#i just want to go back to having a normal schedule at one store. god

[writingwithciara]

birthday cake -quinn hughes-

summary: quinn believes everyone forgot his birthday in favor of thanksgiving. but that's simply not the case

word count: 2k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

notes: in honor of the love of my life's birthday, i decided to cook up this little gem. hope everyone enjoys it. (should've been posted on his birthday but i got super busy because of thanksgiving & other projects i'm working on)

"hey quinn. do you have any plans for monday?"

"actually, yes." quinn looked up from his phone as brock entered the room. "why?"

"my sister wanted to invite you over to her place for thanksgiving. she said she gave you an invitation the other day but you just shoved it in your bag and that you haven't said anything to her since then."

"that's what that was? i thought she was just handing me some mail that was put in the wrong box."

"have you not seen her since tuesday? you live across the hall from each other."

"i know but our schedules haven't given us the time to chat. she's working when i'm home, and vice versa."

"you should text her and tell her you're going to be busy on monday. i think it would be best coming from you. maybe she won't be upset."

"i'll text her after practice." quinn set his phone in his bag and finished lacing up his skates.

during practice, everyone was talking about y/n's thanksgiving dinner. quinn was the only one who wouldn't be attending. and while he felt bad about it, seeing as she was one of his good friends, he also started to feel bad for himself.

monday was also his 25th birthday but it seemed like no one remembered.

practice went well. so when quinn walked to his car, he sent a text to y/n to let her know he wouldn't be able to show up to her dinner. he made up a lie and said he wouldn't be home.

his plan was to just stay home and watch game highlights while cooking his own meal.

when monday rolled around, y/n and brock were finishing up the food preparations when a thought occurred to y/n.

"oh my freaking god. it's the 14th today. how could i be so stupid?"

"i would love to object, or even agree, depending on what it's about." brock looked at his sister with a curious expression. he couldn't quite read her like he normally could. "care to let me know what you're talking about?"

"october 14th. quinn's birthday! how could i forget? i bake him a cake every year." y/n set her oven mitts back on the rack. "i am a terrible friend."

"i'm sure it's fine. quinn probably forgot about the cake anyway. pretty sure you're in the clear, y/n."

"brock, i've made the cake every single year since we've been friends. he loves it. you should see the way his face lights up when i deliver it to him."

"are you sure it's the cake he likes to see every year?" brock raised his eyebrow, earning a slap to the shoulder from his younger sister.

"brock, no."

"look, just bake him a cake today and give it to him tomorrow. i'm sure he won't mind."

"i don't have the time or oven space to bake a whole new cake." y/n shook her head. "i'm gonna run to the store and buy him one instead.

"people are going to be here any moment. i'm afraid it's gonna have to wait."

"can you please keep them company? i'll be back in 20 minutes."

"you're lucky you're my sister and i love you." brock smiled. "now go fix your friendship with your neighbor."

"love you, brocky." y/n kissed his forehead and went out to her car. she hated the idea of buying a cake from the store. it didn't have the personal touch that her homemade cake did and she knew it wouldn't live up to it either. but she was desperate.

when she got back to her apartment, brock was the only one there.

"nobody's here yet?"

"not yet. mom and steve are almost here. been getting location updates from steve."

"did he let mom drive?"

"yeah. that's probably why they're not here yet." brock chuckled and grabbed the cake from her hands. "this looks amazing. are you gonna try to pass it off as your own?"

"no. i could never lie to quinn." y/n smiled and took it back, setting it down in the fridge. "i'm just going to tell him the truth."

"that's new for you. are you that honest with everyone?"

"i don't think so. there's something different about quinn. he makes me want to be honest."

"have you ever lied to me?"

"no. of course not."

"okay. good." he looked at his sister. "i want you to answer a question then. i'm only gonna ask it once."

"alright. shoot."

"is there something going on between you quinn?"

"no, brock. that would be ridiculous."

"okay. i'm gonna ask it twice. is there something going on between you and quinn?"

"no. you told me he was off limits for dating, as well as the rest of your teammates. but i would be lying to you if i said i didn't think he was really good looking."

"you really think so?" brock's eyes widened at his sisters confession.

"mhm. i do. like, super insanely good looking."

"okay. well, thanks for the honesty." brock couldn't help but chuckle.

before y/n could respond, there was a knock at the door, followed by a few voices.

"sounds like your guests are here. i'll let them in." brock went to the door and opened it, letting their parents inside, along with a few other guests.

y/n spent the first half hour finishing up the meal before brock served it to everyone.

conversation flowed easily around the table, but y/n was stuck thinking about quinn. all his friends were with her and he was most likely alone.

when she stood up abruptly, it caught everyone's attention.

"are you okay?" brock asked.

"yeah. i just have something i really need to do." y/n walked over to the fridge and grabbed the cake. she left her apartment without another word and knocked on quinn's door.

"hey. what are you doing here?" quinn smiled when he answered the door.

"happy birthday." y/n handed him the cake and walked back towards her apartment.

quinn was left standing in his own doorway, staring at the cake. he was used to getting a cake from y/n every year. it was always homemade & this time, it was store bought. but he didn't care. someone actually remembered his birthday.

y/n walked back into her apartment and sat back down at the table. she ignored the looks everyone was giving her and continued eating. everyone went back to eating and talking with each other, quickly forgetting that y/n disappeared for a moment.

a few hours later, everyone was heading out. brock stayed behind to help y/n clean up.

"what did quinn say when you gave him the cake?"

"how did you know that's what i did?"

"you were beating yourself up over missing his birthday. and you left right after i told mom about quinn's goal the other night."

"i wasn't even paying attention to the conversations around me. all i could think about was how quinn's friends were here and nobody mentioned his birthday. i felt bad so i took the cake to him."

"and what did he say?"

"i have no idea. i came right back over here." y/n finished washing the last dish and handed it to brock so he could dry it.

"maybe you should go see him right now. i'm sure he would appreciate some company for the last little bit of his birthday. Oh, and take him some leftovers. dinner was delicious and i guarantee he'll love it." brock grabbed a plate and put all the food he could fit onto it. when he handed it to his sister, she hesitated. "take it to him, y/n. you can't keep beating yourself up over forgetting his birthday."

"you're right." she took the plate and walked to the door. "i'll be back."

"i'll be here." brock chuckled and started putting away the rest of the leftovers.

y/n knocked on quinn's door and waited patiently. when he opened it, she handed him the plate. he looked at her and smiled.

"what's this for?"

"thought you might like some leftovers from today."

"oh. well thank you. smells delicious." he set the plate on the table by the door. "would you like to come in? or do you still have company over there?"

"just brock." y/n smiled and walked into his apartment. "so, how was your birthday?"

"it was good. i got to have breakfast with my parents and then i went to the gym for a bit. then i got a cake delivered to me. it was amazing, by the way."

"really?" y/n smiled. "i'm sorry it wasn't homemade this year. i'm ashamed to admit that i briefly forgot about your birthday and i didn't have enough time to bake you a cake. but i can make up for it if you want."

"look, it doesn't matter to me whether it was homemade or store bought. all i care about is the company that comes with it each year." quinn smiled. "also, thank you for stopping by today. i thought everyone forgot my birthday."

"but quinn, i did forget."

"you remembered eventually. that's all that matters to me. things like that stand out and i appreciate it. more than you think." he sighed. "other than my parents, you're the only one who remembered. so, thank you."

"you're welcome. and i promise i'll make up for almost missing your 25th birthday."

"you don't have to. you're here now. and honestly, your company is the only thing i wanted this year."

"wait, really?"

"yeah. it's the one thing i look forward to for every birthday, no matter how brief it is."

"are you serious?"

"yes. very serious." quinn hesitantly reached for y/n's hand and when she didn't yank it away, he slowly intertwined his fingers with hers. "i'm not sure if you can tell but i like you. i've liked you since the first second i saw you move in across the hall. but unfortunately, i can't do anything about this."

"and why not?" y/n was confused. she liked quinn and it was becoming evident he liked her too. but she didn't understand why nothing could happen.

"you're brock's little sister. it wouldn't be right. it just-"

quinn was unable to finish his sentence. he was pulled forward and y/n's lips were placed on his, softly.

"what was that for?" he asked when y/n pulled away from the kiss.

"your birthday present, dummy." y/n smiled. "and because i like you, quinn."

"you....you do?"

"yes. i don't bake a cake for anyone else's birthday, you know."

"but what about brock?" quinn looked all over her face.

"i'm 24 years old, quinn. brock can't tell me who i can and can't have feelings for." y/n smiled and leaned closer. "besides, i think he actually wants us to be together."

"what makes you say that?"

"he kept encouraging me to come over here to see you. even gave me the plate so i'd have a reason to come over here." she glanced at quinn. "not that i didn't already have a really good reason to come and see you tonight anyway."

"i'm really glad you came over tonight. and kissed me." quinn smirked. "god, i sound like a freaking teenager when he gets his very first girlfriend."

"it's cute." y/n smiled and looked at where her leg touched his. "i think i know the answer to this, but are you enjoying your birthday?"

"i really am." he couldn't help the smile that came upon his face. "i'm still trying to get over the initial shock of you liking me back."

"it's the same for me. guess we can figure it out together, huh?"

"yeah. i guess we can." quinn held her hand and looked at her fingers. "is every part of you just perfect?"

"yes. i do believe every part of me is perfect. perfect in my own special way."

quinn chuckled at the girl he oh so admired. "would it be alright if i kissed you?"

"quinn, you know you don't have to ask." y/n smiled and gave quinn what he wanted. really, what they both wanted.

[loulovingho]

Bucktommy prompt: Tommy is dealing with chronic pain and Buck helps him through it.

Part 3 of my injured Tommy fic

If Tommy were being honest, there were some positives to being paralyzed. The first time he'd told Evan as much, he'd stared back at him with eyebrows raised and a face that said, “I can't wait to see where this is going.”

So Tommy had gone through the list he'd made in his head.

1. He always got the best parking spots.

2. Little old ladies now helped him in the grocery store.

3. People were constantly opening doors for him.

4. He'd get to board first on a plane... as soon as he and Evan figured out where they were going to go for their honeymoon.

5. Sometimes people let him cut in line.

6. He'd learned how to do some sick ass wheelies!

Buck had laughed along with his list, even adding a few himself.

7. Bigger hotel rooms.

8. Tommy's biceps were larger than Buck thought humanly possible.

9. If Buck got tired of walking, he could just sit on Tommy's lap and get a free ride.

And while these things were all good and true, there were plenty of things that made Tommy's new life far more difficult.

One of which were the body spasms.

He'd been warned about them in the hospital. Had a few of them before he'd been discharged. Learned how to deal with them, for the most part, through physical therapy. He'd also been put on muscle relaxants, sleeping pills, and antidepressants.

Which really only caused more problems, because he spent the better part of a month feeling so doped up that he was asleep more than he was awake.

His doctors changed doses and moved around schedules, trying to find the perfect balance, but Tommy hated the pills no matter what.

They didn't only impact his day to day life, but also his ability and desire for sex.

And God, as his body recovered and he and Buck settled into their new normal, he really wanted to want to have sex.

Adjustments already had to be made do to the reduction of sensation he felt around his pelvis. Things got weaker and weaker from there, reduced to no feeling at all in his legs.

They'd had their quickie wedding at the courthouse in February, followed by a ceremony with family the next month, and started planning a honeymoon in the summer. And that's when Tommy decided he was going to cut back on some of his medications, and cut others out completely. He was not going to spend his honeymoon in a half daze, not caring whether or not his drop dead gorgeous husband was naked on top of him.

Buck had protested at first. He'd made it clear that sex didn't mean everything to him. The things they still did do were pretty damn great, and it wasn't worth Tommy being in pain.

But Tommy insisted.

So they'd met with his doctors and come up with a plan. He could go off the sleeping pills, taking them only when needed. They'd reduce the antidepressant in increments. And muscle relaxants could be used as needed as well.

For the most part, everything went fairly smoothly. His spasticity would rear its ugly head from time to time, but it wasn't anything unmanageable.

Until, one night, it was.

He should have known it was going to be a bad night. He'd been restless and uncomfortable all day long. He'd go from his wheelchair, to the couch, to the wheelchair, to the dining room chair, to the wheelchair, to the bed, then back to the wheelchair.

He'd tried wheeling around the neighborhood, usually enjoying using his arms to push himself around, but today he just felt stiff.

The muscle relaxants in the kitchen cabinet had been calling his name, but he'd resisted. Evan was coming off a forty-eight hour shift tonight, and he'd already texted Tommy a picture of himself all sweaty, no shirt on, telling him he was gonna get himself all cleaned up for Tommy.

And Tommy wanted nothing more than to give him everything he wanted, because he wanted it too. Which was a damn good feeling to have back.

He hoped that sex would help his body relax.

It didn't.

He'd gotten through it though, with a few little twinges of pain in his chest and back. Nothing too severe. And with Buck on top of him, his body flushed red, head tossed back and mouth hanging open, the pleasure overrode the pain.

It didn't get really bad until after Buck had fallen asleep. Tommy wasn't sure how long he laid there, trying to stay as still as possible so he didn't wake Evan.

Even as the pain started to radiate up his back, he clenched his teeth to keep himself from groaning.

Then it went to his chest, causing his breath to hitch. The spasm made his back arch off the bed. If it didn't hurt so bad, he would have made some sort of exorcist joke.

His hands gripped onto the fitted sheet and he could feel a vibration.

His legs were probably shaking. He couldn't feel it, but it always happened when he had these spasms, even the minor ones.

He couldn't hardly get a breath. Not while fighting to be quiet. Not while his back and chest felt like they were becoming harder than a rock.

Finally, he unclenched his jaw and let out a half-moan, half-gasp.

“Ev- Evan,” he huffed out, releasing his grip on the sheet to smack his hand down on the bed. Tommy couldn't quite reach out far enough to touch him. Not when everything was seizing up like this. “Evan!” he repeated, louder this time.

Even in his deep sleep, Buck must've realized something was wrong. One second he was dead to the world, and the next he was jumping up, tossing the covers off of them both.

“What? What's wrong?” he said, clumsily reaching over to the nightstand and turning on the lamp.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut against the light. He didn't feel like seeing himself right now.

It took Buck's brain a few seconds to catch up to the sight in front of him. When he finally registered what was happening, he headed for the door. “I'm gonna get your meds.”

“No!” Tommy yelled, sucking in a breath. “D- Don't.”

“Tommy, you need your muscle relaxant.”

“I- I can't.” He managed to bring a hand to his throat, hoping Evan understood.

“You can't swallow right now,” Buck replied. It wasn't a question.

“Mhm. Just... Just-”

“Massage?” Buck guessed, getting to Tommy's side of the bed in record speed. “You think that would help this time?”

Figuring out the correct responses to these episodes was always a guessing game. Sometimes touch could make it worse. Tommy was pretty sure nothing could make it any worse right now.

“Mm... Mhm.” His jaw was getting so tight he could barely open his mouth.

“I'm gonna move you onto your side.” Very carefully, Buck turned Tommy's rigid body so he was facing away from him. It was an awkward angle, and he was having to do most of the work to keep Tommy on his side, but he managed to get into a position where he could start to dig the palm of his hand into Tommy's back.

At first, he was so tight Buck worried he was going to hurt him even more by massaging him. But, Tommy's breathing seemed to become a little fuller, and the groaning died down a bit.

So Buck continued. He'd alternate between using his palm, his fist, his thumb, to dig into the muscles and get them to loosen.

After a few minutes, Tommy had quieted down completely. His body relaxed into the bed as he flopped the rest of the way onto his stomach. The shaking in his legs subsided. He no longer felt like he was going to shatter into a million little pieces.

Still, Buck continued his massage. He worked up Tommy's neck, massaged his head, down to his shoulders, his back. He even massaged over his legs and feet, letting Tommy know what he was doing so he wouldn't think Buck had just left the room.

After about half an hour, Buck rested his hand at the center of Tommy's back. “Feel better?” he asked quietly, unsure if Tommy was even still awake at this point.

“Mhm. Thank you,” Tommy replied. He paused, blushing before starting to ask, “Did I... Do I need..?” He couldn't quite get the words out. Did I piss myself? Do I need to get up so we can change the sheets and clean me up?

It happened sometimes, when his body seized up. And while he nearly had full bladder control back, everything went haywire when it came to his spasms.

“No, you're good,” Buck answered, and Tommy thanked whoever might be listening that they were able to read each other's minds. “Think you can turn back over now?”

“Yeah. Yes, I- you'll have to help me though.”

“Of course.”

Once Tommy was resting comfortably on his back, head propped up under two pillows, Buck stared down at him. “You knew it was gonna happen today, didn't you?”

Tommy sighed. There was no point in lying. “Yeah. Not this bad though.”

“And you didn't take a pill earlier?”

“No.”

Buck sucked in a shaky breath as he nodded. He didn't answer. Didn't say a word. He simply turned and headed into the bathroom.

Tommy listened as he turned the sink on. It ran for a while, then Buck was back by his side. He ran a warm washcloth over Tommy's face, Tommy closing his eyes and melting into the touch.

Once Buck had finished wiping off his face, he started on his chest.

Tommy blinked his eyes back open, studying Buck.

He was tense, eyebrows knitted together as he focused on cleaning the sweat from Tommy's body.

Tommy's eyes drifted to Buck's hand, shaking ever so slightly.

He reached out and placed his hand over Buck's, gently gripping his wrist. Finally, Buck made eye contact with him.

“Please don't be mad,” Tommy said, knowing it was unfair even as he said it. Still, he hated to see Evan disappointed. Wasn't sure if he could handle it right now.

But as he looked further into Evan's eyes, he didn't see anger.

He saw fear, and sadness. Red-rimmed, wet with unshed tears that were threatening to spill over.

“M'not mad,” he replied, clearing his throat. “I- I'm upset. I don't like seeing you in pain, Tommy.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to be sorry. Just don't do it again. I can't... I can't enjoy being with you- having sex with you,” he clarified, “if I think you're hurting yourself for it.”

“I know, Evan. I just... I just wanted to be with you tonight. Wanted to feel good. Wanted to make you feel good.”

Buck tossed the rag onto the nightstand, sitting down on the bed beside Tommy. “You know what makes me feel good?” he started, resting two fingers under Tommy's chin so he couldn't look away. “Seeing you comfortable makes me feel good. Us enjoying dinner together makes me feel good. Going for a walk in the evening, watching movies, going out for ice cream, you holding me in your arms, getting to hold you in mine, kissing you for hours and hours. All those things, plus like a million more, make me feel good. Sex is fun, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it because damn you've got some moves,” he said, getting a smile out of Tommy, “but it's not everything to me. You are everything to me. I know we can't always prevent spasticity, but when we can, it would make me feel good if we did. Got it?”

Tommy nodded, giving himself a few seconds before verbally responding. “You can't just say stuff like that to me, you know,” he said, choked up. “I'm a softy now.”

Buck scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “You were always a softy,” he informed Tommy, leaning in for a kiss.

“I'm gonna go get your pills now, okay?”

“Okay.” Before Buck could get too far, Tommy reached out and grabbed at his hand. “Hey. Have I told you lately that I love you?”

Buck cocked his head, giving Tommy a glare. “If you start singing Rod Stewart to me, I will divorce you.”

“No, seriously, Baby,” Tommy said, keeping a straight face. “Have I told you there's no one else above you?”

“I already know a good attorney.”

“You fill my heart with gladness,” Tommy continued, grinning, “take away all my sadness.”

Buck wriggled his hand free of Tommy's grasp, heading out toward the kitchen. “If you hear the front door slam, I'll be back later for my things.”

Tommy's smile only widened as he yelled out, “You ease my troubles, that's what you do!”

[catscidr]

YANDERE DOTTORE X READER JAHEKWHZBAKNA

happy to see most dottore enjoyers sharing the same braincell. even happier to provide that good good dottore content (〃ﾉωﾉ) answering two asks in the same post bc it would be too repetitive if i made them separate agshfjns- next post will feature either childe or al haitham (depending on which one i finish first) (giving everyone a break from dottore for a hot sec) ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: yandere dottore (obvs), not quite proofread, dottore is named zandik in the mini-fic includes: gn!reader, dottore, his clones are kinda there, pierro and the tsaritsa are also mentionned. a handful of headcanons + a mini-fic wc: 1,8k

-ˋˏ Despite what most people might think, Dottore isn’t a sadistic man. He only hurts people if it’s necessary- if it helps with his research- and even then, it’s not like he enjoys inflicting pain, he enjoys the knowledge he gathers as a result of such experiments

-ˋˏ ...That doesn't apply with you though. He likes to see you squirm, to do things that make you react, whether positively or negatively. He’s that desperate and needy  

-ˋˏ He’s a man that doesn’t go out much because of his work. So how could you blame him for wanting your attention? 

-ˋˏ I think he’d be the type of yandere to just be incredibly obsessed with you. Always having someone checking in on you (his segments, of course) to report back to him so he knows what you’re doing at all times, probably the type to have an entire folder with your personal information in it as if you were one of his test subjects

-ˋˏ Not to mention he would be extremely manipulative, too. Dottore is the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing; a handsome face with dubious intentions. 

-ˋˏ He wants to have your attention 24/7, to never have you take your eyes off of him, but he can’t do that if he stays holed up in his lab. Unfortunately for him he's very clingy

-ˋˏ But Dottore is a patient man (he was able to create an artificial God y’know- that kind of thing doesn’t happen overnight), so he takes his time with you- getting to know you, having his segments stalk you (he’s not the one doing it, so it’s fine, right?) 

-ˋˏ You’re just like a frog in a pot boiling water. If you put it in the pot immediately, it’ll jump out as soon as it makes contact with the hot water; but if you put it in room temperature water and boil it slowly…  

-ˋˏ The Harbinger knows your “relationship” isn’t an experiment, but at the same time it’s hard to say that he isn’t studying you. Having a mask that obscures his wandering eyes is definitely an advantage  

-ˋˏ It doesn’t matter who you are, he would bend his schedule just for you. He’s that thoughtful! Since he’s practically his own boss (aside from various deadlines and meetings) he can do whatever he wants. Who’s going to tell him off? Pierro and the Tsaritsa don’t care how he achieves results as long as he gets results. So, expect to “accidentally” run into him more times than a regular person would  

-ˋˏ You’re a fatui agent? Suddenly one of his experiments requires him to watch how soldiers (you) fight and train. You’re just a normal civilian? He’ll figure out where you work and find excuses to come see you just to chat 

-ˋˏ It’s even better if you work a customer service job. You work at a cute coffee shop? What a coincidence, he loves coffee! Now he’s a regular and you know his order by heart. (I like to think he actually hates coffee but powers through the bitter taste and energetic aftermath just because it gives him an excuse to bond with you) 

-ˋˏ You work at a grocery store? That’s perfect, he’ll start doing his groceries at your store from now on (you don’t point out how every week his groceries- without fail- consist of mozzarella sticks, a whole rotisserie chicken, cheap red wine, a pack of cigarettes and a singular loaf of whole wheat bread.)  

-ˋˏ If you’re not in the fatui, chances are you don’t know who he is (he doesn’t go out much, after all) so it’s easier for him to play up the “good guy” role (wolf in sheep’s clothing from before nudgenudge). He’s a very smooth talker 

-ˋˏ Of course, you’ve heard rumors about “the Doctor”, one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers, a feared man all across Teyvat. So it’s a good thing that your new friend’s name is Zandik and he’s just a normal surgeon that works in a private hospital! Nothing suspicious, 'course not

-ˋˏ Both of you engage in small talk whenever you cross paths. He’ll ask questions about you (even though he already knows the answer to them), all so that you can feel seen and heard- who cares about him, about what he does? This is about you. He wants you to tell him everything 

-ˋˏ The kind of person to use the excuse that he had a Ph.D. for a lot of things. You whine that your shoulders have been sore for longer than usual? He’ll get up from his seat and get behind you, sliding a hand just under the collar of your shirt to press and prod at your muscles to check if there’s anything wrong (good thing you can’t see his expression from behind you), saying he "knows best" whenever the (your) human body is brought up

-ˋˏ His patience isn’t endless, however. If he sees that this isn’t going anywhere, that you seem to be keeping him at arm’s length despite your “connection”, he’ll just take things into his own hands. And even though he doesn’t really get off from causing pain, he’s not afraid to make you squirm either

It wasn’t unusual for you to grab a bite to eat with the Doctor occasionally. Working at a local coffee shop had its perks; one of them being how you could make drinks for free and eat snacks at a discounted price. Though you never needed to worry about money since your friend would always tip you handsomely, basically paying you for the snacks you brought to the table. 

Closing shop was easy enough when you had someone to keep you company while you swept the floor and wiped counters clean. He sat at one of the booths, cup of coffee in hand (you started making it decaf when you noticed his nose scrunch one time when he drank his usual order), watching you work idly. 

“Rough day?” you ask with a gentle smile, looking over where Zandik sat. Being quite some distance away from him you couldn’t catch the twitch of the corner of his lips as he sighed, bringing one hand up to rub his face beneath his pointy mask. 

“You could say that” he grumbles, laying his arms on the table, holding his cup of coffee with both hands. The man tilts his head to the side, focusing on you rather than his pesky thoughts. You put the broom away and saunter over to his booth, sitting across from him with a plate of various pastries in hand. 

“What’s on your mind? Maybe I could give some advice and help! Or you’ll feel better if you just... talk about it,” you chuckle softly, taking a sip of your own drink. Zandik’s gaze never leaves your form, his gaze burning the sight of your lips into his mind. 

If he told you even a smidge of what he was thinking you would, without fail, run and never look back. Even the tamest of things he’s thought about you would drive you away. From him fantasizing about how your skin would taste, to how your heart would look like in a jar on his desk when he worked... he shudders, swallowing down the urge to do something impulsive. Zandik takes a slow sip of his coffee, eyes flickering from your lips to your wide, innocent eyes. 

“Thank you for offering,” he begins slowly, “but that’s alright. I wouldn’t want you to worry about it,” he says smoothly, losing the tension in his shoulders to seem more approachable. With the first two buttons of his shirt undone, hair lightly tousled, and overcoat thrown over the back of the booth chair, he looked nothing like the deadly Harbinger he was. Looked like an overworked businessman at most. 

You puff your cheeks, disappointed that he wouldn’t open up to you. You’ve been doing it this whole time, and yet he won’t talk about what was bothering him to you? It made your heart flutter- he was so considerate- but at the same time you couldn’t shake the idea that maybe he was hiding something. Inhaling slowly, you calm your nerves, deciding that today would be the day you confront him. After all, a good friendship is built on trust, and you can’t stay good friends with someone that hides things from you. 

Oh, how naïve you are. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” you say gently, placing one hand on his. The feel of his rough hand beneath yours made you shudder, almost instinctively- are surgeons’ hands supposed to be this rugged? 

“I want to be there for you in the same way you’ve been here for me...” you add, voice trailing off as your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I think you’re nice to be around. Don’t I owe you for the number of times I’ve complained about customers to you?” you say, chuckling lightly at the memory. 

Zandik doesn’t react, not at first. His eyes fix your face with an underlying threat, gaze hidden by his mask. Although you can’t see his eyes, a shudder runs up your spine at the feeling of being watched so intently. Where have you felt this before... 

“You’re right,” he responds quietly, voice hoarse. “You owe me.” 

His words caught you off guard. Owe him? That was a joke! You were trying to lighten his spirits, to take his mind off whatever was troubling him for even just a second. How come you felt your nerves screaming at you to get up? 

His free hand covers the hand you had laid on his, the grip on your skin becoming firmer the longer you two sat there. Your heart rammed against your ribcage, ears ringing from the sudden wave of adrenaline washing over you. 

“You said you wanted to help me, right?” Zandik says in a sickly-sweet tone, leaning forward to stare at you, gaze unrelenting behind his mask. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you nod dumbly, staring back at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He grins in response. 

Did he always have teeth this sharp? 

“Then you won’t make my life harder than it already is by resisting, right?” he adds. You could hear how heavy his breathing had become in just a few seconds, how his hands had a death grip on your own. His cup of coffee was long forgotten; how could he possibly focus on something as useless as that when you were giving yourself to him? 

The snow pelleted the windows harshly, essentially trapping you inside the coffee shop with him. Even the weather outside couldn’t compare to how cold your blood ran in the face of the Doctor; maybe if you had listened to your gut earlier you wouldn’t currently be skewered in the jaws of the shark that had been circling you for months. 

[jo-harrington]

Standard Operating Procedures 1.05 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's a normal Sunday night. You're just going over to have dinner, smoke, and listen to music. It's not a date. What could possibly go wrong?

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.04

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual pining, alcohol and drug use (wine, beer, and weed), R has a minor panic attack while high, fluff, lighthearted smut (petting/groping/dry humping), minor angst, misunderstandings and miscommunication, driving probably a little under the influence, slight anachronism (slapping the bag)

Note: Big note for this one if you've read the most recent installations of SMVerse that I've posted...this is NOT in chronological order. SM and Eddie are not together in this one, we are rewinding back before Closing Time. This chapter and the next one are both a little longer and have been lingering in my head for quite a long time. Almost a year. So without further ado, please enjoy SOP 1.05.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Sundays were your favorite days, hands down.

They sort of always had been, even before moving to Hawkins. Now, though, you had an extra special reason why they were your favorite.

Sundays meant that you could be yourself after you clocked out. They meant standing in the mirror and wiping away the layers of glitter eyeshadow and scented nail polish off. They meant shedding the overly sparkly jewelry from work and the trendy clothes from the JCPenney or Madigan's Juniors department that were definitely cut for a teenage body.

No matter how young you still were, you just weren't sixteen anymore.

You could finally breathe a little easier.

No more Dress to Impress, no more preppy popular girl, no more customer service voice.

Sundays meant freedom.

Lately, part of that freedom meant walking out of the store, taking the most freeing breath you could, and walking right up to your crush best friend so you could spend those last few dying hours of the weekend together.

Shooting the breeze, laughing, and getting to know one another. Getting to really see one another.

Tonight, though, there was just this cloud hanging over you as you stood in the store's bathroom after hours and shucked off the plaid vest and fashionably unmatched skirt you'd chosen for the day in favor of a t-shirt and comfy stirrup pants.

Summer was over, school was back in session, and you hadn't gotten to see Eddie as much as you normally did.

Which, in the grander scheme of things, a lot of things changed with the new school year starting: a bunch of your associate's schedules changed, a few of them even left town for college, and business started to slow a little during the week for the first time since the store opened.

Still, you missed him.

It felt weird from practically seeing him every day to only seeing him in passing or on the weekends.

What if he didn't want to be friends anymore?

Well, that was just silly. Some remnant of fear about the fickleness of your friends memories in childhood. Besides, the first shift after school started back up, he immediately came running to your store and talked your ear off about the new kids that he forced to join Hellfire.

"God, they're such losers," he reminisced with a sparkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. "They have so much potential. I can't wait for you to meet them."

Tonight though...

Tonight was like any normal night; you were getting together after the mall closed and picking up pizza.

However, instead of any of your usual haunts or shenanigans in and around Hawkins, Eddie insisted you come over to his place. Totally normal.

"And we can smoke," he added as an afterthought.

"You know I don't smoke Eddie," you reminded him. "My grandpa and his crackly lungs? I've taken him to enough doctor's appointments."

"Doesn't stop you from sucking up the air around me when I'm having a cigarette on break. No. I mean smoke. Reefer. Weed. Jesus, don't act ignorant Miss Goody Two Shoes."

"Excuse me," you choked. "How am I Miss Goody Two Shoes?"

"Because," he began with dramatic emphasis. "For all of your stories about garage beers and parties that your work friends dragged you to, you've never mentioned partaking in any sort of illicit substances. You're being obtuse on purpose or you're afraid."

You were caught like a deer in the headlights.

"I...I'm not."

And you weren't; it wasn't fear. It was just...inexperience.

Back home you were always careful, even when you hung around friends from school or work; with your overprotective father and uptight mother and two brothers who wouldn't hesitate to rat you out if they found out you broke some kind of rule? It would be over.

So you never got too wild at parties. Disheveled clothes could be straightened, and you could pretend that swollen lips were just a side effect of getting a little sick. You never drank more beer than whatever made you feel a little floaty if you weren't sleeping over at a friends. And you never smoked weed.

Ok so it was fear, in a way; residual fear. Just not the way Eddie thought.

"Hey, don't worry," Eddie said in the most understanding way he could. "You just tell me and I'll drop it, if you're afraid."

You wanted to tell him, wanted to explain it, but in a moment of reflection and wanting to assuage his worries, defiance got the better of you and you told him that you weren't afraid and it would all be fine.

You were going to be with him; you never needed to be afraid when you were with him.

Now though, staring at yourself in the mirror as you got ready to go and meet Eddie you realized you might have made a mistake.

Hanging out with your crush friend alone at his place? Fine. Sitting close on the couch as you ate pizza and listened to music? Cool. Drinking and smoking together, knowing that you got a little bit chatty when you loosened up a little bit under the influence? Uhm.

What could possibly go wrong?

---

The spread that you and Eddie had created was impressive.

Pizza and a six pack and red vines and...and...and...

Eddie was usually very thorough when it came to providing snacks or planning outings where you could get a nice little treat together. Tonight it was partially your fault.

You'd originally planned just to drive to his place after work and the pizza would be delivered, but he said that when he'd called to place the order at Lou's--large pepperoni and a box of cannoli--they told him that the delivery driver was out. Takeout only.

But then he also forgot to stop at Bradley's for soda.

So you offered to go to Bradley's while he picked up the pizza, and you might have gone overboard.

Soda and a box of wine and peanut m&m's and...and...and...

"And you say that I'm bad," Eddie scoffed as you walked in, arms laden with shopping bags.

"Excuse me, this is the once in a blue moon you let me pay for anything, I'm gonna take advantage of it."

Wayne was still home getting ready for his shift when you got there and he simply shook his head at your bickering with a fond smile, then pilfered a little of everything for his own dinner before leaving you both to it.

Once he was gone, the festivities began.

You were both overzealous, talking a mile a minute over each other about your days as you set up for the night. Eddie divvied out food--creating a plate that reminded you of the Peanuts' Thanksgiving feast, overflowing with multicolored candies and popcorn and pizza slices--as you took care of the drinks.

You were a little smug that you got to teach Eddie something during these little Sunday night not-dates for once.

"Where did you learn this?" he asked skeptically as you ripped into the cardboard box. "What even is Franzia? Sounds fancy."

"It is the least fancy thing you can get," you grinned maniacally and freed the floppy plastic bag full of pink liquid from its confines. "Honestly I should have thrown it in the fridge but it's fine. You can put it with some coke; it'd probably taste better anyway."

He made a face.

"I'll just have a beer."

"Oh my--Eddie! Live a little." You settled the bag on the coffee table and gestured to it. "You don't have to drink it...chug a beer, I don't care...but you need to slap it."

He huffed and shuffled across the carpet on his knees to settle beside you.

"Is this a Claire's thing?" he asked, he looked up at you through his bangs.

"No it's not a--well...no. It doesn't matter! My old store manager, Jen, made us do it whenever we went to parties and hung out at her place. It's fun."

"Why does this feel like a lie?"

You reached out and smacked your hand against the plastic, listened to the liquid slosh inside. He let out a long suffering sigh but gestured for you to go ahead and he settled on the floor as you squealed with glee.

Eddie popped the little tab on the spout and the cheap wine poured freely into his mouth; he maintained eye contact with you the whole time, even as he choked on the unfamiliar taste of the pink zinfandel.

When you'd hung out with Jen and your coworkers and friends, it was just...a silly thing. Now, though, it was just you and Eddie; you stood over him with the bag gently held in your hands over his mouth and his hand rested on your calf as he drank. It was tense and intimate and as you started feeling a little hot under the collar, you wondered if this was a mistake.

Regardless, when he'd had his fill, he shut the spout and raised his hand and slapped the bag so hard it soared out of your grasp and across the living room.

You both burst out laughing as it swished and sloshed with a pronounced glorp on impact with the floor, and Eddie collapsed against your legs as the giddiness got the better of him.

"Ok, that's better than a keg stand." He looked up at you and wiped a hand over his mouth. "Blagh...probably gonna need that coke if I have any more though. Your turn, sweetheart."

Then the tables were turned, but unlike Eddie, you stood toe to toe with him as he held the bag for you.

To avoid the tense eye contact, you kept yours closed as you pulled mouthful after mouthful from the bag. You almost felt a little smug; you'd always been good at this, despite how awful the wine burps were gonna get after. You knew Eddie's competitive nature--always seeing who could finish a blizzard from DQ first and giving himself a brain freeze in the process--so you were hoping to last a little longer, hit the bag a little harder, and get him to concede.

You counted down in your head and finally when you couldn't take the heartburn the wine caused any longer, you shut the spout and released it, ready for victory.

Of course, opening your eyes provided nothing of the sort.

Eddie stood there, inches away from you; his pupils were blown and he was breathing a little heavily and for a split second you thought to ask if he was ok.

Until he leaned a little closer.

Close enough where you could smell the laundry detergent and the general amalgamation of mall scents coming off of him.

Then you noticed that his eyes were locked onto…your lips?

Was he gonna kiss you?

You already thought…well…and in the van the other week? When he licked frosting off your hand? You'd thought...

Except that was the thing, you always thought, you never acted. Too stuck in your head weighing and judging the options and if you could just do something about it. If you could just lean forward a little, you could stop worrying and have your answer right?

And if it wasn't meant to be and things were weird? If he didn't actually mean to try and kiss you? You worked retail; you could bullshit with the best of them if worse came to worse.

Then you'd just pretend that your heart didn't ache from rejection for the duration of your friendship. You were already familiar with disappointment; this would be no different.

Alright, that's it, you weren't gonna chance it anymore. All the worrying you did back at the store was enough. You were just gonna kiss him. Just lean forward; just go. Just go. One, two...two and a half...

Eddie's eyelids fluttered a little bit, and your heart clenched in hope, until he leaned away and cleared his throat.

The wine bag was tossed onto the coffee table and Eddie gestured to the plates he'd prepared.

"So, pizza?"

---

Music was the next event of the night.

And the weed.

Funny how all of your anxiety over smoking flew out the window when you were anxious about something else.

Because you just couldn't get your feelings out of your head after Eddie walked away from a kiss like that.

Was it even going to be a kiss? Or was it just the awkwardness of your positions in that situation? Were you overthinking the overthinking?

On and on those thoughts spiraled.

Until Eddie said he was going to get his stereo to start your comprehensive education of metal.

"We really don't have all night Eddie," you said and threw a balled up napkin at him as he fiddled with his tapes.

"Ok, maybe not fully comprehensive," he held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing sounds better than vinyl and I have all of that at Rick's. And my mom's records. You wanna talk about classics? We've gotta spend a whole weekend there."

He put a tape into the slot and hit play and the room was immediately filled with guitar riffs and singing and shouting; he turned the volume down immediately.

"I've gotta give you the whole history sweetheart," he explained. "So you've gotta hear me too. This song's not so important...I'll turn it up when we get to the good part."

Of course, Eddie's music history lesson...started with him.

"Picture this," he said, arms waving as he walked over to his school things that had been haphazardly thrown in a corner of the room: a wilted canvas backpack, a black binder, and a dented metal lunchbox. "11-year old me, fresh after my mom's funeral and everyone she knew was coming up to us but I refused to talk. Wayne kept making excuse after excuse. But Rick, bless him, said 'gotta make him cry.'"

And on he went as he spilled the contents of the dented lunchbox on the coffee table and began the fine work of rolling a joint.

"Took me to the record store, let me pick out whatever I wanted. Of course I chose Sad Wings of Destiny because the art was cool. Little did I know that would change the course of my life forever."

You didn’t know what to focus on and that made you spiral a little bit further. The words, the music, his lips and his fingers as he followed steps that he seemed to know but didn't feel the need to elaborate on were all very appealing targets; the music and his story was what was important here though and you made the attempt.

He told his story in a way that only Eddie Munson knew how to—arms flailing, minute details, expressions and voices and everything you loved admired about him. He took a moment to swap cassettes and crank up the volume before he fell onto the couch beside you in a mess of cushions and limbs and hair.

"I would say ladies first," he began as he presented the joint to you. He then stuck it between his lips and continued talking around it. "But I'm nothing if not a gentleman and I need to teach you how to do this. It's a little different than cigarettes."

It was a comprehensive lesson and you'd gotten the hang of it quickly, but the proximity did nothing to help calm your nerves; Eddie's knee touching yours, his face and hands so close to yours as he held the joint to your lips, then one hand your shoulder as he soothed the cough that escaped you after your first hit, and finally the way he inhaled along with you as you took another.

Want burned in your lungs along with the smoke, but it didn't leave you when you finally exhaled.

You were very much looking forward to the light and mellow feeling that Eddie promised once the weed hit your system.

"Until then," he grinned and took another hit himself before dropping the smoldering stick into a nearby ashtray. "We just dive into the mind of the great Ronnie James Dio."

You rested back against the cushions and turned your head to really watch him; it was strange just...observing him. You had never done it like this before, close and quiet at this distance. Your time together was always spent with conversation and laughter, your observations and mental notes about him done in little snapshots as he moved through life like a blur.

Now you got to experience the simplicity of his presence in private and the addictive frequency that he emitted.

It was nice.

You watched the way his lashes brushed against his skin as he melted into the sofa beside you and closed his eyes. The way his plush lips pursed and then stretched as he hummed along to the music. You closed your own eyes for a second as he matched the sharpness of the lyrics with his voice, hushed and then shrill, and then hushed again.

And when you opened them back up to watch him some more, he was watching you and practically vibrating.

Your heart skipped a beat...

"Sweetheart," he reached out and touched your wrist. "You ok?"

Wait...he wasn't vibrating.

You were.

Then you noticed that your heart skipped many beats, then the beats suddenly tripled, and then it all slowed again, pounding harder and faster in your chest than you believed to be possible.

Did your chest hurt? Or were you imagining it?

It felt like the few times you ran the mile back in high school, but you hadn't run.

Had you?

Your legs felt like jelly. Your arms too.

So you must have run...but when?

No wait, you were forgetting something. Your chest, your heart, your lungs. You had to focus on them first, you needed them to live.

You tried to fix it all by taking a great gulp of air in--if you felt like you'd just run the mile, surely catching your breath would fix it--but you found that it didn't fix anything. In fact, you seemed to lose even more control of your body. You floundered, breathing heavily over and over, quicker and quicker to try and get a hold of yourself.

And the panic set in, unlike anything you'd ever experienced before in your life.

Your consciousness became untethered from your body and you sank deep within yourself. Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Only instead of a rabbit hole, the you that existed in your mind fell away from your eyes and deeper into your skull then out the back of it and into the so-soft cushions of the couch.

But this wasn't sinking, this wasn't melting. This was being buried alive.

You remembered Eddie’s taunting before, about being afraid of smoking. Why hadn’t you told him that you didn’t want to do this? Why hadn’t you told him you were afraid? You were a stubborn idiot and now you’d die here, buried amongst pilling fabric and lost change and lint and a few cheerios that were stuck between the cushions.

You would die here on Eddie's couch...

"Eddie!" you practically sobbed and reached out for him, remembering suddenly that he was there with you. Why wasn't he doing anything to keep you from sinking? "Help!"

"It's ok hey!" He grabbed your hands now and pulled you back from the void, hooked the tether back onto you and saved you from the depths. "It's ok, breathe. No, not like that. Slowly, deep breaths with me. In and hold it and out. Whoooooo."

You focused on the whooshing sound of the air that escaped his lips and you tried to make the same sound yourself. Over and over, slowly as he guided you.

"That's it," he smiled. "Good girl."

You slowly grounded yourself through Eddie, escaping whatever horrible clutches had just grasped at you. You began to feel better, lighter; more centered within yourself but…nicer?

Had that awful feeling been the high? Or was this?

Maybe everyone got caught by a demon when they smoked and then if they escaped they felt a nice light flutter and instead of a heavy beating heart that threatened to burst out of their chests, they felt...silly. Happy. Bubbly.

Like you did whenever you were around Eddie.

Only now it was better, and it was all getting better as he spoke to you and smiled and wiped at the few tears that had escaped your eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out. Good girl.

You kept breathing and staring at his lips.

Breathe in.

Lips.

Breathe out.

Eddie's lips.

Good girl.

You thought about earlier...minutes or hours you couldn't tell for sure...about the way Eddie leaned close to you and almost kissed you. All the worry you'd had about not being able to make a move because you were thinking so much you couldn't act. Here you were now, thinking again. When his lips were right there and you could do something about it.

With one last shaky breath, bubbly infatuation flooded your body; you smiled and said one final farewell to your nervous thoughts, and you surged forward. Your hands shook his away and grabbed at his face, as your lips slid clumsily against his.

Your noses bumped and teeth clacked painfully but it didn't quite matter because the sparks that emanated from your joined lips shot through your limbs and made you both feel tingly and pleasant. At least, you assumed they did for Eddie because he let out a sound that was somewhere in between a giggle and a moan.

But he didn't push you away; in fact, his hands clapped over yours and smushed them further into his cheeks.

He wanted you to kiss him. He wanted to kiss you. He...liked you.

It was a euphoric moment of joy and realization, but your need to put your lips on him outweighed that. So you tried again. Gentler this time.

Eddie followed your lead for a little while as you pulled him towards you; one of his hands found your waist as the other arm rounded your shoulders, and he became your anchor to prevent you from being buried by the sofa again. As thanks for his chivalry, you gifted him with soft caresses, quick pecks, and sharp little nips.

Your fingers developed a mind of their own, and seemed to love his cheekbones and getting tangled in his hair, although they couldn't quite decide which they loved more so back and forth they went.

The rest of you, though--mind and body--just basked in the kissing.

You were good at kissing; you liked kissing. And you liked kissing Eddie, more than you ever thought you would. Kissing under the light, buzzy influence of a beer or two was nice, and it might have been the weed or it could have just been Eddie himself, but this was nicer. Floaty and tingly and transcendent.

The music itself had stopped, but Eddie himself continued to provide the soundtrack to the night. Instead of guitars and vocals and pounding drums, it was a symphony of soft hums and sweet sighs.

Eddie, who often pilfered bites and nibbles off your plate and cited that he was a "growing boy," seemed to prove that his hunger was greater than yours the way he bit and nibbled at you too, appetite growing the longer you kissed. The pace you set no longer fed him the way he wanted and he started to feast a little more; that was a side-effect of being high, right? Hunger. Insatiable hunger?

His mouth pulled away from yours and started to explore your jaw, the column of your neck, the junction between your neck and shoulder. You let yourself get lost in the feeling of his attention, of his lips and hands as he gave and took, of the floaty feeling that settled comfortably in your limbs now, all the nerves of the day forgotten.

Before you knew it, your own hunger grew as well. You wanted him closer, needed more of him now that you had him.

You let yourself drift back along the pillows until you were laying comfortably and pulled Eddie along with you; one hand still lingered in his hair as the other fisted the collar of his shirt and got him right where you needed him to be.

Of course, you couldn't just take without giving as well, and as he settled onto you, your hips bucked up into him. You both moaned--savoring the proximity and delicious friction that his jeans and your leggings provided--and then giggled together as he collapsed on top of you, unprepared for the sudden surge of delight.

His breath fanned across your neck and jaw as he laughed breathlessly, and your hands caressed his head and shoulders fondly as you mirrored him.

He strained his neck a little to look you in the eye; his grin accentuated all the lines in his face, and for a second he struggled to form words. His mouth opened and closed silently and then he licked his lips to compose himself. The next thing you knew, his hand was coming up and squeezing one of your breasts with an exaggerated "honk" as he fell back against the other one and pressed his mouth to the swell over your shirt.

Back into the throes of unadulterated giggles you both went as he continued to honk and kiss and suck at exposed skin.

One of the highlights of the whole night was when he blew a raspberry against your neck; the feeling of goosebumps that erupted along your body and the spittle that sprayed across your skin would be a sensation you would remember and cherish forever.

"No fair," you whined and shifted against him again, both to protest the fact that you currently couldn't return the favor of all the attention he was giving you. Nevertheless, you treated him to the attention that you could, and you bucked your hips up again, only to be met with the feeling of him grinding down onto you.

Giggles began to mingle with desperate pants as he began to shift against you and settled into the cradle of your thighs; he grew harder and ground and rutted against the covered softness of you, faster and sharper, and your body eagerly responded, wanting to be as close to him as you could. As close as either of you could honestly fathom at this point, feeling too good like this to consider that there was more pleasure to be had if time went on and clothes came off.

Sunday nights together were truly gleeful and hedonistic, and tonight was no different. However, instead of snacks and arguments accentuated by the sounds of light-hearted talk and laughter, it was your writhing bodies and mingled breaths that took center stage; the two of you never stopped, only paused for your lips to smack wetly against one another, for your nails to rake through his hair and scratch against his scalp, and for him to grasp at your hips to pull you closer and closer as he drove you higher and higher.

"Eddie, I'm--" you broke away from him and keened, and he responded with a husky "uh-huh" and pressed his forehead against yours. Both of your eyes closed as you felt the pleasure building between the two of you, as he moaned and your toes curled...

As keys jingled in the lock of the front door of the trailer.

...and suddenly it was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the both of you and you froze, all thought of completion forgotten.

Your eyes shot open and you stared into Eddie's panic-filled, pleasure-blown pupils. He shifted sharply and then paused, almost like a glitch, and then he was off you, across to the other side of the couch in the blink of an eye. You watched, dumbstruck, as he panted heavily to control his breathing, and he held his head in shaking hands.

"No, no," he muttered. "Shit. Shit."

You reacted quickly as the door started to squeak open--throwing your legs over the edge of the sofa to sit upright as your hands clumsily fixed your disheveled clothes--and Wayne walked in. You took the extra second as he grumbled at the threshold and fiddled with his keys to look at Eddie, hoping for some kind of...secret conspiratorial smile or...or heated gaze...just something but he refused to look at you.

Suddenly, all of the good feelings that had flooded you since the moment that Eddie had chased your panic away...they vanished. The sweet giggles and shared pleasure were gone; even the love bites you were sure Eddie had left behind stung instead of blissfully buzzed.

And in their place, an acute clarity of what the two of you had just done.

"You wouldn't believe the mess I walked into tonight," Wayne chuckled with disbelief as he finally shut the door.

No kidding Wayne, you thought bitterly.

"Some of the machines were down when I got there and it took a few hours to figure out the problem. Some rusted old part..." On and on he chattered as you spiraled, stuck in your thoughts once again.

You and Eddie, Eddie and you. You and your secret crush...had just...on his couch. You and your best friend, your only friend in town...got high and kissed and canoodled and now he refused to even look at you.

You didn't know if it was the weed again or if it was just you, but you could see stars in the corners of your eyes and you felt lightheaded as the panic settled back in. And it only got worse the longer you sat there and tried to get some kind of sign from Eddie, only to be left with nothing. Such a stark contrast from just moments ago where you were giving and taking and responding to one another so freely.

Giving and taking...was that really what it was? Or did you just...do this to him? Do this to the both of you? Effectively tank your friendship the way you'd worried about since the first time you'd hung out and Eddie had specifically said it wasn't a date?

You abruptly got to your feet and Wayne stopped his chatter and looked at you questioningly.

"I..." you felt your throat closing up with emotion. "I just forgot I have a really important call first thing tomorrow. I...need to go!"

Eddie finally looked at you with wide, shocked eyes.

Were those tears? Oh god...

"I...it was nice to see you Wayne, sorry..." you scrambled to grab your bag from where you'd tossed it by the door and then looked back at both Munsons. Back and forth at Wayne's curious expression...and Eddie's devastated one. "I'm...sorry."

And you bolted out the door, into your car, and back across town to the lonely confines of your apartment, where you would wish for a second chance at Sunday all over again.

Because until tonight, Sundays had always been your favorite days.

Next Part: Leave of Absence

[starysky1289]

Toxic!Sorority!Vanessa X Reader. Dior.

A/N: sorry if this isn’t fantastic, been having a lil trouble writing, fics may be coming fewer and farther between, only because I wanna post stuff that’s good and worth reading. But I do hope yall enjoy this.

TW: Toxic relationship, Manipulation, Gaslighting

“ You did what? “

“ I got myself a job at the mall!! I’ll be working at Dior!! I’ll be able to pay off my student loans easier now. “

Vanessa’s icy eyes stared at you. This job was a bit of a last resort, your loans where piling up and you felt that if you didn’t start paying now, you never would. You knew Vanessa was upset, but why would she be? She didn’t have to spend any more money on you, she wouldn’t need to baby you.

“ and you did this. Without telling me. You just decided to go and get a job?? Why don’t you talk to me! “

“ cause I wanted to surprise you Vanessa!! And now, I’ll be more independent, you won’t need to spend money on me anymore. Plus, right now I’m only working Thursdays,Fridays, and Saturdays, so we’ll still have plenty of time to hang out. “

Vanessa’s gaze shortened, as she grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer to her. You where lucky you where on the campus, who knows what she’d do to you if you where at the house.

“ I don’t want you independent. You should be spending your time with me. God knows why I let you live in the dorm. I can’t with you right now y/n. “

Vanessa let go of your wrist and stormed off. You sighed, turning back to your dorm building. She was just protective of you, she didn’t want people near you. You’d be fine, she’ll get used to it soon.

*~*

You wore a simple beige shirt and black cardigan, as well as some simple jeans. It was your first official day on the floor, and you were simply assigned with fixing displays and putting the new bags out on the floor.

You were going through the boxes, pulling out the beautiful leather bags, gently placing them them onto the displays. You heard the click of heel’s against the marble floor, figuring it was just your manager checking on you.

“ well, if it isn’t my princess. Look at you, working. “

You turned around, your heart almost skipping a beat. Vanessa stood before you, wearing a pink checkered coat and black crop top, along with a white skirt. A bit more revealing than what she’d normally wear in public, but she probably had a party after this.

“ Vanessa! It’s great see you! Yes I love this job, it’s so simple and the people are great. I’m really happy I did this “

“ I don’t like how you’re not home. With me. But I suppose I’ll just, get over it. Never-mind that….don’t you just look gorgeous~ “

Vanessa stepped closer, and cupped a hand against your clothed heat. You gasped, trying to push her away.

“ n-no Vanessa. Not h-here! I’m working….”

“ im just making sure she’s alright dear…I haven’t played with you in a while, huh dear? “

“ n-Nessa….”

Vanessa snickered, pulling back and glancing around the store. You turned back to the bags, red hot in the face.

“ I think I’ll just look around, make sure no one messes with you dear. “

“ there’s security, I’ll be fine Vanessa… “

Vanessa only clicked her tounge, before walking off. You sighed, turning back to your work. You knew she’d keep bothering you at work, even if it messed you up her own schedule. You saw your manager walking over and tried to busy yourself again

“ hey, y/n. Everything ok? Saw something happen with that girl. “

“ alls ok, that was my girlfriend. She just came to check up on me, I’m getting back to work right now. “

“ alright,well, just make sure she dosnt keep interrupting you. “

“ yes maam…”

You sighed, looking at the hand bags you’d never be able ti afford by yourself. You didn’t wanna admit it to yourself, but you wanted this job, needed it. You just wanted to be yourself around people, and not the quiet, shy, obedient girl you were for Vanessa. But that’s just how you were, always willing to listen, desperate to please.

*~*

Vanessa would always come and visit almost every day you worked. Be it just passing by or coming in. And everyday something was off. One day some of the wallets where tossed around the display table, another the bags where out of there color coded order, which put your manager is tizzy.

One day, Vanessa came in with half the soroity. Why wouldn’t they, it was the yearly sale, and they all needed a new bag.

“ y/n, baby, why don’t you help me hold all this. And why don’t you choose something you want, for working so hard “

“ V-Vanessa I have to- “

“ Y/N. I told you to be restocking the shoes, there practically flying off the shelf’s. If you can’t- oh! Ms Shelly! I’m so sorry to interrupt your shopping. “

You looked between Vanessa and your manager bewildered.

“ it’s no issue, y/n was just going to help me and the girls shop, I hope you don’t mind “

“ not at all maam! Y/n. Ms Shelly is one of our top buyers, you’ll be best behaved for her and help her and her party with whatever they need. “

You knew better than to argue, and simply nodded, following Vanessa around the store, standing silently besides her as she and the girls shoped throughout the store.

“ your such a good little helper y/n. Here, I’ll get you this, it’s cute, isn’t it “

Vanessa tossed you a little pink wallet, 560 dollar, although on sale it would only be about 450, not like it changed much. A roar of laughter distracted you, you located it coming from the group of girls by dresses.

“ n-ness will you quiet them d-down…there disturbing the peace-“

“ don’t make me get your manager, sweetheart. You’ve been so obedient now, let the girls have fun “

Vanessa kissed you gently, and snickered, pulling you away to the next section. Something about this job made you feel even more worthless than you were before. People where rude to you, and you where taught that putting yourself first in this job was rude and horrible. You’d rather be home with Vanessa, listening to her talk about the latest gossip, and having someone to ramble about your writings, even if she didn’t listen.

You helped carry the bags and shoes to the register, leaving Vanessa to her own for now.

“ baby, real quick. “

You turned around, Vanessa slipped you the wallet and smirked.

“ all payed for, you keep it. I love you baby..thank you for helping me~ “

“ oh, t-thank you nessy. I love you too, I’ll see you tonight. “

You kissed her gently, and turned back to your work, feeling warmer and bubblier than usual.

*~*

“ Y/N!! My office, now! “

You quickly turned from your work, you’d never hear your manager this angry. You made you way over your her, and followed her into the office. You sat in the chair across from her, trying not to seem scared.

“ your fired. “

“ W-what?? No, n-No why?? “

“ why? You’ve stolen from us, and you carry it around with you like it’s nothing! “

You quickly understood what she ment. You pulled out the wallet, staring between it and your manager.

“ no, Vanessa bought this for me! She gave it to me- “

“ now your blaming our top customer? You were the one working that sector! Give me the wallet. And get out! “

Tears swelled around your eyes, you saw it, Vanessa brought it up to the register, than gave it to you. She wouldn’t steal, she’d never.

You pulled your cards and money out of the wallet and handed it to her, before walking out of the office, and out of the store. You were already sobbing before you even got out of the mall, there wasn’t a bus to take you back to the college yet, so you’d have to call Vanessa.

“ what. “

“ V-Vanessa….i-I need you to come pick me up…t-they fired me. “

You sobbed into the phone, Vanessa went on mute for a moment, before comming back.

“ I’m coming baby. I’m so sorry, what happened? What could you have done? “

“ t-they think I stole the wallet…a-and didn’t belive it when I said you got it for me..”

“ my lord. I’ll be there soon baby, I knew this job would be too much for you. We’ll…snuggle…when we get home, ok baby? “

You sniffled, whipping your face and trying your breath. Vanessa was on your side, she belived you. She’d even comfort you when you’d come back. You needed her. She was the only person who could help you cope with this.

“ ok…thank you Vanessa…I love you..”

“ I love you too sweetheart, I’ll see you soon~ “

[stickofcha0s]

‘Walk in’ Doug Remer x Reader

Doug Remer x afab reader

A/N: I don’t ever post stuff like this so idk if it’s even good. I wrote this over a few days and didn’t really do a read through so it might be messy If u want a more explicit pt2 lmk bc I have ideas.

word count: 2209

warnings: slight smut?? Reader Slapping Doug. Slight Perv Remer. I think that’s it. I’m not too sure how to tag these things yet so sorry if I’m missing something.

summary: Doug Remer walks in on you changing after a long day at work

~~~~~~~~~~

You had been roommates with Doug Remer and Joe Cooper for a while now. They were the only two idiot stupid enough to offer you the lowest rent in the city. With a price of course.

You had been hanging out with the boys after a game sitting on the porch out back drinking beer and talking about how you had just been unfairly evicted.

~~FLASHBACK~~

“I’ll let you stay for only 400 a month.” Remer had offered kicking his legs up in the Adirondack chair.

Your eyes widened. “Are you serious!?” You asked sitting up, clutching the neck of your beer tightly in your hand. 

He snorted taking a sip of his beer. “Yeah on one condition- if you let me and Coop see your tits” he smirked from behind the bottle.

You scowled at him. Remer had been trying to get you to flash them for a while now. He had some weird thing for boobs. He was a creep- not in a weird way though. You had basically grown up with him so you guys bickered about this stuff back and forth. And I mean, No one else was gonna offer you a deal like this, and it’s not like they’d be the only guys who’d have seen them.

You sighed standing up.

Coop looked up at you “he- what are you doing?” He asked leaning forward in his chair. 

“Getting my $400 a month for rent you shrugged. 

Remers mouth dropped open as you started to lift your shirt. 

“No fucking- ahw my god.” He groaned sinking back into his chair, his eyes fixated on you as you flashed them.

“Take a good look, this is the last time you’re gonna see them” you stated coldly.

Remer sat back in his chair sucking his teeth, his hazel eyes burning holes into your chest. 

You dropped your shirt. “Happy?” You asked annoyed.

Coop sat wide eyed looking between you and remer unable to speak. 

“Mi casa es su casa” Remer chuckled softly outstretching his arms. 

~~END FLASHBACK A YEAR LATER~|

You had just gotten home from work. You hated the long hours you were scheduled, you felt like you weren’t getting paid enough. 

The job caused your whole body to ache. Your body was tense and you had a bunch of anger pent up from dealing with stupid customers all day. 

You stripped yourself out of the faded black jeans replacing them with comfortable fleece shorts. You reached for your top pulling it over your head searching your drawers for some over sized t-shirt.

“Hey (y/n) I don’t see any pizza bites left in the-“ 

The door swung open as Remer entered the room not bothering to knock. 

“Doug!” You cried going to cover your torso with a sheet. You had a bra on but you still felt uncomfortable with him seeing you exposed like this. 

His eyes widened and he put his hands up in defense. “Woah woah calm down. I’ve seen chicks boobs before, no biggie” 

He stood there, door wide open behind him like this was normal. You rolled your eyes at him. “Doug, get out” you pointed towards the door. 

“Hey I’m just sayin’” he let his eyes wander down your body, drinking in the sight before him. You took a book from the night stand throwing it at him. He dodged it, a shit eating grin making its way on his face. 

“Fine whatever I’ll leave” he said with attitude. “I was just gonna ask if you bought pizza bites while at the store” 

You scoffed. “Remer it wasn’t my turn to go to the store today” 

Remer shut the door behind him mumbling something about what he was supposed to eat if no one went to the store. You sighed pulling a shirt over your head.

You headed for the kitchen a little while later deciding you would see if you could find anything to satisfy the pains in your stomach. Doug was on the couch watching tv. You were surprised he didn’t have cable porn pulled up, beating himself in the middle of the living room. 

You dug through the panty finding pasta and sauce. You put a pot on the stove to boil. 

“Can I have it?” A voice asked from behind you. 

Your turned around to see Doug leaning against the counter.

“Have what?” You asked annoyed stirring the water as an encouragement to boil faster. 

“You know.” He shrugged.

“No Doug. I don’t know actually” you turned away from him. You heard his feet against the tile as he moved closer.

He leaned against the counter next to you, stupid gap toothed smile plastered across his face.

“Your bra” he grinned. 

“Doug, shut up” you said giving him the shoulder. 

“Is that a no?” He asked. You turned from the pot, your mouth open. 

“Are you fucking serious?”  

“Well you’re wearing one of my teams jerseys it’s only fair I have something of yours” He protested.

You didn’t say anything turning away again. 

He leaned down whispering in your ear. “Please?”

You had no idea what he wanted it for but it was probably for some perverted personal fantasy of his. 

“It doesn’t have to be the one your wearing” he tried to compromise. 

“Remer, I’m gonna hit you if you don’t back up” you warned not making eye contact. 

You could feel the smirk playing on his lips without him uttering a word. 

“Cmon, I know you’ve got a ton of them that drawer” he purred 

“Doug.” You warned. 

“what about that green one…or the lacy black one that has the matching panti-“ 

Before you could think your hand had swept across his face slapping him.

“Son of a bitch- did you go through my drawer?!” You yelled demanding an answer. You felt bad but from after the long day you’d had you were bound to have had snapped at some point. 

He was holding his jaw looking offended.  “Ouch” he mumbled rubbing his jaw. “Y’know you should join the team, you’ve got quite the arm.” 

You were infuriated with him. Of course he would go through your drawers like that. Him and Coop had quite the reputation or stealing panties from house parties they went to, keeping them like trophies. Almost never were they actually taken from off the girls themselves. Why would you an an exception.

“Fuck you, fucking freak” you murmured from under your breath. 

“Look, I’m sorry” Remer came up behind you, his chest grazing against your shoulders and back. 

“The drawer was halfway open and I just couldn’t help myself” he mumbled. 

The pot was boiling as you added the noodles to the mix not saying anything to the curly haired boy.

He hugged you from behind leaning down to whisper in your ear. “ ‘m really sorry. I promise it was a one time thing” he mumbled into your ear. 

You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“Want some spaghetti?” You asked him disregarding his apologies. 

“Please..” he mumbled again hands tightening around your waist.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his touch. You were used to Remer being touchy like this, the occasional hug, kiss on the forehead, or cuddling on the couch to watch a movie. And that accidental drunk hookup a few years ago..

“You smell good..” he said into your shoulder. 

You scoffed. “I smell like work”

He stayed there with his head forced into the crook of your neck. 

“I’m sorry for asking that, I just let my imagination get the best of me..” 

You hummed in response still a little annoyed but you felt bad for hitting him, you had reacted without thinking 

“Lemme make it up to you” he said muffled by your skin. “Stop the stove and I’ll give you a massage, I can feel how tense you are.” 

You sighed. Maybe he was right. You didn’t want to be a dick to coop when he came home too. Plus with his huge hands, he gave the best massages. You turned the dial, moving the pot off the stove. 

“Go lay on my bed, you can take your shirt off, I’ll wait” he told you.

You obeyed his orders going to his room and pressing your bare chest to the sheets. While you waited you looked around. His room was messy. It was always cluttered. Knickknacks covered the shelves and there was dirty laundry on the floor. 

Remer came in a few moments later with a bottle of lotion.

“MmKay just relax” he said squirting some into his hands.

You pressed your face into the mattress as his hands got to work. It felt so good. Remer was so good at finding all the tense knots and working them out. 

“Mmm” you hummed into the mattress.

“Feel good?” He asked his hands gliding over your skin.

You nodded and he chuckled in response.

You let out a soft moan as he worked out a knot in your upper shoulder.

“Doug, how’re you so good at this” you sighed into the sheets. 

You could feel his hot breath on your ear as he leaned down. “I’m just good with my hands” you could sense his grin even though you couldn’t see his face. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm, but you wanna know what I’m even better with?” He asked his hot breath in your ear.

“What’s that” you turned your head to the side to look at him. There was that gapped tooth grin. 

“My mouth” 

You grinned a little shaking your head. 

“Wanna see?” 

Your body stiffened a little as your heart started to pick up its pace. Last time something intimate happened like this between you two you were both shit faced drunk. Without alcohol in your system your heart beat rapidly against your rib cage like it was trying to break out.

He lowered his lips to your shoulder and started leaving hot open mouthed kisses on your skin. 

“Doug” you started to protest.

He ghosted his lips against your shoulder until he reached your neck, kissing at the sensitive skin. 

You shivered at the feeling, nipples starting to harden.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” He hummed against your skin. 

You didn’t respond, trying to focus on something other than his mouth exploring your body.

He took that as an invitation to keep going. Open mouthed kisses soon turned into sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.  You lifted your neck and in the process causing your sensitive buds to rub against the rough sheets. 

You let out a soft whine trying to muffle it with the mattress.

He tsked “don’t be embarrassed now” 

His attacks against your neck became harsher and before you knew it you were turning around to face him.

He looked down at your bare chest “well hello there” he smirked. 

“Doug..” you weren’t sure if it was a rebuff or a plead for more.

He gave you a goofy grin before wrapping his arms around your lower back pulling you closer as he attacked your neck again.

You tilted your head back giving him more room to work with. He trailed hot kisses down your collar bones, occasionally lingering to suck deep purple marks into your skin, until he reached your chest. When he got to your breasts he took a nipple in his mouth sucking softly. 

Your hand shot up to tangle itself in his mess of curls as he started to roll the bud between his tongue.

“Doug..” your breath hitched as you tugged softly. 

He hummed against the skin, the feeling going straight to your core. 

You used your hand in his hair to guide his mouth around your breast. The coolness of his glasses pressing into your chest as you pushed his face further in. 

“God..” you breathed out softly. 

He let his teeth graze over or causing you to whine. 

He lifted his head coming up to meet your eyes.

“I told you I’m good with my mouth” he said leaning in closer.

“Y-you’re not bad” you responded trying to blow the situation off. 

“I could show you more if you want, that was just the beginning.” he offered a smirk on his face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm” he nodded his curls bouncing as he glanced down at your lips. 

You leaned forward going to meet his. 

“You couldn’t begin to fathom the kind of pleasure my mouth brings” You could feel his hot Breath on your face as he spoke, his eyes half lidded.

“Who’s making pasta?” A voice called from the other room.

You jumped back from Remer, and rushed to grab your shirt. 

“Shit Coops home” you stood up shrugging your shirt on, completely forgetting about your bra lying on Remers messy floor. 

“Awe c’monnnn” Remer groaned throwing his head back. 

“Remer I’m not letting Joe catch us, the last thing I wanna do is make him uncomfortable.” you said heading for the door.

“God well leaving me like this is uncomfortable..Fucking cockblock” he muttered under his breath. 

He watched you leave the room as he cursed to himself tucking himself in his waistband going out to join you and Coop. 

He took a mental note to flush the toilet the next time Joe was taking a shower. 

——————

Pt. 2 here

[tillystealeaves]

Steddie Fic- Part 1: Breakup

I don't know what to title this thing, but it's a 3 part story and this is Part 1. Hope you enjoy!!!!

Or read it on AO3.

Steve stood in the living room, not knowing what to do with himself. Eddie would be here soon. Eddie was working that day, at the music store in the town next to Hawkins (where people didn’t care so much about the Hawkins rumor mill), and his shift ended at 4, which meant Eddie would be getting to Steve’s house by around 4:30 because Steve had invited him over, and it was 4:15 now, so Eddie should be here any minute, and if it was a normal night Steve would probably be pulling something out of the oven but tonight-

Steve stopped himself. He took a breath. He couldn’t allow his mind to go on tangents like that or he was going to word-vomit all over Eddie.

Eddie, who would be arriving any minute.

Steve had thought for a long time about whether he wanted to have this conversation in his house. If he wanted the memories of this to be burned into his mind every time that he walked through his living room. But his house was already full of so many ghosts. Barb sat perpetually at the edge of his pool, his mother cried over a glass of wine at the kitchen counter, and his father was�� everywhere. Always telling Steve how everything he did was somehow a stain on the Harrington name.

Besides, the alternative was to do this at Eddie’s house and that… he couldn’t do that. Eddie had been living for less than a year in the new double-wide trailer supplied by the government. His old home, even if it hadn’t been ripped to shreds, would have been forever filled with the ghost of Chrissy. Steve couldn’t make bad memories for Eddie in his new one. (Though he was fairly sure that Eddie wouldn’t be particularly haunted by this conversation anyway.)

And then there was the fact that over the past eight months since the Spring Break from Hell, Eddie’s new trailer had come to mean something to Steve. It felt like… home. Like the way a home should feel, in the way his own never had. It felt lived in, even though it was new. With Wayne’s mug collection and replacement posters tacked up on Eddie’s wall. With music playing or the TV on mute in the living room, coffee brewing in the kitchen because between Eddie’s and Wayne’s work schedule, it was always breakfast time for someone. Steve had felt welcomed there. Safe. Like he belonged. He refused to poison those memories for himself with what was about to happen.

“Stevie?”

Eddie’s voice pulled Steve from his thoughts. He wondered if Eddie had just let himself in or if he’d been knocking for minutes with no answer. Well, Steve figured he could always blame his damaged hearing if Eddie complained about waiting too long.

“Hey Eds.”

Eddie was smiling, warm and easy. Steve tried to freeze the moment in his mind. Sometimes memories were getting lost inside his head- the doctors said it would continue to happen, a side effect of too many head injuries. But Steve swore to himself that he would never let his brain lose this image of Eddie so happy just from arriving at Steve’s house.

Almost as soon as Steve had made a note to remember Eddie’s smile, it vanished. Suddenly, Eddie looked concerned. He approached Steve and put his hands on his shoulders. His long fingered hands, warm, with calluses that that had ghosted over Steve’s arms, his back, his hair- Steve bit the inside of his cheek and pulled himself back into the moment. “What’s up, Steve? You look… less like a ray of sunshine than usual. Something wrong? Is it a migraine?”

Steve stepped back, outside of Eddie’s grip. “No, my head’s fine. I just… can we talk for a minute?”

Eddie sank down on the couch and immediately began fiddling with his rings, his head angled so that his hair was falling in front of his face. “Yeah, of course we can. Um… did I do something wrong?”

His voice sounded so small. Gods, Steve didn’t know if he would be able to do this if Eddie was going to be sad. The whole point was to make Eddie happy- not tonight, of course. Steve knew tonight would sting. But it wouldn’t hurt Eddie. And in the long run, Eddie would be happy. He would be-

“Stevie? You’re sort of scaring me, baby. Did something bad happen? Like, Upside Down bad?”

“No,” Steve answered quickly. He rushed to the couch and sat down, putting his hand reassuringly on Eddie’s knee. (He ignored the voice in his head whispering that this might be the last moment that they touched.) “No, it’s nothing like that. I just-” He had to just do it. He had to put words to what he wanted least in the world, but what he knew was the right thing. “I think we need to stop this thing between us.”

Steve dared to glance up at Eddie, but found that he couldn’t see anything of his expression. His right hand pulled his hair across his face and into his mouth while his left hand fiddled frantically with the rips on his jeans. “Okay.” Eddie’s voice was thick. Was he going to cry? Steve didn’t think this would make him cry. “If that’s what you want, of course, ba- Steve. But is there anything I can do to fix it? I mean, could you maybe tell me what’s not working for you and I can do it better?”

“You didn’t do anything, Eds,” Steve assured him. Eddie had to know that this was absolutely not his fault. It was Steve’s fault, 100%. “It’s just… when two people want different things out of a relationship, someone’s going to end up unhappy. And I don’t want to ever make you unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy!” Eddie protested. He looked up and even through his hair, Steve could see his eyes were red and wet. Steve looked down at the floor. “Are you unhappy? What am I doing to make you unhappy?”

Steve swallowed past the burning lump in his throat. He really hadn’t expected Eddie to put up a fight. He had expected him to agree, maybe give him a parting hug or maybe say that he was relieved that Steve hadn’t made Eddie have to do this himself. He had hoped that Eddie would say they could still be friends, or at minimum be cool with each other for the sake of the kids. But if this is what Eddie needed from him, he could spell it out.

“You’re not doing anything to make me unhappy. Look, I talked to Robin about this a lot, trying to figure out the best way to handle it. She said I couldn’t keep avoiding it by just wishing that we could stay this way forever. Sometimes, one person in a relationship just expects more out of it than what it is. And if they don’t talk about it, that person is going to get their heart broken. And the other person is going to get sick of them. I don’t want that for us. I don’t want resentment or hurt feelings or- I just think we should stop this where it is. It’s been so great, Eddie.” Steve heard his voice break at that; he hoped Eddie hadn’t noticed. “It’s been really good, but I think we should stop it here before it turns into something bad.”

With his eyes still pointed resolutely at the carpet, Steve could only feel Eddie nod. He heard Eddie take a deep, shaky breath and then felt the couch lift as Eddie stood. “Okay, yeah. Message received. I’ll get out of your hair. Um… bye, Steve.”

Steve didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Even with his terrible hearing, every step Eddie took towards the door reverberated through his head and his chest and his heart. He stayed motionless, barely breathing, as the front door squeaked open and clicked shut. It was only when the sound of Eddie’s rickety van faded that he fell forward onto the couch- still warm from Eddie’s body- and allowed himself to sob.

Read the next part: Interlude 1

[kimbapisnotsushi]

happy birthday aran!!! have some inarizaki hcs let's go

back when they first played shiratorizawa aran didn't know what to do bc tendou kept yelling weird shit at him and aran was, quite honestly, frightened for his life

tendou: "watch this i'm going to intimidate their ace so hard he won't be able to play properly and we'll win!" semi: "okay, what are you going to - " tendou, putting his hands around his mouth for the whole stadium to hear: "HEY NUMBER EIGHT, GET READY FOR ME TO PISS IN YOUR PANTS" semi: "dude what the fuck"

the twins are SO ready to fight and they probably would have if kita hadn't stepped in

kita didn't even have to do much he just stared down tendou with all the energy of "your most respected/favorite teacher is disappointed in you and you're going to cry bc of it" and tendou backed off

(for all of five minutes. then he started dumping on akagi but akagi gives what he gets so what the hell, kita let it slide)

this might be considered bad sportmanship tbh but it's funny as fuck so whatever

LMAO WAIT SORRY LOSING MY SHIT AT THE THOUGHT OF SHIRABU AND ATSUMU ON THE COURT AT THE SAME TIME THE IMPLICATIONS ARE SO FUCKED OH MY GOD

okay sorry back to the normal schedule

i think bc aran's the ace and court captain people try to follow his lead at school or ask him to make the final decision on things and such and he HATES it. it's soooooo much pressure and he really doesn't want to disappoint anyone!!

like no he does NOT want to be the tiebreaker for what their class should do during the school festival he just wants to walk around and eat a crepe. no he does NOT want to choose what paint color looks best for remodeling the garden fence why the fuck are you even asking him he's part of the volleyball club!!!! he always texts kita for help when this happens LMAO

and even if he DOES mess up the other students are always like, "ah, of course ojiro-san would do that!! he totally did that on purpose!! of course it's because [insert farfetched excuse here]!! why didn't we think of that either!!!"

if anyone's ever seen or read handa-kun (light-hearted prequel/spin-off to barakamon <33) it's basically that LMAO

kita's surprisingly good at telling scary stories

not just that but he tells normal stories in such a way that most people think he's telling a scary story first and then he says some totally mundane shit like "and that's why we no longer store our towels under the bed" and people are like. damn guess i'm not doing that either!!!

every day suna texts his sister one funny zero-context quote from practice. his sister has collected all of these and set up a twitter account for them.

gin thinks atsumu is going to get his ass kicked for not knowing when to shut the fuck up. atsumu thinks he's going to get his ass kicked because osamu paid someone to do it

osamu insists he wouldn't tho bc then he'd just do it himself for free

akagi, aran, and kita tease oomimi for being younger than them and make a running joke of ruffling his hair like a little kid which oomimi actually finds really comforting bc people usually shy away from being tactile with him. like guys come on oomimi is a sweetheart i love him so much

[finnglas]

In order to explain my cats' latest obsession, I have to give you some history. Behind a cut, warnings for Cat Illness.

In 2015, both K and I were working a lot and I felt bad that my>our cat, Luna, was being left alone for hours on end. So we decided to get a second cat - thus, Evie joined the family. Now, being that Evie was about 2 years old and Luna was about 5 years old, they didn't really enjoy the Sudden Roommate Situation [SRS]. It took a lot longer than normal for the introductory methods to work. (They still tolerate each other more than anything but they seem to have made their peace, eight years on.)

Anyway, we got Evie in November of 2015 and in January of 2016 I lost my job and Luna also developed an ongoing UTI due to the stress of the SRS. (Between this and the Politics Situation at the time, I was so stressed I skipped my period for almost seven months. I don't think any of us have recovered.) Anyway, so Luna had to go on antibiotics, and the antibiotics gave her diarrhea, so we also put her on probiotics, but the probiotics (I learned later) gave her worse diarrhea, and the stress of constant upset stomach meant that she kept having ongoing UTIs which meant ongoing antibiotics/probiotics, etc., in a vicious cycle. I'm still mad at that vet because they refused to slow down to consider me asking "what if the fact that it's making her sick is contributing to the infection" and kept just assigning more rounds of antibiotics that I couldn't afford. Yeah that credit card JUST got paid off two months ago.

A N Y W A Y. The result of all this is that it tore poor Luna's stomach up to the point that she couldn't eat any kind of dry treat or kibble. Literally, one Greenie treat would instantly give her the shits. This means that both cats have been on wet-food-only for like, seven years. It's expensive, and not great for their teeth, but also Luna wasn't shitting herself constantly so you take what you can get. I occasionally tried samples of kibble that advertised themselves as Sensitive Stomach Formulae over the years but none of them were successful.

Fast forward to two weeks ago, when I was at my parents' for my dad's surgery and Kellie stayed home with the cats. She had to go get some more wet food for them during this time and while at the pet store, she eyed a bag of kibble that said it was for Sensitive Stomachs and had a strong impulse to Try It. So she got a small bag. Texted me about it. I said "You're awfully brave trying that while I'm not home to give her a bath when her back end winds up covered in poop at 2am."

But miracle of all miracles: Luna can tolerate this kibble. We started very very small - less than 1/8 of a cup once a day - and have been working our way up. We are at 1/6 of a cup once a day now, and there has been no stomach upset!

This is great news for multiple reasons, but one of them is that we can now have an automatic feeder which means that we can take short overnight trips without needing a cat-sitter. For long trips, of course, we'd still want someone checking in on them and giving them their supplement of wet food.

We have one such short overnight trip coming up in two weeks, so I took advantage of Black Friday sales on one of my favorite pet brands (their water fountain also came from PetLibro) and ordered them a two-bowl pet feeder. It came in yesterday (love Black Friday being a week long now) and I set it up last night. I tested it at the time by having it dispense 1/12 of a cup of kibble. Worked great! tipped most of it back into the granary and let the kitties have a couple of pieces as a treat.

WELL. They now cannot enter the room without paying tribute to the Fickle God of Kibble, aka Sammy the Automatic Feeder, just in case he has decided to dispense more kibble.

They just had their first scheduled 9am feeding, and both of them ran around like they were losing their minds before diving in mouth-first, so I am deeply amused and will be watching these developments with interest.

[slippinmickeys]

Three Part Harmony (17/?)

The rest of the story can be found here.

The date, Rhonda thought, had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now that she’d gone out with Jerry, he was more persistent than ever that she go out with him again. It made going in to work–where she knew he’d be waiting for her–even more nerve wracking than life in the last week and half already was.

She pulled into her normal parking spot next to the dumpster behind the diner and took a deep, cleansing breath. The dark sedan that had been her constant shadow was no longer tailing her so far as she could tell, and she had been watching diligently.

The dry goods from her grocery store jaunt were still tucked safely in the trunk of her car in case she got a chance to head back to the cabin, but she had not felt confident enough in her safety–and that of Mulder and Scully and little William–to yet try.

She grabbed her purse and headed in through the back door of the diner and on through to her locker, avoiding the ever watchful eye of Fred when she clocked in. Rhonda was only scheduled to work the lunch shift today, and the end of the breakfast rush was still humming along if the noise and clatter from the dining room was any indication. She was just closing up her locker when the door opened and Clarice walked in.

“Oh!” said the younger woman. “Ron, I almost forgot you were working today.”

Rhonda smiled at her and shrugged.

“I don’t suppose Jerry thinks the same thing?” she hedged hopefully. “That I’m not on today and maybe he’s drinking coffee at home?”

Clarice smiled at her sympathetically.

“‘Fraid not,” she said. “He’s holding court and waiting for you, just like always.”

Rhonda felt her shoulder slump, but sighed, resigned to her fate. “Anyway,” Clarice went on. “There’s no way he would have left yet today anyway. Not with all the excitement going on.”

A dart of unease piercing her chest, Rhonda raised an eyebrow.

“Excitement?”

Clarice’s eyes lit up. Whatever she was about to tell Rhonda, she’d been dying to share.

“That couple that took that baby last week? That those FBI agents were in here about? They caught ‘im.”

Rhonda felt the blood drain from her face.

“They found the baby?” she asked, her voice oddly high pitched.

Clarice shook her head, disappointed. “No. Just the man. Joe was in here this morning,” she went on, referring to Joe Watson, one of the local Sheriff’s deputies. “Said they caught the guy up at the Walmart in Rover. Buying supplies. Diapers and everything. Redhanded.”

Clarice was clearly riding the high of the sensational drama and wanted to dish, but Rhonda could feel her stomach sinking to her toes, and she lowered herself to sit on the small bench in front of the lockers.

“Guess that means the baby must be okay,” Rhonda said distractedly.

“Yeah,” Clarice agreed. “Though they haven’t found that poor thing yet. Or the guy’s wife. Hey, you okay?”

Rhonda was not okay. Her thoughts were a swirling miasma of terror and regret and shame. She had failed that little family. Suddenly, the meager breakfast she’d eaten that morning started rushing up her esophagus. She lurched past Clarice and into the first stall, retching what remained of the food into the cold white bowl.

Clarice made a concerned noise from behind her, but Rhonda straightened and wiped the back of her hand across her chin, standing.

“I’ve gotta go,” she said suddenly, pushing past the other waitress to rinse off her hands in the sink.

“Oh my god, yes of course,” Clarice said, her brows knitted together in worry. “You’re sick. I’ll take your shift. Tomorrow’s too.”

Rhonda gave her a grateful look in the mirror, then rushed over to her locker and grabbed her purse and coat. She paused in the doorway, wanting to say something to the younger woman, but instead just nodded at her and rushed out the back of the restaurant.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully paced in front of the big bay windows, somewhat confident in their safety while William napped in his back bedroom. She had several major problems, and no real way of dealing with any of them.

She hadn’t the faintest notion how to go about getting Mulder back, if he had really and truly been captured—and with their supplies nearly out and their only mode of transportation gone, Scully and William were in a pretty serious situation; they had almost nothing to eat and no way of going out to get something.

There was a landline to the cottage, but no one had yet called it, and the only numbers she could think to call herself were likely being monitored.

The bottom line was, she was in deep shit.

As she stood, contemplating the merits of walking out to the road with her son in a baby carrier and trying her hand at hitchhiking, the sound of a car engine once again carried in from the front of the cabin.

She whipped her head toward the sound, fearing a return of the dark sedan, hoping for a glimpse of Mulder in the Grand Prix, but what she saw instead was Rhonda’s old Datsun, flying down the rutted drive at entirely too fast a pace. Scully watched as the car skidded to halt on the frozen dirt, and the next thing she knew, Rhonda stumbled through the door and looked as though she were about to collapse upon seeing Scully.

“Oh thank God!” the older woman quailed, closing the gap and throwing her arms around Scully in a simpering relief.

Scully, quite relieved herself at seeing her waitress-shaped salvation, clung tightly to her for a long moment before the older woman pulled back.

“Honey, I don't know how to say this,” Rhonda said, bringing her hands up to cup Scully’s cheeks. “But…”

“They have Mulder,” Scully whispered, hating the awful truth of saying it out loud. “I know.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder sat in the small interview room in the Sheriff’s office with metal handcuffs biting into his wrists. It had been nothing more than rotten luck and bad timing, and Mulder had no one to blame but himself.

He’d thought he was home free–had made it into the superstore with no issues and bought everything he needed, paying with cash and loading the car without a single person in the parking lot so much as looking in his direction. He’d breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out of the Walmart parking lot, the needle of his inner compass pointing toward his waiting family.

What he hadn’t done, and what he was now kicking himself for, was to pop the rear fender with his fist before he got in the car, as the man who had sold him the Grand Prix told him to do in order to avoid having the driver’s side tail light blink out while on the road. And not a half-block from the parking lot, that’s exactly what the car’s tail light did. And was spotted by a local cop, who had nothing better to do that morning than pull Mulder over.

He no doubt had Mulder and Scully’s wanted pictures sitting on his passenger seat, as quick as he was to pull his gun on Mulder and ask him to step out of the vehicle. The man was no doubt now collecting congratulatory back thumps out in the bullpen from every cop in the tristate area.

The only law enforcement officer who didn’t have a smile on his face upon seeing Mulder being frogmarched through the Sheriff’s department after his arrest had been FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner, who had followed Mulder’s progress through the booking process with the searing disappointment of a father watching their kid stumble through the front door four hours after curfew.

He wore the same expression now, as he walked through the door to the interview room and lowered himself into the chair opposite Mulder with a weary sigh.

Neither man spoke for several long moments, the chains of Mulder’s cuffs making the only sound in the plain gray room.

“A tail light,” Skinner finally exhaled, popping his eyes up to Mulder’s.

Mulder could do naught but shrug. “They got Capone on taxes.”

“This isn’t funny, Mulder.”

“Do you see me laughing?”

Skinner leaned back in the chair and rubbed a hand over his bald pate. “Where’s Scully?”

At this, Mulder did actually laugh. “I think we can dispense with questions that you know for a fact I’ll never answer.”

Skinner could only look at him. “We’re not being recorded or monitored.”

“Well in that case, Walter, I’ll tell you everything I know.” Mulder couldn’t help but let the sarcasm drip from his words.

His former boss sighed again. “Is she safe?”

“So far.” Mulder thought of where she was now, marooned in the Tetons. He fought a swell of anger, at himself, at Skinner.

“And the boy?”

“You mean my son?” Mulder couldn’t help but be prickly. Skinner may have warned them about the danger the boy faced, but he also appeared to be leading the charge on bringing them all in. Mulder was pretty sure his motivations were from a place of wanting to help, but he was also in a curious and precarious position with regard to his day job, and at some point, Mulder figured, self-preservation was bound to kick in.

Skinner’s shoulders sagged.

“Is he okay? He wasn’t hurt? At the farmhouse?”

“He’s okay,” Mulder said.

“That was a hell of a thing we walked into.”

“You’re telling me.”

Skinner leveled a look at him and then threw one over his shoulder as if making sure the interview room door was closed.

“It’s out of my hands what they end up charging you with, Mulder,” he said, turning back to him, his voice low, almost pleading. “You’re officially still wanted for Knowle Rohrer’s death. Escaping military custody.” Skinner leaned forward. “But I need to know, how many counts of murder are they going to tack on?”

“Depends,” Mulder said, thinking of the two men in the nursery that William had held in suspended animation. “How many bodies did you find?”

Skinner gave him a confused look.

Mulder knew he would never get a fair shake from any other cop that came through the interview room door, but Skinner of all people would believe him, and he wanted to set the story straight at least once. Trusting that Skinner was being honest about their conversation not being listened to, Mulder leaned forward earnestly.

“I’m not being glib, sir,” he explained. “And going forward, I will be exercising my right to remain silent. But when we left that house, I’m not sure how many bodies we left behind.”

“Explain,” his former superior said, throwing another look over his shoulder. They probably didn’t have much time.

“The parents were already dead when we arrived,” Mulder said, and Skinner nodded grimly. He probably had already suspected as much. “And they’d managed to take out one of their attackers.”

“The shotgun victim?” Skinner asked.

Mulder nodded brusquely. “And I was attacked not long after we arrived. I defended myself.” He could still feel his hands around the man’s neck, the dark satisfaction of squeezing, of exacting the rage he felt at all the injustices he’d suffered while doing the best he could for his infant son.

Skinner’s jaw tightened, but he nodded at Mulder to go on.

“When we got to the nursery…” Mulder paused, picturing the terrifying scene in his head. “The mother was already gone. And the two other bodies there…I don’t know what William did to them, but…”

Skinner suddenly looked puzzled.

“There weren’t two men there? Dead on the floor?” Mulder asked, remembering the way they’d crumpled to the floor when Scully had scooped up their wailing son.

“There was only the mother,” Skinner said. He narrowed his eyes. “What did William do?”

A heavy weight suddenly pressed on Mulder’s chest. “He’s capable of more than anyone can dream,” he said quickly. “And they know it now. You have to protect him, sir.”

Mulder watched as the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he opened his mouth to say something when there was a sharp rap at the door.

Skinner turned and stood as a dark complexioned man in a suit took a step inside the room, his look expectant.

“No more questioning, Agent Bryson,” Skinner said, which earned him a less than cheery look. “He’s asking for counsel.”

Skinner made his way to the door and stared the other agent down, who gave Mulder an almost murderous look before turning to leave. Skinner followed him out and the door snapped shut behind them with a terrifying finality.

[my-ultimate-is-ready]

from the prompt meme (if you're still doing it ofc) “i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know." w Reyes 😈

Gabriel’s back from god-knows-where for god-also-only-knows-how-long, a pause in his suffocating schedule allowing him to spend a few luxurious days at home, so you can live like all the couples around you do. High on your priority list is doing all the laundry your washing machine can handle, catching up on all your favourite shows you swore you wouldn’t watch while he was away, and making dinner together. 

At some point in this unadorned normality, you’ve also got to go grocery shopping, and while it’s not the most riveting of things you can do together, it’s significantly less of a chore with him there. It takes inordinate amounts of fuel to keep him running; SEP created a super soldier with a super appetite. So, with Gabriel home and the fridge pitifully empty, it’s a non-negotiable addition to your day.

But what a joy it is to feel halfway ordinary, defaulting to your routine that gets interrupted every other week when he becomes a mere voice over the phone or a few lines of text in a written message. 

When he’s home, you live slowly—one day at a time.

Out of necessity, Gabriel’s efficiency is unparalleled. It doesn’t matter how organized you are when he is a master at packing and planning. It’s thanks to him that you’ve never set foot into a store without your reusable bags, and it is also thanks to him that unloading the groceries from the car to the kitchen takes a single trip.

Is any sight more touchingly domestic than him hauling several massive blue IKEA bags as though they’re precious cargo?

Going down the list that he remembered to bring—even though you wrote it, you’d forgotten about it—Gabriel ensures you’ve got all your essentials but can’t find the last ingredient you need. You know it’s crucial that when you have the chance to cook together, there’s no deviation from the recipe, no disrupting the ritual. When he suggests the pair of you should make a stop at another store, it’s not a compromise that you’re unwilling to make, but you’d much rather get back home and have him all to yourself again.

“Maybe we have some left from last time,” you say, trailing out as you scour the shelf for the third time, making a showy pretence of it.

“We don’t,” he informs with a discontented shake of his head, “I checked.”

The addendum to the shopping list was his doing, penned in at the bottom.

“Can we do without it?”

“We probably could, but do we want to? This is the question we have to ask ourselves. You know it’s not going to taste the same.”

He’s too determined for his own good sometimes.

It’s not that you want to rush him; it’s just that you know what traffic is like and how a little detour could throw the rest of your afternoon off. If you weren’t constantly picturing time dripping through the narrowest point of an hourglass, maybe you would have a single chill.

But you don’t, and Gabriel is already wise to some version of that.

Naturally, you think of a way to suggest he shuffle his priorities around and get you home without asking him to blatantly give up—because he won’t.

Beckoning him to lend you an ear with a finger, he leans down so you can whisper: “I’m not wearing any underwear. Thought you’d like to know.”

Something passes over him as he returns to his full height. Once you think he’s past replying, he speaks into a closed fist, “Holy shit.” 

“You good?” A bad question, knowing full well you’ve quietly obliterated him.

He clears his throat and assures, “Never better.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about how we need to home before the ice cream melts.”

“What ice cream?”

Gabriel steps away, opens the closest freezer, grabs a pint of ice cream, and adds it onto the heap in your cart. “That one.”

Then he slips behind you and helps you steer towards the checkout, whispering in your ear about how he still can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth sometimes.

[localgardenweed]

Okay I did @vyo96’s HWS Japan map thingy and this is a perfect time to roughly explain my characterization of my baby girl

Now look imma admit he fucks, he can fuck and will fuck but thats a story for another day, preferably December 20th 2024 but we’ll get there when we get there. In short just give him his viagra hes still got it in him

Anyway i like to say he’s a little fucked up in the head and just so done with everything around him that he can only put on a plain face and keep trudging through till he kicks the bucket. The curse of immortality has left him a little fucked up, wondering when it’ll all be over, sometimes wishing he was just plain mortal and not stuck waiting for his country to fall apart. He loves his people but sometimes wishes he didn’t have to be a personified country and just a normal human along side them cause he feels lile he can do more for them as human since him and all the other countries are under the thumb of their governments half the time

I want to say that he wants people to think he’s more in up in the “just a little fella” section cause like he doesn’t want people to know he’s popping his pills, that’s embarrassing!! He just buries his feelings deep down so no one can see them until his friends pull up and hold him down and operate the feelings out of him.

His personality isnt that much different from his canon version but i like to think he is definitely more expressive and idk but emotional??? When he’s by himself like, in the comfort of his own home he’ll let out a big loud laugh over a meme but in public he’ll just smile and say “that was funny”. He thinks way too much about how he looks he looks in public its a problem. He actually has some wit and really sarcastic when he wants to be. He can also be really scary but he doesn’t like showing that side too much so he just kinda keeps it in the back burner.

He’s definitely very self sufficient i mean he’s had like 2000ish years to live and grow bro practically picked up everything as a hobby at least once. He’s made a schedule which he has been keeping pretty much the same throughout the years, only really changes if big like advancements are made like he used to go to the store once a month to rent VHS and had planned days to go return them all but now he just either streams it or has bought all the VHS and DVD he wanted and plays them at home.

He can be very affectionate if he wants to but feels cringe when he does it in public so mostly keeps it all in. But if he had his way he would smother his s/o in gifts and kisses and loving pets and be at their knees wondering if they need anything. Thats mostly at home though in public he just holds pinkies. With his close friends (mostly just Italy, Germany and Prussia) he opens up more a little baby bit, he actually shows some emotion and lets out more of his personality!! Oh my god!!!! He actually…shares his actual opinion/concern?!? He feels more comfortable with letting them see his real feelings and they like seeing it too cause they were getting concerned that he just nodded along to almost everything when it was smth they definitely should not have been doing.

Anyway best character deserves more respect he is the light of my life and i hold him very dear to me. I wish i could like talk about him more but trying to write this was hard as hell cause i cant always express my feelings with words im better at talking than writing. I tried to get some of my like speaking and form of talking into this but some areas could use work.

If any other hetalia japan lovers wanna speak their truth speak it and we can come together and have a meeting and talk about him

[fzzr]

Class Consciousness and Solidarity at Macy's

My first job as an adult was "Sales Associate" at a Macy's Mens store. Among other things, orientation included sitting and watching an anti-union video ("the only thing a union can guarantee is fees!") I was paid just above minimum wage, and I made not quite enough in an hour to afford a sandwich in the overpriced shopping center where I worked. I was required to wear a button-down shirt and tie (from Macy's of course) that I had to pay for out of pocket. Working part time, it took me more than a week to make back just what it cost to start working.

Now, to be clear — I wasn't living on just above minimum wage. I was in college and being fully supported by my parents. The job was just to pay for other expenses. I never finished college (story for another time) but I learned a lot of important things at that job. My time at Macy's was split into two parts. One three month stint during the holiday season, after which all part-time employees were laid off unceremoniously. Despite that I went back to work there for a second holiday season the following year, after which they kept me on (but laid off almost all the rest of the part timers).

Since I was a part timer, my schedule was erratic. I had a default location (ground floor, shirts and ties) but I filled in at pretty much every area other than shoes. The top floor was dedicated entirely to suits, including tailoring. The first time I worked up there, the regular employee explained how his compensation works. He got paid on commission, but only for certain items (suit jackets and blazers). I didn't get commission, I just had a daily sales goal. So the deal was simple. I would log in to the point of sale system as him when selling things that would give him commission, and he would log in as me when selling things that wouldn't. Sorry Macy's, you don't get to save on paying out commission by putting a part timer in suits this week. Who knew solidarity was so easy?

One day close to Christmas I was assigned to work at the regular Macy's on the other side of the mall, at a pop-up gift booth. My sales quota for the day was excused, since I was mostly acting as a greeter. The main department at the entrance was purses. At one point I greeted a shopper holding a purse, as I was trained to do with someone who looked like they were considering making a purchase. The regular employee for purses not-quite-ran up to interrupt and guide the customer to a register. This was fine with me, since it let me head back to chilling at the gift booth. Later during a quiet moment, the purse saleswoman came up to me and threatened to get me fired if I ever tried to steal one of her customers again. It turned out she was paid on commission too, though I had no idea. I promised not to do it in the future. This was an easy promise to make, as I would never work in that building again. I didn't bother offering to use her employee number to make sales. Since she had threatened to come up with a reason to bring the authorities down on my head, I didn't want to give her any ammunition. It turns out solidarity isn't so easy after all.

The most important formative moment for me at Macy's came one night when I was on the last shift. When I was closing the register in the jeans department, I saw an older woman folding and arranging the front row. As I passed by, our manager popped out of somewhere and started berating her for not being neat enough and ordered her to do it over. She didn't say anything, just looked at the floor and nodded, then went back to the start of the row and began again. Normally she would have finished up a while before me, but due to that whole business we clocked out at around the same time. At the employee exit, she came to me with tears in her eyes. Due to leaving late she wasn't going to be able to walk to the station in time for the last train, and wouldn't I please drive her? Naturally I agreed. She mostly said a lot of "god bless you" when I dropped her off with just a few minutes to spare. The train station was only a few minutes out of the way for me, but I would have driven her all the way home if we hadn't made it in time. Solidarity isn't easy, but it is necessary.

The guy at the suits department was a first-generation immigrant from India. The woman in the purse department was white. The lady folding jeans hardly spoke a word of English — I only managed to get through our brief conversation thanks to my then-recent high school Spanish. And the manager who almost left her stranded miles from home in the middle of the night? She was a Black woman. Other employees were fat, mostly deaf, or spoke no English at all. When the selective layoffs happened, those were the ones who got fired. At the start of the job I might not have noticed. At that point, six months in, it really crystallized. I wasn't a "better" employee than the rest of them. I was just luckier, because I didn't need to get off my feet as often to manage pain, could understand orders faster, and spoke English fluently with a local accent. The differences between us didn't matter as much as what we had in common. We were one thing, and the managers were another. The important thing was to be aware of that, and to act accordingly, with solidarity.

When I left that job for another one folding shirts and packing boxes that paid nearly twice as much, Macy's HR tried to make me a counteroffer - they would raise my Macy's wage by 30% and make me an "assistant manager"! Hilariously that was still below what I would be making at my next job, and I told them so. I also asked if I would still get overtime time-and-a-half as an assistant manager and the HR person conceded that I would not. Clearly that offer was trying to trick me into a different kind of exploitation, the trappings of a more powerful class without the reality. It wouldn't have mattered if they had beaten the offer from the new job, though. I knew by then that I never wanted to be a manager and risk the moral hazard of being pitted against those who worked for wages. Being a boss is poison on the soul. Act in solidarity.

[fuck-customers]

God I hate this quiet firing bullshit.

It's possible that I have my tinfoil hat on and I'm too paranoid, but I doubt it.

TL;DR: Am I paranoid for thinking that my employers are baiting me into calling out of my shift or am I onto something?

Backstory: My SM quit and I heard that she was going to be quitting a few days before she actually quit, according to a coworker. I had an issue with her underscheduling me and giving me 3 hour shifts (no break, I don't need a break, it's just a slap in the face) for a total of 3-9 hours per week, even though I've worked there for nearly 4 years, which is longer than she herself has. I went in on my day off to talk to her about it on her last day. I was careful not to blame her and even though I was furious, I put the blame on myself, asking her if I was doing something wrong and if there was something I could improve upon on my performance in order to see my hours increase.

She of course lied to my face and said that no, I was doing great and that I was one of their best employees, yadda, yadda, yadda. And that she'd talk to the leads taking over for her about increasing my hours.

Cut to about a month later. My hours STILL ha e not increased. I let it slide for a bit, considering that the leads were left without a SM and had a lot on their plate and I'm not the only employee in the store, possibly this was just an adjustment period. After a month or so, I went in to talk to the lead in charge of doing schedules (or at least I THOUGHT she was in charge of the schedule, every time I asked various members of management who was doing the schedule, I got various vague answers such as "we're switching off" and "management")

So I go in to talk about my hours and before I can actually get to talk about it, I'm blindsided by being told that I have a customer complaint against me, accusing me of being racist (absolutely not true, I live in a very diverse area, I would not survive if I did not like people different from myself) and that it's an EOC issue and it results in immediate termination.

WTF. Obviously I'm shocked and forget about the hours thing. Long story short, I may or may not have threatened my leads and made them think that I already have a lawyer and am planning on suing them for discriminating me (I am HOH and they have not accommodated me in any way, that is actually true, they have actually removed a help needed button that connects to our radios with a robotic voice that I can actually hear and replaced it with a bellhop bell that I cannot hear) so that whole issue seems to have been dropped. No mention of it since then and everything appears normal and it's as if nothing happened.

I'm not so naive to believe that it's all swept under the rug and everything is fine, we all hold hands and sing Kumbaya, so I'm watching my back.

Cut to today. I have a 3 hour shift today and also tomorrow. I am out of town and have been the past few days and my mom (who is the one who has to drive, I do not drive) is trying to convince me to call out and I am refusing, because I believe this is bait for a trap. I think they want me to call out, so they can add some bullshit like "shift abandonment" or something to the above-mentioned mess and fire me.

My question is, am I being paranoid and have my tinfoil hat on, or does it sound like they are trying to manipulate me into calling out so they can fire me for real under some bullshit excuse or something else?

Posted by admin Rodney.

[omegasmileyface]

The Forest, the Trees, the Fire I: CATALYST

Chapter 1

Let's get it started! This is the phic that @ectolemonades and @attackradish and I put together for Invisobang 2023! Our wonderful artist was @crunchysart, and you can see part of their work in this chapter! :3

For the full characters list, word count, content warning, and a directory to all the currently available chapters and related content, see the Table of Contents!

full summary: The world outside of Amity Park has learned about the existence of ghosts, and the time for first impressions has arrived. The delicate public consciousness could be disrupted by the slightest ripple. Danny Fenton is being ripped apart from all sides, and when he finally breaks, the ripples will be very big indeed.

warnings: none for this chapter

words: 1001

AO3 link

next chapter

===

There is no forest without its trees

and though the roots bind together

in ways you could never see

until no one tree is distinct from the others,

each green needle is a letter in the story.

And when they are blown off, one by one,

they become tinder.

One needle becomes one spark,

the spark becomes a fire,

the trees are gone,

and the forest is gone

because one needle caught too soon.

It is the work of historians

(and naturalists, and readers, and gods)

to trace the fire back to the needle

and to the tree that dropped it.

===

September 28, 2006

Danny Phantom stumbled a landing on the gravelly roof of a building. He bent over and put his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

Danny had enjoyed fighting Ember for all of five minutes. She took control of a little gig at the record store, he showed up to save the day (with the Fenton Fones in, of course. He learned his lesson with her), witty banter, blah blah blah, now she'd end up in the Fenton Thermos.

It was almost a relief having someone to fight. Something to distract him and keep him from being crushed under the pressure of his reality. Something to make his life feel normal. Or— it was, until he spotted a clock and realized he was officially late for a history lesson with Frostbite. The Observants would no doubt be on him for it. He could practically hear them; he can’t even make it to a history lesson on time, how is he qualified to be King of the Infinite Realms?

“Look. You’ve had your fun, you got your attention… if you let these people go, I won’t put you in the Thermos today.” Danny tried to keep his stance somewhere between non-threatening and ready to pounce, just in case Ember wasn’t willing to back down.

Ember rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “Fine. You’re off your game, anyway. There’s no satisfaction when your heart’s not in it.”

“Wow," said Danny, "you’re so thoughtful.”

“Hey, I may be a ghost, but I do have a little human decency left.”

Danny snorted. “Tell that to the media right now. Anti-ecto propaganda is making a comeback.” He cringed a little as soon as it came out. Why did he say that? He didn’t need to vent about his problems to Ember, and it’s not like she cared anyway.

“Hasn’t that… always been a thing?” Ember cocked her head and raised an eyebrow.

“Just go give those people their free will again,” Danny said with a dismissive wave.

“They’ll be fine for a few more minutes. Tell me what’s going on, kiddo.”

“I mean… in a nutshell, the ‘all ghosts are crap’ stuff stopped around the time I stopped being actively hunted every time I did anything,” Danny explained.

“Wow. Public opinion changed that much in the last— what, year?”

“I thought so, but there’s been all this talk lately about how ghosts and humans aren't 'supposed' to interact, and how ghosts are, like, 'scientifically unable to behave themselves' or whatever. They make it so it doesn't sound evil, but… it’s just a lot to deal with right now.” Danny ran a hand through his hair. He was exhausted, his body ached, and he really just wanted this conversation to be over so he could get to his last scheduled task of the day before he could go home and maybe get some sleep. “Look, I’m late for a meeting right now, appreciate the heart-to-heart, but if you’ll just work with me here I really need to get going.”

Ember stood back up, brushing herself off as if she’d actually been sitting on the roof and not hovering a few inches above it. “Alright, I’ll get outta here then. Thanks for not putting me in your stupid soup container.”

“Yeah, whatever. You might not get so lucky next time.” Danny gave her a half-smile.

They both made a move to go their separate ways when flashing lights in the distance caught their attention.

“What’s going on over there?” Ember asked, squinting.

“Uh, hopefully something that won’t be my problem,” Danny responded.

White vehicles had surrounded what looked to be the Dairy King on the edge of town. There was a moment of chaos as people in body armor rushed into the building and others ran out.

The pair glanced at each other, silently deciding that this wasn’t something they should get involved in.

“See ya, babypop,” Ember said with a mocking salute to Danny. She headed back in the direction of the record store while Danny gave the Dairy King one last, lingering look before leaving.

===

===

Four in custody following Dairy King raid

Tiffany Snow | Staff Reporter

The Garrison Irving Walker Commission took four ghostly employees into custody following a raid at the Amity Park Dairy King Thursday.

The GIW discovered the four ghosts employed at Dairy King during routine patrols of Amity Park. GIW operatives raided the restaurant Thursday evening and took them into custody.

“By incorporating themselves into human society, ectoplasmic entities give the public a false idea that they can trust them like humans. They are posing as employees at businesses around town, high school students and who knows what else,” Operative Q, a senior operative with the GIW, said.

No current law explicitly forbids ghosts from working in customer service, but given that they are unable to legally obtain the required paperwork to be employed, the situation at the Dairy King is being investigated. There is currently no policy in place defining ghosts and their relation to living things. In addition, the GIW deemed their employment unsafe to the public. A GIW representative said the entities will be used for research and disposed of.

Dairy King management offered no comment regarding awareness of the employees being ghosts during the hiring process. The restaurant will be closed temporarily due to short staffing.

[marshbarks]

what are your building blocks Kyle headcanons?

YES YES oh i'm in love with him hangg on - some of this also rings true with our normal kyle so if you see overlap later that's why!! :3 also sorry for so much stan mentioning, these two ARE sort of sewn at the hip.

stan thinks that he's tying kyle down, keeping him from his dreams or whatever- but honestly, kyle finds helping him out really good for him? he's looking into doing psychological work in the future, and stan's the inspiration for that!

his dad wasn't a fan of that choice! he, obviously, wanted kyle to follow his footsteps- but um. after the whole... troll debacle.. kyle has decided that he's never doing anything his dad wants again. as much as he can, at least.

he's bi & has a preference for masc people! obviously, this doesn't mean he hasn't interacted with more feminine people. he's got a type though! he hasn't ever had a longterm relationship, but has had a lot of quick one-offs that last for a week or two at most; though very few have ended like.. badly? he's friends with everyone still, just... not romantic.

he's in love with stan. he cannot act on this. he knows neither of them would be healthy romantically right now. ( stan's in love with him too, but he's... a lot more obvious about it. kyle pretends that the drunk texts, quiet moments, and reddened faces magically didn't happen. he has to be the responsible one right now. )

he shaves whenever his beard gets annoying- just gets rid of the whole thing and deals with stubble over and over again. it grows fast, but he isn't interested in having a full beard right now- or ever, maybe. (well...... i won't tell him if you won't)

he's hypersexual! this isn't smth that most would really know, but his friends know because it's something that he gets really frustrated about because it distracts him n messes up opportunities for him sometimes;;

in general, he really really reALLY FUCKING HATES his struggles with control at all. he has days where he's keyed up and pissed off for seemingly no reason, and it really beats the shit out of him.

i don't think he actually gives that much of a shit about fashion, but his parents do- that's why he's like.. the most well dressed of the group. especially if they have to wear formalwear for anything- kyle's the only one in a properly fitted three piece.

he likes pockets! he likes having them- even if he's not storing stuff, he just likes knowing he can carry things around. this often results in him and stan carrying shit for each other- sometimes eric and kenny if they ask- and kyle getting home and texting stan like "hey shit you left your emergency inhaler in my pants? do i need to come over" (no, stan has multiple, kyle just worries.)

he's got a really healthy relationship with ike! as much as he has moments of 'god i have no fucking clue what you just said to me, PLEASE speak english and not leetspeak,' they tend to dedicate a slot between homework and sleep on certain weekdays for hanging out on the couch and mooching off their dad's youtube premium plan to watch shit together! or they'll sit in either ike or kyle's rooms, and chat about stuff. ike's still super smart, he always has been, so honestly they probably have really longwinded conversations about Smart People Shit. they also have just as many conversations when ike is laying on his back holding his ratty old dog plushie up above his head bitching about whatever dramas are going on in his friend group, and kyle's just nodding solemnly sitting on the floor like dude i get it. i understand so much. (i'm picturing a loose schedule like.. monday and wednesday being hangout days, and then occasionally saturdays if stan comes over, because stan also loves hanging out with ike! thats his little brother too!)

he used to be Really Fucking Mad at eric all the time, but he's really mellowed out lately and the antics have morphed more into general like... rolling his eyes and sighing. but he's not (usually) chomping at the bit to kick his skull in anymore. sometimes eric does shit that irks him but he's become pretty used to most things.

kenny is obvs the glue of the group, so kyle is really close to them! ken teases about his and stans mutual love, and about how if they dont act soon, kenny's gonna take one of them. neither of them take that seriously- and the k's normally spend their time high and hanging out. (don't ask what theyre taking. its fine.)

he's not as close with butters as the others, but would still do a lot for him. he just... butters is harder to pin down, emotionally? he doesn't know when either of htem will do something to set each other off- and they've had a couple really bad screaming matches because they both have a loud fight response sometimes. he doesn't dislike butters, they are friends! he's just wary.

outside of the main group; he's close with others, primarily like.. tolkien and wendy.