody intern is afraid of him? (at least, that’s what he tries to convince himself)

(spoiler alert: it doesn’t work)

It’s day two, and Y/N thinks she’s made some friends.

She’s promised to bring each of them a smoothie (“They’re the light of my life,” she’d said, “can’t live without ‘em.”), which explains why she’s currently juggling four smoothies, one for herself and each of her new friends and, Sarah, Jacqueline, and Mike, while arriving at work at 6:50 in the morning. She’s so focused on carrying the drinks, eyeing each one with a careful precision that she fails to see the man donning a crisp suit (expensive. Gucci, maybe?), and a stern expression on his face, walking in front of her. She doesn’t realize that he’s been eyeing her the entire time, face softened into an unusual smile, rarely seen around the office. And she definitely doesn’t notice when he stops walking — at least, not until it was too late.

It all happens in slow motion to Y/N. She watches, helpless, as the smoothies in her hand tipped, and as Tom Holland, CEO of Holland and Co., turned around to be met with not one, nor two, nor three, but four strawberry smoothies. His mouth gapes, and hers does too, a quiet but sharp “oh fuck,” spilling from her lips. She stands, motionless, for less than a second before she’s sprung in motion, leaping for the nearest towels, endless apologies spewing from her lips.

This is it. Months of effort to even be considered for this position, and she’s fucked it up on the second day.

Y/N waits, eyes closed, preparing for the inevitable blow of being fired, the humiliation she’d face (god knows the entire floor was already staring at them wide-eyed), but to her surprise, it never comes. Instead, the towels are plucked from her hands, and her eyes snap open to be met with the prettiest face she thinks she’s ever come across, amusement flitting through their eyes.

“Don’t do that again, yeah, love?” And he’s gone, strolling away from her stunned form, so casually that Y/N wonders how he can ignore the smoothie dripping off his suit so easily. The rest of the floor stare after him as well, each of them with eyes blown wide and mouths hanging open.

Tom has no idea what just happened.

He’s got smoothie dripping from his suit that — mind you — was quite possibly one of his most expensive clothing investments, and he’s not even that angry about it. He isn’t really sure what had happened. He remembers looking over at the intern, Y/N, he remembers (and god, was she adorable), and then suddenly being drenched in a thick, gooey substance that suspiciously smelled like strawberries. Had it been anybody else, Tom’s sure they’d be out of his company faster than they could blink. But there was something about Y/N that captivated him, and he isn’t sure he’d be able to handle firing her over such a trivial mistake (of course, he’s fired employees over less, but he dismisses that thought). So instead, he’d strolled away as casually and as quickly as he possibly could force himself to act, trying to disguise the red blush that would’ve surely risen to his cheeks and turned his ears a bright, piercing red. His heart had pounded in his chest, so loud he wonders if Y/N had heard it, and as soon as he was out of sight, he’d darted into his office and shut the door.

His heart is still pounding in his chest, and he has no idea how some intern he’s never even said more than three sentences to can have such an impact on him. (Tom almost considers turning to Harrison for advice, but he would prefer not to be called a sap for the rest of his life) So, he strips himself of his smoothie-soaked suit jacket and prays to avoid any future interaction with Y/N.

Of course, Tom’s wish refused to come true, because the next morning, walking into the building, he bumps into her again.

Well, not literally. He’s strolling leisurely into the warm building, shooting a tight-lipped smile to the receptionist who always seemed to be showing a ridiculous amount of cleavage whenever he came around when he hears his name being called and the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning around, he crosses his fingers desperately, hoping that it was some other employee — preferably one that didn’t make his heart skip a beat at the mere thought of them.

But he’s still met with the sight of Y/N running through the doors of the building, regardless of his desperate wishes. It only takes a few seconds for her to catch up to his still figure, and when she does, she bends over, panting with her hands resting on her knees.

“Holy fu— sorry, language. M’so out of shape,” Y/N heaves, straightening up and wiping at her head, “you’re so fast, wow—” Tom finds himself unable to respond, head dizzy from her presence. He’s pretty sure if she knew he was taking such deep breaths because she smelled so oddly intoxicating, she’d call him a creep and run away and never speak to him ever again. He thinks she smells like vanilla, which is so common that he wonders how she can make it work so well, and—

“Mr. Holland?” Y/N’s hand waves in front of his face, and Tom snaps out of his daydream to muster up a charming smile for her. “Were you listening?”

Tom hums, nodding his head to show he was interested — a common courtesy. She shot him a suspicious glance but returned his smile nonetheless. “Well,” she started, clapping her hands together, “I brought you something — to say sorry for spilling my smoothies on you yesterday.” Tom doesn’t really know what to expect, but as she reaches into her purse, he’s definitely not expecting her to pull out a small pastry wrapped in a Greggs wrapper, neatly folded into a small rectangle.

“It’s a sausage roll,” Y/N explains, pushing it into his hands, “from Greggs. I just love their sausage rolls, and I just passed one as I was pulling into work, so I thought I’d buy you one as an apology.” At this point, he’s working overtime to not consciously drool over the sausage roll in his hands, because he’s sure that Y/N would run for the hills if she saw him so unprofessional.

So, he musters up a polite nod, a smile, and a: “Thank you, love.” And she takes that as her cue to scurry off, with a wave to the receptionist who’s not so inconspicuously scowling at her, and she’s out of Tom’s sight.

He stares after her until she’s completely out of his sight, and when she’s gone, he breathes a sigh of relief.

He’s got an issue on his hands.

---

When Y/N tells her new friends about the traumatic incident that had occurred the previous day, she finds that they’ve taken to staring at her in awe, because holy shit, you’ve spilt four smoothies on the most temperamental CEO in the business and yet you’re still here. (how reassuring. mind the sarcasm.)

“Are you joking?” Mike stares at Y/N, mouth open so wide that Y/N’s curious if his jaw is achy yet. “If that were me, I would’ve been fired quicker than I could’ve said sorry. And he called you ‘love’ too? Man, you’ve got him wrapped around your little pinky finger.” (Y/N’s sure they’re just saying this to make her feel better — after all, it’s not every day you spill four smoothies on a multi-millionaire CEO)

“I bet Mr. Holland’s got the hots for you,” Sarah whispers, turning her head to make sure nobody important is in earshot (because anything can set Mr. Holland off, really), “you could probably bust up all of his cars and he’d smile at you, babe.”

“Yeah,” Jacqueline butts in, and Y/N sends her a frown because this entire time they’d been talking, Jacqueline had been quietly filing papers (or at least that’s what Y/N thought), only to realize she’d actually been listening in the entire time, “Mr. Holland likes you— like, like likes you.”

Y/N snorts, sending Jacqueline an unamused stare. “What is this, middle school? M’sure he’s just being nice, s’all.”

Sarah scoffs, raising her eyebrows disbelievingly. “Yeah, right, and I’m a millionaire,” she jokes sarcastically, glancing at Y/N with a lopsided grin on her face. “Trust me. Mr. Holland is anything but nice.”

But Y/N can’t seem to believe that. Surely, he wasn’t that horrible, right?

Days pass and Tom hasn’t seen Y/N in a while, and although he has to admit that popping out a stiffy in the middle of a business proposal at the thought of her isn’t the most enticing, he’s starting to miss her. (of course, the only interaction he’s truly had with her is the disaster that cost him a fortune at the dry cleaners, but he still admires her from afar in the least stalker-y way possible)

Most employees would find it beneficial to have the least contact with Tom as possible. It’s been a bit of a known fact that when called into his office, chances are, they’d be leaving with their belongings in a box. So when Nadine, her supervisor, tells Y/N that he’d like to see her in his office, (and in a very loud tone, at that, so now she’s got the whole office staring after her as she shamefully trudges to Tom’s office) she’s quite terrified. She’d only heard horror stories about what went on in his office, and she’s really come to love the company and crosses her fingers and toes that he isn’t going to terminate her internship. (maybe, Y/N thinks, Tom changed his mind about the smoothie incident. Or even worse, he hated the sausage rolls)

So needless to say, Y/N is just about ready to piss herself pushing open the door to his office, because she remembers what happened on her first day and she has no desire to receive the same treatment. As soon as she sees Tom, sitting in his office chair sorting a few papers, she’s already immediately blurting out a plea.

“If you’re going to fire me, please just make it quick.” Tom’s face twists into one of confusion, and he chuckles. (my god, was she dense.)

“Fire you?” He laughed, placing the papers to the side. “The opposite, actually. When your internship finishes, I was going to offer you a permanent job here at Holland and Co. Unless you don’t want it?” The grin that he offers her is so cheeky that Y/N considers saying no just to wipe the smile off his face for scaring the shit out of her like that, but she isn’t nearly rich or petty enough to refuse such a huge proposal. So instead, she nods eagerly, holding in a squeal that threatens to burst out of her throat, and thanks him profusely. What Tom doesn’t expect is for her to pull him into a tight hug, and he’s floored. (he realizes that he really enjoys her hugs.) When she’s pulled back, her face has contorted into one of embarrassment, and she mumbles an awkward apology before she escorts herself out of the door.

(Tom’s grateful, because maybe then, she wouldn’t have seen the blush that tinted his tan cheeks a rosy red.)

Tom has a problem.

He’s found that he’s got a crush on one of his company’s interns, Y/N. A real, massive, red-faced, crush on her. In fact, he’s found himself looking forward to seeing her when he can — even though he only sees her a handful of times in a month — and yet, he feels an oddly joyful twisting in his gut when she directs that brilliant smile of hers towards him. He’s realized that she’s weaseled her way into his heart and life, and truth be told, he really has no problem with it. Even embraces it, at that.

So yes, he’s got a problem.

Tom is absolutely fucking exhausted.

He’s just about ready to go home, make himself a cuppa, and crash in his obnoxiously soft bed. He’s sure that the company is empty by now because it’s well over the time they get dismissed, so he stumbles out of his office before closing and locking the door. Tom scans the room a final time, ready to leave, but his eyes catch a dim light left on in the back, and he rolls his eyes to go check, annoyed at whichever wanker decided to leave the lights on before they left. So he’s certainly caught off guard when he comes across Y/N tapping away at her computer, sat in her little cubicle.

“Y/N?” Tom asks cautiously, brows furrowed. He has no idea what she’s still doing here, especially since she was supposed to leave at five and the sky outside has already darkened drastically.

“Holy fucking shit—” she screeches, her arms jerking up to cover her mouth, “oh my God, Mr. Holland, you scared the shit outta me.” He finds it quite adorable that she’s sitting there, eyes wide, a hand placed on her heaving chest.

“What’re you still doing here?” Tom questions, because he hasn’t known a single person who would stay past the time they were supposed to return home, and he wasn’t expecting an intern of all people to do so at all.

“I was gonna leave soon, promise, s’just that I almost had this done, so I just wanted to stay to finish it.” Tom nods thoughtfully, switching his briefcase from his right hand to his left, and beckons her to follow him to the parking garage.

“Well come on then, I’ll walk you to your car.” And although Y/N appreciates the thought, (a foolish one, to be honest, because what university student can afford a bloody car?) she shakes her head.

“Well, I was just planning on walking home, because it’s not too far, y’know, and—“

“No way you’re walking home at — 9 at night!” Tom scoffs, checking his watch. He’s gotten way too attached to her to let her put herself in any sort of danger, so he proposes the only idea he could think of in the spur of the moment— “I’ll drive you home, darling.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Mr. Holland,” she protests, shaking her head wildly, “besides, I’m sure it’s not even on the route, so—“ He interrupts her yet again, (a repeating occurrence, she realizes) shaking his head.

“Nonsense. Come on, now. The sooner we get you back, the better.” And with that, Y/N watches him turn around, followed by her trailing behind him like some sort of lost puppy.

It’s not long until they arrive in the parking garage, but Y/N sees a stunning Rolls Royce and gushes over it internally. She’s ready to pass it by, wave goodbye at it, (call her dramatic, but it isn’t every day you can admire a sleek red Rolls Royce in person) but instead, they stop in front of it.

Y/N, who experiences an odd sense of deja vu, crashes into his sturdy back in response. Tom raises an eyebrow, amused, and shoots his hand out to steady her. “Thank god you didn’t have any smoothies this time, hm?” Y/N watches as he moves to the driver’s seat, opening the door, but pauses when he catches sight of her frozen figure.

“What’s the matter, love?” He grins, his hand resting lazily on the open door. Y/N stays where she stood, too terrified to even approach the vehicle (because let’s be real, if she fucked anything up, she’d have to sell every single one of her internal organs to pay it back).

“Oh—Oh fuck— sorry, but shit, Mr. Holland, there’s no way you can expect me to get in that car,” she swallows, backing up slightly, “that’s gotta cost more than I would if I sold myself on the black market.”

Tom simply chuckles, and Y/N’s heart sort of bursts at the sound since it’d been her first time hearing the joyous sound. He ducks his head to crawl into the luxurious car with a simple, “Alright, doll, just get in,” and she practically scrambles to the passenger seat. (as reluctant as she was, she wasn’t thrilled to walk the long trek home in the slightest.)

She’s barely halfway inside the car before she’s already cramping herself to occupy a smaller area of space despite the spacious interior. Tom notices at the same time, tilting his head as he watches her cautiously press the seatbelt into its buckle as if she’d shatter the buckle with too much pressure.

“You look like I‘ve just forced you into an airtight box, love.” He mutters casually, placing a hand on the back of her seat to reverse out of the garage, “Loosen up for me, alright? Where am I dropping you off?”

She gives him an address, and he programs it into his phone. “Well, look at that, darling, you’re right on my route home.” (he’s lying, but she really doesn’t need to know that they essentially live on opposing sides of London, because the last thing he wants her to do is to leave and walk home) He can see her exhale a sigh of relief and grin, and that alone is enough for Tom not to feel an ounce of regret about his choice.

In hindsight, this was a great idea.

Now, Tom’s not too sure, because she’s got the radio on now, and she’s singing like nobody’s there and it makes Tom’s heart grow three sizes too big. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s starting to fall for her, further than any point of return, and if anyone saw them in that car in that very moment, they’d see him staring at her with the softest gaze anyone had ever seen on the seemingly apathetic CEO in a long time.

It’s when they approach Y/N’s apartment building that something happens. Y/N whispers out a thank you, and she’s almost out of his car, that Tom catches a glimpse of her phone wedged in the cup holders, and he reaches out for her wrist, calling out for her to wait. He doesn’t expect her to unceremoniously tumble back into his car and lap with a squawk from the sudden tug on her wrist.

“S—Sorry!” Tom yelps, a flush crawling up his neck, and it’s then that he realizes how close their faces were. If he were to lean down in the slightest, their lips would meet and— “Your phone! You forgot your phone!”

Y/N never really had the ability to think rationally in unforeseen situations. Which is maybe why she can’t help but lean up and press a quick kiss to his lips, stunning into silence, but it’s not even her fault, truthfully! (it is, but she tries to give herself the benefit of the doubt) She’d never seen him so uncomposed and flustered, and it was honestly the most adorable thing she’d ever seen.

Her eyes blink at her sudden bold attitude, and then she’s scrambling out the car, maneuvering herself in a way that she wouldn’t headbutt Tom, and she’s gone, running into the building with a loud stuttered “sorry!” Tom loses sight of her, still staring after her, dazed, one singular thought running through his head.

Holy fuck.

Tom calls Harrison as soon as he gets home. Harrison arrives in ten minutes flat. (“God, you’re such a drama queen. I’m on my way.”)

“C’mon, mate, don’t just stand there and call me a sap, what do I do?” Tom groans, throwing a toy to Tessa who lay on the couch beside his body, staring at him with a peculiarly knowing look, and Tom groans again because even his damn dog knew about his dilemma.

“She probably likes you, you div,” Harrison grins, raising his voice to imitate Y/N. “Mr. Holland is just… so hot! I dream about kissing him every night!”

“Oi, come off it, you dickhead, she doesn’t even sound like that,” Tom mutters, shoving Harrison to the side. “Probably didn’t even mean shit to her, just like, a friendly kiss or summat.” Tom knows it was more than that. If the amorous gazes and gestures were anything to go by, it would be easy to mistake them as head over heels for one other (unfortunately for them, it’s not exactly a mistake to assume they’re goners for each other, because it’s absolutely true).

Harrison shoots him a look. “Yeah, mate, I kiss all my friends too. S’just a normal friend thing, innit? Now c’mon, gimme a nice smooch.” Harrison teases, puckering his lips to make obnoxious smacking noises towards Tom. He’s met with a pillow to the face, and he laughs, throwing his head back. “You’re so whipped, mate.”

Maybe just a little, Tom thinks.

The next morning, Tom’s prepared to man up and do something about his hopeless crush on Y/N. He’s got his entire speech planned out, in fact.

He’ll start it off by handing her a muffin. Chocolate chip, to be specific. And then, he’ll woo her with a romantic speech, as follows: “Y/N, I think I’ve liked you ever since you spilled those drinks on me. I’ve been wanting to ask you to dinner for a while now, and the kiss we shared last night was amazing. So, will you go out with me?” (it sounds better in his head, it really does)

But none of that happens, because when he catches her eye, he beelines for her and they both let out a rush of words at once.

“I brought you something—“

“Last night was a mistake—“

Tom stops, mouth drying at her words. “Sorry, what?”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Holland, that was so unprofessional of me to kiss you. We can just forget it ever happened if that’s alright.” And Tom’s mouth snaps shut, his hopeful words dying on his tongue before they could escape. Y/N stood in front of him, wringing her hands, a smoothie by her side. “I brought you a smoothie to apologize — you seemed like a Berry Blast kind of guy. Hope that’s alright.” She hands him the smoothie, unaware of Tom’s internal battle because damn it all to hell, he so desperately wanted that kiss to mean something to her and no, he never wanted to forget about it. He sends her a pained, restrained smile, accepting the smoothie she holds as a peace offering and tries to retreat to his office.

“Wait, Mr. Holland!” Y/N cries out, running to tap his shoulder, “What were you saying? I cut you off earlier.”

Tom carefully hides the chocolate chip muffin behind his back, shaking his head. “It was nothing, you took the words right out of my mouth.” Tom laughs, and yet the sound is so forced it almost makes him wince. Y/N’s smile drops for the slightest moment before it’s up on her face again.

“Oh, alright then!” She smiles, waving her hand towards him, “Have a nice day then!”

Tom decides he most certainly will not.

“You guys are such bloody wankers!” Y/N cries as soon as she reaches her cubicle, “Y’said he liked me! And just now, he told me that he wanted to forget about the kiss too. God, I’m so humiliated! I might as well just go on and die from humiliation now—“

“Okay, babe, chill,” Sarah tries, but to no avail.

“—I can see the headlines already! ‘Intern kisses boss, gets rejected and dies.’ Fuckin’ hell—“ Y/N’s mini-rant is cut off by Sarah’s hand coming to clamp over her mouth, muffling any sound, but quickly yanks her hand back at the feeling of Y/N’s tongue licking a stripe across her palm.

“I’m sure everything’ll be fine, no harm done. He’ll forget about it in two days flat, promise.” Sarah reassures her, patting her back awkwardly.

“For fuck’s sake, mate,” Tom grumbles, head in his hands, “you said she was into me!” Tom’s in shambles because as far as he knows, he’s just humiliated himself in front of the girl he’s taken a liking to.

Harrison laughs at his distressed state teasingly, tossing a pen in the air and catching it to cease his boredom. “M’sure she was just doing what she thought you’d want — hope you realize you aren’t the most approachable guy.”

“Fuck off, you div,” Tom mutters, tossing a highlighter at Harrison’s head, “I resent that, mate.”

The next time Tom interacts with her, it’s not for at least a month. (he needed the time to shake off his humiliation.)

It’s so similar to the previous time that it makes Tom’s heart clench at the memory of her soft lips on his. This time though, it’s because the weather outside was pouring buckets that flooded the streets and soaked everything in contact. So it’s not even a question of ‘maybe’ before Tom’s already insisting on driving her home.

“Love, there’s no way in hell that I’m letting you walk through that rain,” Tom tells her, already pulling on his jacket. “Now c’mon, what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t drive you home?”

Y/N reluctantly agrees, shutting down her computer and picking her purse up from under her desk. “Alright. But you’ve got to promise me that I’m not a bother, Mr. Holland.”

“Never,” Tom promises, placing a hand on her arm to gently guide her to the exit. “D’you want me to pull the car up? I know it’s raining pretty hard out there, don’t want you to get wet or summat.” He picks up on his unintentional innuendo too late, his cheeks and ears flushing a thorough red blush. “Not—not like that, I mean like—”

“No, no, it’s alright, I can survive a little rain.” Tom’s never been more grateful for Y/N ignoring his slip-up, because he’s sure that if she’d acknowledged it, Tom would’ve stayed red for the next century or so. (get it together, he tells himself, she’s just a girl, and you’re not a virgin, you moron,)

The drive to her place is quiet apart from her loud singing, but the real dilemma comes when they pull up to the door.

“For fuck’s sake, I—ugh.” Y/N groans, hand leaving her purse dejectedly. “I’ve locked myself out. Don’t even have a spare key.” Tom’s headgears are already turning before she can finish her sentence. “S’alright, I’ll just call my landlord and sleep with a neighbour or something.��

“Why don’t you come sleep at my house?” Tom offers, and Y/N is quick to refuse, insisting that she’s already a bother, and she wouldn’t force him to deal with her presence any longer. “I already promised you weren’t a bother, darling.”

When Y/N buckles up her seatbelt again, she’s expecting Tom to just continue down the road, but instead he makes a swift u-turn and drives back down the same road the came from.

“Mr. Holland! You told me my apartment was on route to yours — why’ve we turned ‘round?” She gapes, head spinning to look back through the window towards her flat. Tom gives her a cheeky shrug, flicking his windshield wipers to a higher speed as the rain came down harder and obstructed his view of the road.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” he mutters, sending her a smile. “Plus, that’s Tom to you outside of work — Mr. Holland is my dad, love.”

Tom doesn’t know how he’s gotten into this position.

He’s got Y/N in his arms, sound asleep, wearing his shirt, sleeping on his bare chest, and his mind is still hazy from the kisses they shared that night. He remembers how they walked into his penthouse, and Y/N had gushed over everything inside, (“holy shit, Mr—Tom, you have a fucking fluffy bath mat? I’ve always wanted one!”) and awed over his dog Tessa, (“ohmigod, you have a bloody dog too? You’re like… the perfect man!” and Tom has to admit that he took this in a different way, because he would love to be Y/N’s perfect man.) Tom had set up his Netflix for her to browse as he prepared them both a warm cuppa, and he’d returned to see Y/N and Tessa cuddled up in a blanket he’d brought for her. The sight tightened his chest, and really, everything from there is a blur.

The main part that he remembers is that they kissed. (and oh, did they kiss)

“You’ve driven me bloody insane, darling,” Tom admitted, pulling her in for a kiss that frazzled her nerves and curled her toes. Y/N’d pulled away, gasping for air, and Tom trailed light kisses down the length of her neck, his arms wrapping themselves around her waist.

“What’re we doing, Tom?” She’d asked between kisses that he’d pressed to her face.

“What I’ve been wanting for a long while, love.”

And here he was, her head heavy on his chest, nose tucked into the crook of his neck, and Tom’s never felt more at peace. Y/N blinks awake, yawning softly and blinking blearily before she readjusts herself, pulling her body to lay on top of his.

“You’re my… my pillow now, m’kay?” She murmurs, reaching up to press a kiss to his jaw.

Tom smiles, tightening his hold on the sleepy girl, humming. He’s pushing her hair back to kiss her forehead, and Tom decides that he’s never been happier.

want to be added to my taglist?

everything tags:

@timelock97 @gendryia @laucontrerasv @megzdoats @tommydaspidey @boredombesson @not-jay-c @its-the-unknownspidey

tom tags:

@bellagrayson-wayne @thorkyriebabes @ynm1505

not on my taglist but i hope will read this:

@stuckonspidey @hholyholland @bloodredsatan @suckerforparker @afterglowparker

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland drabble #tom holland one shot #marvel fanfiction #ceo!tom #tom holland au #tom holland x reader insert #tom holland x you #tom holland reader #tom holland imagine

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rockcampfifteen · 4 years ago

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How I Got to Sesame Street: Bill Sherman Talks Working with Lin-Manuel Miranda, Where He Keeps His Grammys, and Being Ignored by Big Bird

I didn’t think that Rock and Roll Camp XV was even going to happen this year, if I’m being honest, but nothing about this year has been predictable, so here we are. A dozen campers and about as many counselors in a Zoom meeting. We made it work, and it worked well. Since camp wasn’t a physical, in-the-moment experience, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for photos or camper interviews, but we did get the chance to interview Bill Sherman, an Emmy, Tony, and Grammy award winning musician. Bill has worked on musicals like Hamilton and In the Heights and is a music director for Sesame Street. He was laid-back, down-to-earth, and didn’t give any impression that he was full of himself. Bill didn’t act like most award-winning musicians and talked openly about his life and experiences. He mentioned that he had been stuck in traffic, and that he was worried he’d be late for our interview. We knew that he was taking us seriously, that he didn’t just see us as a bunch of kids wanting to have a talk.

-Elsa

Elsa: I just want to say we appreciate you taking the time to talk to us. We’ve got a lot of questions, so we’ll jump right in. What was the first instrument you learned to play, and what attracted you to it?

My parents got me piano lessons when I was in elementary school, and I was super not into it. I believe the teacher’s name was Mrs. Record—which is hilarious for a music teacher’s name—and she taught me for a couple years, and I was terrible at it, so I quit. And then in fourth grade we had to pick an instrument, and the music teacher where I went to school was a woodwind player. He was like, “Bill you should play the clarinet.” I was like, “Okay, sounds great.” And then in sixth grade—this is a good story—he goes, “You know, the clarinet has the same mechanics and fingerings of saxophones,” and I was like, “No way, that sounds like a way cooler instrument than the freaking clarinet.” If any of you are clarinet players, I don’t mean to offend you. Also, I still play the clarinet. Anyway, he showed me the saxophone and I was immediately attracted to it. And when he left the room, I took the saxophone and left with it and I didn’t tell him. So I stole it. I took it home. And it became my thing. I was obsessed with it. My teacher’s name was Gary Meyer. He later went on to be my private saxophone teacher for like a hundred years, until I went to college, and now, he in fact works for me. He plays in the Sesame Street Band. He’s a woodwind player. So it was a pay-it-forward, full circle moment, to have my fourth grade music teacher be in my band.

I got really into jazz. I went to a real big jock high school, and I stopped playing sports and just played saxophone, all day every day, all the time. And in college it became my identity. Mike can attest—I was the saxophone guy. I led bands, and I played all the time… if you see movies about colleges, and there’s a music guy? I was kind of that guy.

I later taught myself to play piano—another full circle moment—because composing on the saxophone for anybody is a difficult thing to do. I have a number of guitars that I have no idea how to play.

Elsa, by the way, has your name become like the coolest ever since the whole Frozen situation? My kids would think that’s the coolest thing ever.

Elsa: Frozen came out when I was in about second grade, and of course I was so hyped for it. I went to a theater with a friend of mine, and afterwards I was like, “Oh, I was the Ice Queen, oh yeah!!” And of course you go back to elementary school, and everyone’s like, “Oh, you have ice powers,” and so pretty soon I was tired of that. But it’s kind of gone away. It went away for a few years, and people stopped associating it with my name. And then Frozen 2 came out and here we are again—

(Bill Laughs.)

Michael: I have a question for you, Bill.

Okay, Mike. Does everybody know that Mike used to be this amazing trumpet player, and he was in my band, and he wrote for the band, and he packed this unbelievable punch, and he was like this tall, and he was this awesome powerhouse, and truth be told... I don’t know if he knows this, but in certain theory classes I would cheat off him, because he had a way better ear than I did.

Michael: I wasn’t going to bring it up, but I do think it’s hilarious that I was better at theory than you. But so anyway, in the band, you were the only one really bringing in your own songs—so I’m wondering where the urge and the confidence to start writing your own material came from?

In high school I wrote poems, and then my senior year of high school, I wrote this instrumental thing and I played it at my graduation. All the people who thought I was a nerd for being into music, they stood up and clapped and I thought that was so freaking cool. That was my first move into composing. And in college it was just kind of what we did. It just seemed like how hard can it be? You start breaking down pop tunes… at that time, we were kind of doing jam band, Ozomatli tunes, four chords and the truth. And you find that pop music in general is four chords and the truth. Like the Foo Fighters: they play four chords really quietly, and then the same four chords way louder, that’s just what they do, and it’s awesome, and it works every time.

The other thing about writing music is that it’s very hard to know if you’re quote unquote “good at it.” I’ve written thousands of songs, and I’d say 75% of them are terrible. But 25% of them people really dig into, and then you wonder, Why this song? Like for Sesame Street, I get very immediate feedback. My friends who have kids, they’ll immediately let me know, This is the song. I wrote this song for Maren Morris on Sesame Street called “Oops, Whoops, Wait, Aha” which is about children calming down, waiting to answer a question, not just like going crazy, and people will send me photos or videos of their kids dancing along to this particular tune, which is great. But that’s the first time in four years that anybody’s contacted me, and in those four years I’ve written hundred of songs that nobody cares about. And so, if you get a good one every four years, that’s great. Songwriting is like anything, you’ve gotta try it, and then you try it some more.

The other best way to do things that are creative and original is to at first emulate people. That’s what we were doing—Mike and I in our band in college. I liked Salif Keita, and I liked Fela Kuti, and I was like, I can write a song like this. We wrote songs that sounded, almost exactly like Fela Kuti tunes. It’s not really original, it definitely sounds like something you’ve heard before, but that’s how you learn how to do it. Study the craft, how other people did it.

Marilla: On Sesame Street, how do you write thousands of songs and not make them all sound the same?

That’s a really good question. I have in fact repeated myself a number of times. I was working on another show a couple years ago, and I wrote this song, and it was great, and they loved it, and then a year and a half later I sent them another song, and they got back to me and were like, “Hey, sorry to say this, but I’m pretty sure this is this,” and they sent me back the song I’d written previously, and it was almost the same exact song, and it was so freaking embarrassing. But I’ve talked with Max Martin about this, and what he does is collaborate. Invite people in. Not to steal their knowledge, but he constantly has new people coming into his fold, because I think you’re right, after a while you just start repeating yourself.

The fun thing about Sesame Street is that it can be any genre. Nothing is genre specific. I can write a hip hop tune one day. And a bossanova the next day. And a ballad another day... One of my favorite things about Sesame Street is that we’re able to bring on new people to keep it interesting and fresh. I’ve been employing more women lately, because there was a time when my writing staff was really male-heavy. Also, Abby is a girl, Rosita is a girl, we need to have that voice. Lately my job at Sesame Street has become more of being like a procurer of music, as opposed to physically writing it—more of like a producer role. People send me stuff all the time. Feel free to get my email from Mike if you have songs you want me to listen to... I will listen to anything.

Lyla: Do you have any advice for younger people—or people in general—when it comes to writing and creating music?

My advice would be to not give up. Not everyone is going to like your stuff. There’s just no way. It’s not gonna happen. It’s a lot of work to be a songwriter, because you’ll write 100 songs, and 98 of them will be terrible, and two of them will be great.

My first couple years in college, I got asked to be in like 100 bands, and I said yes to everyone. Because initially, you have to say yes to everything. You have to play in a crappy cover band. And you have to play in a cool band like we were in, and you have to play in a funk band, because everybody plays in a funk band in college, and then you get to a point where you turn a corner, and then you can start saying no. I didn’t start saying no until five years ago.

Lyla: Another question I have is that you mentioned you used to play in a lot of bands in college, and earlier you mentioned playing at your senior year graduation—did you ever think you would come this far, working with Lin-Manuel Miranda, and writing big musical pieces? Did you ever expect to earn awards or anything?

Well, no. I don’t think you ever expect awards. Success is a whole other thing—you can’t prepare yourself for things like that, it just sort of happens. In the process of saying yes to everything, I got myself into positions that I never would have expected. But when we were in college, all I wanted was to be a saxophone player, and move to New York, and make no money, and just sort of grind it out, and then I met Lin my sophomore year of college. I music directed his musical. And I had never music directed a musical, I had no idea what that meant, but I said yes. And I went on to direct all of his musicals in college, and then we graduated college, and we were roommates forever, and then it was like, “Hey, people want to make In the Heights into something,” and I was like, “Okay, that seems like the most logical thing to be doing,” so we made In the Heights…

I got involved in musicals just randomly, because I said yes to something. I’d never liked musicals. I’d seen Rent, with the original cast, but I’d never listened to Sondheim, or Andrew Lloyd Webber…

But the success thing, it all happened very quickly. Between the ages of 22 and 26. In those four years, it was like marriage, children, awards. I wasn’t expecting any of that stuff.

People come over to my house and pose with my awards, which makes me really uncomfortable, and then one person drank out of the Grammy once... that happened. I have a platinum record in my bathroom. I didn’t know where else to put it.

Elsa: Have you ever thought about writing your own musical?

It’s weird to go from writing minute and a half long songs that are like a single verse and a chorus, to writing these ten minute long opuses that have to have all this narrative in them, and do all this stuff—it’s definitely a different side of my brain. With & Juliet, it was taking Max Martin’s music and turning it into a musical. Deconstructing all these pop hits like “Oops I Did It Again.”

Marilla: How did it feel to see Hamilton on Disney Plus all these years after you worked on it?

It was far out. It was like seeing an old friend. It’s filmed really well, and you’re seeing views of things you’ve never seen before, it sounds fantastic… it just brought back a lot of old memories. Chris Jackson has been my best friend for like a hundred years, and so has Lin, and seeing them on stage, it was a reminder of how good they are… Now, years later, my children have memorized the record, they’re singing the whole thing, which is unbelievably irritating. My daughter—she thinks she knows the whole thing, but she really doesn’t, she just makes up her own lines during the really fast parts, which is really funny, and makes me laugh. I watched it the day it came out. It was a nice excuse to reach out to friends and tell them how good it is, how good they are.. And at a time when theaters are closed, it was cool to see people excited about seeing theater..

Lizzy: What’s your favorite thing to work on, out of all these different projects?

When we were in college, I thought being in a band was the coolest thing ever, and I wanted to play live music for my whole life, and I didn’t want to do anything else. And now I do other things, and all I want to do is play in a band in front of people! Once a year Sesame Street has a gala that some very famous person will come and play at. Last year it was John Legend, two years ago it was Michael Buble, and so there was this big band, and I played in it, and I had so much fun. I kind of miss performing. I play in this thing called Freestyle Love Supreme, which is this documentary that was on Hulu, we make up rap songs--and that’s fun, but I play keyboards, sort of behind the scenes, and so I sort of miss having a band, like we did in college. I’m getting all these memories, Mike, about WestCo Cafe.

These days my favorite thing is collaborating with new folks. We just finished the In the Heights movie, which comes out next year, Sesame Street goes into production in a couple weeks… I’ve been incredibly lucky and honored to do what I do, so talking about it always makes me feel sort of strange, because to me it’s just what I do, but to you it’s like, there’s no way that’s a real job, and explaining it sounds ridiculous, and I’m glad you wanted to listen to me talk about myself for half an hour.

Peter: What’s it like working with Big Bird?

Every day that I walk on to the Sesame Street set, I kind of have to pinch myself a little bit. The guy who played Big Bird passed away a couple years ago. He’s also the guy who played Oscar the Grouch, and he didn’t really know me for a couple years, and then I went to an award show, and I won an award, and he’s actually the guy who presented it to me, and so he hands me the award, and he goes, “Oh my God, I never knew what you did.” And so imagine Big Bird saying to you, “I never knew what you did.” And that was terrifying. Every time I hear Big Bird’s voice, or Kermit’s voice, or Grover --- it freaks me out, because I was a big Grover fan when I was a kid. Those are the times when you’re like, Whoa, this is surreal.

#pendleton #rock and roll camp #sesame street #hamilton #in the heights #lin manuel miranda

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cruzrogue · 5 years ago

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Nerdapoolza

#Fictober19 @fictober-event

————————————————————————

for fanfiction:

Prompt number: Prompt 27 “Can you wait for me?”

Fandom (AU if applicable): #arrow fanfiction #olicity

Rating:PG13

Warnings/Tags: relationships conversations

Summary: A troubled Oliver visits his best-buddy and lands up having to hang with a bunch of nerds at a study group.

Notes: Oliver talks about his past relationships with a girl who listens and with her own advice things change…

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

Nerdapoolza on A03

Oliver has no idea when and why he let things go so far. Doing both Lance sisters was a disaster in the making. So much so that the outcome when visiting his best friend on the East Coast his troubles happen to come along. He just loved having sex. He liked having a girl at home to placid his mother at least. He just really liked the opposite sex and what they had to offer.

What he could do without is the complication some girls brought to the table. Neediness, those girls who couldn’t distinguish between sex and love. Never happy and who can never get enough attention or help. They have no tolerance for being alone. They're clingy. They don't take hints. They call or text you continuously.

Oliver deleting another angry text by Laurel as he just goes to the TV room. Tommy laid out on the lounger watching an oldie.

“Woman problems?” Oliver just shrugs. “I told you to end thing eons ago but do you listen?”

“My mom liked Laurel.”

“Yea, because your mom is the one dating your girlfriend… I mean the ex-girlfriend, now right?”

“I had to leave Starling. It was insane. She’d show up wherever I went. Call, text, shoot even email me.”

“Well your free now. You need a cooling down period anyways?”

“Cooling down?”

“Yes. No girls for at least two weeks.”

“What? No way. Two weeks?”

“Whatever girl you date next shouldn’t fall into the mess you’ve got going on now.”

Oliver takes a moment to think this through, “Okay I get that but no way on the two weeks’ policy I’ll try to manage one.”

“There is no policy it’s just… You know what, if you could manage one without hitting on a girl. I’d be amazed.”

“Oh, please it’s not that hard.”

“Yea maybe when we were eight and we still thought them as yucky.” Tommy looks at his watch. “Alright I better setup for my study group I’m hosting tonight.”

“You actually hosting a study group?”

“Of course, Like my GPA to reflect how kick ass I am.”

“Nerdapoolza.”

“Ha, maybe if you actually cracked open a book, you’d be more than an average student.”

“Shit Tommy, you’ve insulted me in a few things today you want to try my manhood next?”

Tommy holds his hands up, “Bro, if the ladies are okay with you, which it seems they are because let’s face it they seem to bend over backwards for you.” Oliver rolls his eyes. “If you like you can hang out with us intellects.”

“Aren’t I lucky?”

“Here’s the deal. It’s a group of nine, four ladies the rest all guys. We all roughly go to different schools we met through online groupchat pipelines.”

“You just met these strangers online?”

“Well you meet face to face first in a public place and we had more of us but through semesters some have weened out.”

“Fascinating?”

“Ollie, I really enjoyed this. I’ve meet people with my same interests or people who make lackluster subjects that need to be taken easier. Also, there is a comradery.”

“Have you hooked up with anyone?”

“This isn’t like that. If I want to get laid there are better alternatives these are peeps, I want to mindcrush with.”

“So, no hot chicks?”

“There has been a few and well there is one that gets under my skin at times. You’ll meet her.”

“Plays hard to get?”

“No, she’s different?”

Oliver wonders if she is the crazy, bitchy kind of girl that is beautiful but out there. “Crazy? Pure lunatic? Or are you leaning the other way? Boring and predictable?” Seeing Tommy mum his lips, “Underage?”

“No actually she is legal since this past July.”

“Then what is wrong with her?”

“Nothing!” Tommy laughs. “She’s great. Smart to boot and she can dish out like the best of them. She just has different tastes than me.”

“She ‘ll be here tonight?”

“Yea, she’s also in charge of the chip selection.”

“Chips?”

“Yes, they’re brain food if you ask her and they are cheap enough that everyone can handle their chip turn.”

“You guys sound like the lamest party group on the planet.”

“Good thing we are a study group. Come on help me makes some drinks.”

“They won’t have any alcohol, right?” Tommy just sways his head in a different no position.

As there in the kitchen Oliver just watch Tommy take a veggie plate from the fridge. Placing some cut up fruit from a container onto a bowl. Oliver mixing some extra ice to the ready-made ice tea.

“So, what the subject for tonight?”

“Physics and Statistics.”

“Great!”

“In between we may play a game Charades but mostly we talk about what ails us.”

“You really want me to actual negate points now?”

“Come on Ollie, you may actually enjoy a night of brainpower and sharing personal stories at its finest.”

“Shit, if I wasn’t so into proving I can lay off woman for a week I’d take off and enjoy the city’s nightlife.”

“You’d be missing out!”

As the first ring on the doorbell happened Oliver laughs, “Nerdapoolza here we come.”

“Hush!” Tommy opens the door to a Mike and then a Craig and Lisa join in. Soon Phil, and Jessica, and a Robbie joins them. When Carol joins the festivities Oliver wonders if she is the girl but she didn’t bring chips. As they spread around the nice living room the doorbell rings again and Oliver takes the lead to open it.

“Tommy, I got held up by the elevator. I mean why does your place’s elevator have it out for me anyway?” He can’t see her over the large bags of chips she’s carrying. “They had this sale and I couldn’t remember if it green or red salsa Lisa likes so I got them both. The had lime flavored popcorn that Rob likes and I also got you your nachos.” She keeps going and its weirdly amusing as she walks herself to the kitchen. She says hi to everyone without even glancing their way. As she dumps the chips on the counter, she simultaneously takes her backpack off.

From his vantage point he just sees her backside. A really nice backside. His eyes wavering until he focuses and what an interesting view it is. She’s wearing ankle grunge boots, her tie up leggings go up to a flair skirt and it seems she has a wraparound top. With the conversation earlier on this girl he can’t believe he didn’t ask for her name.

“Hence why I’m late and you know I’m an early bird.” She stops as she places the bag she has idly on her hand. Somehow, she is thinking it is weird that Tommy hasn’t stopped to add a colorful comment. “What’s gotten into you…” Her face shows shock the moment she realizes it’s not Tommy. “Who are you?”

“This is my best-buddy in the world.” Tommy says cheerfully as he walks into his kitchen. “We have been through some thick and thin times?”

Felicity glances between the two and then rolls her eyes. “Yea, I bet. Who drank the last beer and who was somber enough to get more?”

Oliver a little irked, “Wow! Really? He just means we made it through high school. Nothing to deep.”

Tommy can see Felicity size his friend up. Either she was going to go after his male ego or sock him.

“Well! Congratulations on that achievement. You know…”

Cutting her off, “Felicity, here is a Mathalon champion.” Oliver gives a don’t give a hoot look. “One of the reasons we are here tonight is how everyone of us has something to give. Tommy gives Oliver a freaking behave look. It has Oliver raise his hands in surrender but he still has a disgruntled look as Felicity is moving bowls and acting like she owns the place.

Pulling Tommy to the side, “What’s her deal?”

“I said she was different. She’s the alpha here. Just go along with it.”

“You have got to be kidding me?”

“I swear Ollie give it some time. Just go with it. She’ll win you over.” Oliver just sighs and says fine to his friend. They join the others and Oliver just has a notebook he tries to at first follow everyone and after the first hour Oliver has just mentally closed off this group as he’s been doodling. It takes a hand to his thigh to get him to stir back to present time.

“I brought you a drink. You’ve been creating a really cool masked man, is that a bow?” Oliver looks down to his artwork and doesn’t really know why he drew this. “Well I think its cool. Not much into archery. Well… Not into many sports.”

“I’ve actually done some archery when I was younger.”

“I’m sorry about earlier. It was bad manners and I’m am sorry.”

He doesn’t know what to say so he nods and thanks her for the drink. Somehow from there on he enters the conversation with the group and finds himself walking the remarkable girl who grew on him this bizarre night.

They find themselves in a coffeeshop and there really is no topic off limits. Somehow dating became the subject and within the confides of what they’re talking about she off handily says, “Can you wait for me?”

“If your okay waiting about a week.”

“Huh?”

Seeing her confusion, he’d like to ditch the week thing but he decides to do something different tell her a truth, “I hate that I’m going to say this.” He huffs, “But I’m in a cooling period.”

“Oh! Though you gave yourself a week to figure out things with a girl?”

“What? No. I… I really don’t know much about this cooling off period thing but I’m not in a relationship. I messed up royally.”

“Do you want her back? Maybe talking to someone who isn’t Tommy would do you good.”

“Funny thing is I couldn’t fully ever break up with her.”

“Maybe there is something there. You really do need a cooling off period then.”

“Actually, you don’t understand. I’m not a good boyfriend.” Moaning, “I’ve cheated on her numerous times and yet she’d be disappointed but she’d take me back and the process would continue.”

“Hmm… It seems you are wondering if you a serial cheater? How many other girls have you cheated on?”

“I actually haven’t had many girlfriends. Other than Laurel they were all short lived and I guess no time to cheat.”

“Then you need to tell yourself what makes Laurel different than these girls?”

He doesn’t need time to answer because it flows through his lips, “Because she keeps my mom off my back.” Hearing Felicity making a displeased tone he needs to add, “Yea, I don’t think I need a longer cooling off period to figure that Laurel and I aren’t right for one another.”

“Okay, step one is figuratively figured out. Now you need time to reckon out what you want, to feel your own emotions, and to work on the next two things.”

“There’s more?”

“A week won’t solve anything but if you actually take the time.”

“If I take the time? Like another week?”

“I have no idea. It could take a week, a month.”

He blurts out, “Five years?”

“God, no. Five years would feel like a lifetime.”

Oliver just looks at the girl that is truly different like Tommy said. They keep talking and talking and after a week make it two, they’re still talking. Conversations that last longer as seasons change. Time may pass as they exchange heartfelt dialogue to one another in front of friends and family. Arguments over baby names. Sharing milestone anniversaries.

Although Oliver makes sure to have all the assorted chips under the sun. To him it commemorates one of the best celebrations as for one evening every year they host “Nerdapoolza.” From that one-day years ago every chat with Felicity has pushed him further to accept his situation and commit to change. He is this gleeful man today because he is loved and is loving the best part of him, his amazing tenacious wife.

***Thanks for reading as I try as I might to get all these stories out as soon as I can. It’s been a struggle at times. I have 4 more to go.Thank you all for reading!!!

#fictober19 #olicity #arrow #oliver queen #felicity smoak #thomas merlyn

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