#i cannot emphasize to you how much dread and panic i felt running away from postal dude

[demonir]

Ok I'm gonna tell y'all a horribly embarrassing dream I had last night but don't laugh at me too hard ok?

I had a dream I was at a wedding for some reason but didn't know anyone there and yet I was vibing and doing shit and then suddenly somehow I turn into the bride and I do not question this I am just standing at the altar wearing the white dress and thinking "damn I wonder who my husband or wife is gonna be :D" because I'm a goddamn fool

And then who shows up? motherfucking postal dude that's who

I legit tried to run away from the wedding I remember he was chasing me and shit and in my head I'm like "oh god oh fuck no I don't want this oh my fucking god" and then the dream ends and turns into something else (I ended up fighting aliens in a basement after that)

[unknownauthor]

Captivated

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x OC!Reader

Warnings: kidnapping, murder, violence, smut, toxic relationships, abuse, abusive childhood, trauma

Summary: Billy Hargrove is a killer, hell bent on revenge. Layla Gonzalez is a college student with a dark and cloudy past. When Layla is taken hostage and forced to work with Billy in order to survive, will they be able to get passed their differences, and see the people behind the scars? A stalker seeks to finish something Layla started a long time ago. When they come head to head, will Billy protect her? Or will he add another victim to his list?

A/N: I’ve tried this AU before and it never felt quite right. I’m hoping with Billy I may be able to pull it off because I love the idea and the potential of a good thriller. Please, please leave comments. Let me know what you think. Is this something I should continue? Also, all the younger kids in stranger things are 16 and 17 for the purpose of this fic. Thank you

Part 2

Something crawled over my skin as i left my last class for the night. It wasn’t physical, but i could feel it. Trepidation, fear, something was coming for me and I wouldn’t be able to stop it.

I usually never walked home from class, but my car was in the shop getting fixed and I only lived a couple blocks away. I decided to hoof it. Why not? It was summer, the sun was only just setting and nothing bad ever seemed to happen in my little town of Hawkins, Indiana.

Cars buzz past me, I barely pay attention, focused instead on the quiet evening I had planned at home. A night of romance novels and chocolate ice cream, maybe the Goonies if I was feeling up to it. I didn’t have any friends, with my condition, being the way it was, I couldn’t. If I got them, they would eventually give up, having only come to my aid to try and help bring me out of myself. They would give up before they even got to know me.

I didn’t notice the car trailing me. Not until it was right up beside me. The driver honked, startling me. I turned in time to see the driver roll the passenger side window down. He leaned over and flashed a friendly smile my way.

“Need a ride?” he asks me. I shake my head.

“No. I’m only a few blocks down.” he shrugs his shoulders.

“I can drop you off, it’s not a problem.” he smiles again. It’s disarming. He doesn’t look like a bad guy either. He has golden brown curls, cut in the style of a mullet, thick black eye brows and light blue eyes, framed in long dark lashes. He wore a faded denim jacket, dark red flannel, half buttoned and a silver ring on is middle finger. His baby faced looks made me feel safe. He couldn’t be that much older than me. I smile shyly and reach for the door handle, ignoring the voice in the back of my mind, screaming at me not to.

“Okay.” he grins, sitting back as I open the door and hop into his blue camaro. It’s nice inside, clean. I’m relieved to see it’s clean, germs give me panic attacks. “Thank you.” I say as I slam the door.

“Not a problem.” he says, pulling away from the curb. We drive in silence for a bit, i watch the street signs, waiting for my road to come up.

“You can turn here.” he ignores me. I turn my head to look at him. His eyes have narrowed, fists white knuckles on the steering wheel. Dread instantly pools in my belly. “You missed my turn.” I squeak quietly. He smirks, turning to meet my gaze.

“Now you knew better than to get into a car with a stranger.” I open my mouth in a silent scream as he child safety locks my door and speeds down the road. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Where are you taking me?” I ask him, my voice is quiet. I feel numb. This cannot be happening. This isn’t real.

“I need your help.” he says. “You help me and once I’m in the clear I’ll let you go.”

“What do you need my help with?” he pulls onto the bypass, taking us out of Hawkins. My nails dig into the fabric of my jeans, my anxiety beginning to rise within me. Before he can answer we see flashing lights ahead. Some sort of police checkpoint. I see him sit up out of the corner of my eye, jaw clenching, he glares at me.

“Keep your mouth shut.” he reaches over me as he slows down. He sticks his hand in the glove box, pulling a black item out of it. It only takes me a moment to realize what it is.

He makes sure the safety is clicked on as he comes to a stop. He sets the gun in his lap and puts on a pair of sunglasses. I look around, no one else is out here but us. It’s late, nobody comes into town past 9 most nights. I’m so fucked.

A short officer with a brown mustache walks over, the man? Boy? Christ, I know nothing about this dude, rolls down his window. “Evening Officer.” the cop leans down, peering into the car.

“Evening. Sorry to stop you folks, but we’re looking for a man who might be on the run.” my skin begins to crawl again, fear making its way up my body to wrap around my throat like a snake. I stay silent, watching his hand beneath the seat.

“Oh?” is all he says to the officer. The officer smiles kindly at me and turns his attention back to the man who had taken me.

“Yeah….Billy Hargrove. Say he might be responsible for some murders and a gas station robbery out this way. We’ve got all the ways out of town blocked, so we can catch him.” the man nods, taking in the officer’s words.

“I’m sure you’re all doing a fine job at that.” I can hear the sarcasm dripping from his words. I press my back into the door behind me.

“Thank you sir….Now if you don’t mind, can you remove the glasses?” the man sighs, he pushes them further up his nose, I see him reaching down to grab the gun.

“Ya know…..Ah fuck it.” His arm shoots out, he grips my wrist tightly, pulling me over his lap. He brings the gun to the back of my head, I feel the cool metal press against my scalp. The cop steps back, pulling his own weapon.

“Drop it Hargrove.” I feel the gun press into me harder.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen.” he sounds calm, almost serene as he stares down the officer. “You’re gonna let me through and pretend you never saw me. Or I’m going to shoot her and then I’m going to shoot you and be on my way. Either way I’m out of here. But it’s your choice.” There’s a few heavy moments of silence, my heart pounds in my ears, his arm over my back and his hand pressed against my scalp with that gun. Silent tears fall down my cheeks.

After what feels like forever he pushes me off, not roughly, but not with any gentle sincerity either. I watch him put the gun back beneath his seat. He salutes the officer before peeling past the check point and speeding away.

“Might want to buckle up. I like to drive fast.” I reach over and grab the seat belt, fastening it around myself.

The Camaro is loud. It sends rumbles of vibration all the way down to my bones. Like a massage after the chaos back at the check point.. I looked around, trying to find a way out. That was when i noticed, there was no handle on the inside of the passenger door. I was stuck so I stayed quiet. Out of fear. The man drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, listening to a song on the radio. The silence wasn’t tense, but it wasn’t comfortable either. "Are you going to kill me?" I asked softly, so low he might not even hear me. He stopped drumming and turned to look at me for the first time since he’d taken me.

"Wasn't planning on it." He replied. “I just needed a scapegoat once I finished my job. Taking you was the only way I would have gotten out of there alive.”

“W-why do you say that?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. He cocked his eyebrow, finally taking off his glasses, his eyes were a deep brown, almost black.

“You...You don’t watch tv do you ?” I shook my head. The news gave me anxiety. The only time I left my dorm was for class or work. Necessities. I kept to myself. He chuckled and shook his head as he turned on his turn signal.

“Why do you ask?” I asked a bit louder. I watched his adam’s apple bob and his eyes scan the road, searching for the right answer.

“I uh, I’m in a business most don’t agree with.” he said.

I decided to push a little further, ��what do you do?”

“I’m...I’ve killed people.” he said it solemnly. Like he wasn’t proud of it, but he had to do it. I feel the panic begin to rise again. He cleared his throat. “What’s your name?” he asked, changing the subject.

“M-my…..it’s Layla.” I said, wishing I sounded braver than she felt. “Layla Gonzalez.”

“And’ I’m Billy Hargrove.” he responded, “You know, you’re the first person I’ve met in a long time who didn’t know who I am.” he sighed, clicking his tongue, “You’re a weird girl.”

“Says the man who just admitted to murder being his occupation.” he laughed, shaking his head.

“Yeah, maybe we’re both just weird.” He paused and then said carefully, "I won’t hurt you."the tone of his voice is softer, calmer, and surprisingly soothing "Unless you make me." He added with emphasize on ‘make’.

“H-How many…” I trailed off, unable to finish my question. It was strange, I could never talk and be this open with just anybody. I usually just kept quiet, and stayed in my lane. I wasn’t the type of person to make waves. Not since before…..

“How many people have I killed?” Billy finished for me. I nodded, glad to have been pulled back from the darkness of my thoughts. He bit his lip, trying to think of the right answer, “If I had to count….possibly sixty.” my mouth fell open in shock.

“Oh my….” I instinctively moved further from him. I focused on my shoes, on the scuffs and the threads in the laces, anything to keep me from going crazy. We sat in silence for a long while. Billy began to twitch as it stretched, it was slight, barely noticeable. Except I saw it. "So where are you taking me?" I asked awkwardly, eyes darting to his before looking ahead again.

“I’m not sure yet.” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “I gotta make a pit stop to some colleagues of mine, might just drop you off at a station of something. Do you got any family?”

“We aren’t close.” I say quietly. My parents barely spoke to me anymore….Ever since Lexa….They disowned me in everything but name. “No one will miss me. I’m sure.” I could feel his eyes on me, I turned my head to look out the window, tears beginning to fall down my cheeks. “I’ve….I’ve never left Hawkins before.” I say, trying to lighten my own mood and look at my situation differently. If I allowed myself to fall down the rabbit hole of dread, who knew what he would do. He admitted to being a murderer. He probably wouldn’t have a problem killing me.

“Yeah?” he asks, picking up on my change in subject. “Then think of it as a mini vacation. How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” I say, still not looking at him.

“Why don’t you get some sleep. We got a bit of a drive ahead of us. I’ll wake you when we get to a place to eat or something.” his words are softer, kinder. It sends my head spinning, this cold and calculating killer, suddenly wants me to get some sleep?

He must’ve seen my text books on the floor boards, because before i could doze off he asked me.

“You in school?”

“College.” I murmured. “I wanted to be a nurse.”

“Huh.” I hear him say surprised. “Isn’t that somethin’.” He didn’t say anything else. And i feel into a fitful sleep, a dream filled with roars and screams of an engine and the face of a monster.

Third Person P.O.V

He shut the door behind himself. The dorm room was empty and he couldn’t feel her presence anymore. She was just...gone. He walked over to Layla’s desk, flipping open her sketchbook, scattering papers, he became manic, flipping over her mattress, emptying her cabinets.

Where the fuck was she? He missed her and it was time for her to come home.

Part 2?

[floutua]

where are you now

This was requested by an anon who wanted a FIve soulmate AU and I might make a part two to this because Five doesn’t actually appear in the beginning and I’m quite sorry about that! Thank you for sending in this request!

p/s: I was supposed to post this on Saturday but I forgot so now I’m quickly doing this from my phone! Regular posting starts next week! Thank you!

“Ouch.” Your friend, Vanya, winces when you step into the auditorium and you nod your head, pulling your sweater tighter around you, shivering slightly despite the rather warm air in the auditorium. She wraps an arm around you, pulling you close to her as the two of you head towards the stage. “On a scale of one to ten, how cold are you today?”

You furrow your eyebrows at her question, holding on to your violin case tightly. “About an 8.” You tell her flatly and Vanya shakes her head. The pity looks you have been getting while on your way to college almost made you want to turn around and go back home but as much as you would love to do just that, you absolutely could not. Today is the last day of rehearsals and you really cannot afford to miss this lest you want to mess up your performance tomorrow.

“That’s really bad.” Vanya agrees; she knew how that felt. She had been in the exact situation before she had stumbled upon Leonard, literally (however this is a different story altogether) and Vanya was always seen wearing very, very thick clothes due to how cold she felt all the time. “I hope you can meet your soulmate soon.” Vanya whispers as she releases you from her hold and you smile at her, reaching over to squeeze her hand appreciatively. Vanya smiles back at you and you drop her hand, moving over to where your seat is.

You often wonder where and when you will be able to meet your soulmate. It was not always a guaranteed happy ending (take your mum for example; ever since your dad passed away, she is always feeling a tad bit too warm or a tad bit too cold – there was no in between for her) but despite that, you still want to find out who your soulmate is: mostly because you want to give him or her an earful for always leaving you feeling extremely cold!

There was an instance where you had felt that warmth from being in the same vicinity as you but unfortunately, that day had been one of the very first times you had performed with the team and there was a huge audience. So, you really could not tell where he or she had been at that time. A smile appears on your face as you recall back your first day; that had been where you met Vanya Hargreeves – your best friend forever.

Vanya had been a quiet teen back then but because the two of you played the violin, the both of you always end up staying back together to do more practice and that soon turned in to eating lunch together and occasionally dinner at Griddy’s or at your house. You rarely ever get the chance to go to her house – on the account that Vanya thinks her siblings will scare you away, which you laugh off because Vanya is the sweetest person you have ever met and sure, she has her issues – because honestly you would too if your older sister is a well-known rising actress – but so do you.

Once rehearsal is done, you begin to pack up your violin, feeling less nervous after the satisfying runs the entire team did. Vanya taps you on the shoulder and you smile at her. “I know I promised that we would go out for dinner tonight, but my brother just came back, and can we take a rain check?” She asks you apologetically, bringing her two hands together.

The smile falters from your face and you nod your head, turning to face her. “Which brother?” You ask her; you know Vanya has a few brothers, an older sister and a fraternal twin. “And of course, Vanya; I don’t mind. Family is much more important.” You assure her and Vanya shakes her head, reaching over to hold your hand.

“You are family too, Y/N.” Vanya emphasizes, and you smile at her words. “Five!” She tells you and you nod your head; out of all of her siblings, the only ones you have yet to meet were Luther (because he is an astronaut and is working with NASA) and Five (who never seems to be in the country whenever you happen to be free). “My entire family will be here tomorrow, maybe you can meet them tomorrow.”

You nod your head. “I wouldn’t hold you onto that.” You point out and Vanya chuckles under her breath. “By entire family… you mean?”

“Allison’s here with her family – Patrick and Claire – and Luther is on leave! Five had gone with Mum to visit our grandfather, Pogo in Manchester.” Vanya explains and you nod your head. You have always admired Vanya’s love for her family; whenever she talks about them, you cannot help but feel happy too. You were an only child and only had your mum, so you never really had the privilege of knowing what it feels like to be in a big family. Vanya’s phone beeps a few times and she pick up her phone, looking through the messages. “Oh, Leonard’s here. Do you want Leonard and I to drop you off?”

You nod your head and Vanya smiles at you before she went back to her seat to pick up her violin case. She walks back over to you and you hook your arm around hers and the two of you walk out of the auditorium.

Your cheeks are starting to hurt from the amount of smiling you have been doing the entire time. Your first solo performance had ended, and you were grateful everything had gone smoothly, even the team performance as well. Even if you had placed second (Vanya placed first for the solo performance), you were really happy. Today was different; you had woken up that morning feeling slightly warmer than you had the day before and as the day progresses, you were starting to feel toasty and you had been nervous with anticipation and dread. Pulling back from the hug, you smile at Vanya. “I am so happy for you, V. You deserved that first place!”

Vanya chuckles under her breath, thanking you profusely; she hadn’t exactly expected to win because your performance had been impeccable as always. “Come, meet my family!” Without even waiting for your reply, Vanya pulls your hand and drags you out of the room and in to the hallway where there is a group of people chatting among themselves. The chattering stop the moment Vanya approaches them with you in tow and suddenly, you start to sweat, feeling the temperature rise like crazy and your eyes immediately seek out the two members of Vanya’s family that you have to meet: Luther and Five and your mouth suddenly feels dry. “Everyone, this is my best friend, Y/N and Y/N, you have heard about most of them! This is Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five and Ben.” Vanya introduces and you give them a small smile, before excusing yourself and dragging Vanya with you.

“V, he’s here!” You tell her, eyes wide as you try to ignore the confused looks burning at the back of your head. Now that you are a bit further away, you don’t feel as hot and Vanya takes out her handkerchief, handing it to you upon seeing the sweat on your forehead. “Literally – it’s either Luther or Five!” You hiss at her, starting to panic and Vanya’s eyes widen when she finally registers what you have just said. She looks at her brothers and look at you.

“You did say you’ve been feeling hot too.” Vanya reaches for your hand and she frowns when she realizes just how hot you were. It must have been hard on you to be near her family. “I think you should probably get some rest; you’re looking a tad bit too pale.” Vanya informs you but before you could even say anything, your vision starts to blur, and you are feeling very light-headed and the next thing you know is Vanya screaming your name as you fall.

You wake up to the sound of someone scribbling something and you wince as you try to move your body, slowly opening your eyes. You glance around and realize that you are not in the hospital – like you initially thought – but that you were in someone’s room. “Where am I?” You murmur and turn to look at the person who had been scribbling earlier. To your immense surprise, it is none other than Vanya’s brother, Five.

Five abruptly stops writing and looks at you – his stare so intense you almost forgot about the fact that he might possibly be your soulmate. “I have had people throwing themselves at me but never falling at my feet.” He tells you with a straight face and you furrow your eyebrows but just as you are about to open your mouth to refute, Five speaks once more. “You must be my soulmate.”

Your heart begins to race, and your eyes widen as you take in what he had just said. You blink a couple of times when you realize that despite being this close to your soulmate, your body temperature feels like it is at an impasse and you open your mouth only to close it because… what do you say to your soulmate? So, you just nod your head dumbly. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

[indigo-ra]

What the fuck are you doing?

I’m an optimist. But lately, I have this overwhelming feeling of dread that I cannot shake. I am not afraid of death or dying. But I am afraid of having lived a mediocre life. I am finally at a point where I can pursue my personal projects independently and it seems I can never find the energy and time (together) to be sufficiently productive.

I try not to make excuses, but there are things that take priority over my dreams, and being a responsible adult, I put those things first, only for survival purposes. There’s just so much bullshit in the undertow. Every night before I go to sleep, I feel an apocalyptic pressure that haunts my very dreams. I always have hope for tomorrow. But lately, I’m having a very difficult time forming a future at all. It feels like a dark cloud stretching over the horizon, heavy with smoke and dust so thick I cannot see through it, I cannot breathe, I cannot hear through the shaking, panic and chaos and the worst part of it is I cannot feel anything but the pain and suffering it brings. While, personally I do not fear the afterlife, for some reason, every time I try and be my same happy-go-lucky self, it all feels for naught.

I don’t question my life decisions or regret anything I’ve done up until now. I feel like I’ve been the kindest I could have possibly been regarding my failures and personal relationships, I’ve lived up to my given name and have been the BEST person I am capable of being, without having to make any excuses. I want to live a life worth living and every day it is becoming a pre-packaged branded commercial ad as if it was ever a choice and if you don’t fit neatly into the options given, you simply are not afforded the luxury of a life even though we all are here sharing this one commonality.

I don’t understand how anyone who is simply already living needs to earn a fucking living. I’m already here. It’s like planting and watering a seed only to have to pay  money every day to watch it grow up. How the fuck is that fair? It is everyone’s right who is alive to live, FOR FREE.

But no one knows what true freedom is. No one has tasted true liberation without it being sold to them in some pre-packaged format or another. The only real freedom that anyone can taste the sweet release of is oneiric in nature.

I live for an amazing dream. Nothing compares to the wonderful freedom of flying and an open world where the surroundings are welcoming and strange while simultaneously feeling all too familiar. But lately, my dreams are also under pressure. In my waking life, I am a skeptical  being. I have major trust issues with pretty much every single person in my life and, in trying to heal and overcome all the tragic reasons for my predisposition, I keep running into re-iterations of the same problems through the same cookie cutter people. The name changes, and so does the face, but  the motivations and general reasons for the hater output is always the same.  

As widespread and predictable as this behavior has become, zombies don’t know anything other than  the fact they want to eat brains. Bringing it to their attention won’t stop them. Politely asking a zombie to not bite you won’t have any effect simply because it’s driven by a basic instinct that it cannot control because it’s of a hive mind. Kill one, and there’s a whole planet’s population left to try and defend against. All the while We’re all starting to ask what the fuck is the purpose? Why do we fight the inevitable? Why do you work so hard to try and have some semblance of a peaceful or pleasant life that’s worth living in a world so viciously fueled by greed and consumerism that it’s never actually safe?

I’ve worked so hard to gain my own independence and some financial stability. Something that has been taught to me as a basic human right through years of schooling, education, TV shows, all consumerism and media combined was so incredibly hard to attain that I had to flee my own country just to have the opportunity for SURVIVAL.

Life’s not fair. We all know that. But I look at these kids and realize the only time I ever felt safe in my entire life was when I was a child. Some people hide this existential suffering under video games, memes, Youtube,and the constant white noise of all the media of this digital age. The contact and social relationships we entertain are as ephemeral as two ships passing in the night. Nobody wants to face the reality of the big question mark hanging over their collective heads, “What the fuck are we doing?”

It hurts too much to think about. Because being one person in a sea of nameless voices makes you feel insignificant. So they run away from the existential dread we all know very well, toward shiny baubles that will somehow make us different from the next person. The question never goes away though. It will follow every one of us to the bitter end, begging for justification with every breath we take to validate the life that is being lived. If for no one else, at least the individual.

What’s really important? Friends? Family? How does one succeed? By living out a dream? If you are afforded the opportunity to accomplish your goals in life and you succeed, how do you  continue to feel fulfilled? Is it possible to master more than one skill in one lifetime?

Not without a fat bank account from birth, and unfortunately, the ones who don’t have to work, don’t see a reason to.

It’s almost paradoxical. How do I master an art or a skill over the span of 80 years when two thirds of my time is dedicated to sleeping and working in a way which is fundamentally exploitative and taxing to my soul? If someone asked me this before considering living a life on Earth, I wouldn’t have a sufficient answer for them. Yet, everyone can identify with this truth, and they all conform to it out of fear of having to face that question “What the fuck am I doing?” with a justifiable answer.

People drink it away, fuck it away, hide it under the chaos of whatever they can find to push it to the back of their hearts and minds, but it’s now becoming the underlying pulse to your dubstep beats and the course of all your dreams, the sky seems smaller and closer to the ground every day and we all feel suffocated and, depressed, repressed, suppressed and oppressed. Even those who are doing everything they can to give the illusion of power feel utterly powerless under the pressure of that same UNIVERSAL QUESTION that everyone is vehemently ignoring “What. The FUCK. Are you doing?”

You feel it too, don’t you? It’s deafening in the silence, and constantly confrontational in every action, deed, thought and word, spoken or unspoken. I know why I’m depressed. I don’t need a psychologist or a therapist to tell me that and push drugs at me to push away what is essentially the underlying cause for every societal malady that is universally identifiable in every single living human being. I know what is wrong. I just can’t fix it alone. It is emphasized that “No man is an island.”and yet “God bless the child that’s got his own,” so we toil at life, trying fill our own individual voids and yet we all fall short, needing the support, love, friendship and general compassion of others and we all feel guilty for that. Because more often than not it’s measured in dollars and cents. We are all trying to be independent in a world where we’re pack animals. Everybody wants to be a brand named “Homo sapien” while striving toward a uniqueness that caters to the widest demographic, and yet remain unattainable to the entire population. That makes sense.... Except… it doesn’t.

So. Sure,  I’m “depressed” but only for the reasons that everybody else is running away from. So don’t call me weird, don’t call me crazy, don’t call me strange or try and put me in some tragic, ironic angsty trendy category, simply because I am facing up to a zeitgeist Tsunami of emotional crisis with my eyes wide open, instead of trying to pretend it’s not happening; and doing it for all of you who aren’t. You’re welcome.