#i watched an entire 8 hour video WITH a summary

[blastlight]

good news mutuals. i know the Fnaf Lore now

[hayleythesugarbowl]

U should write more Ian x reader, like a besties to lovers one? No pressure if ur busy ofc <3

More Than Friends || Ian Hecox x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: you have been ignoring your growing feelings for your best friend ian, but when you are chosen to do a romantic scene together will those feelings stay hidden?

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mild cursing

a/n: ahh thank you so much for this request ml, i’ve been meaning to write for ian again!! hope you enjoy this and have a wonderful day!! 🎀☁️🍒

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     “Ok, hear me out. The story is ‘getting a root canal’ but we make it a full on musical with production numbers and everything.”

     Angela’s loud voice broke over the chatter you had been drowning out and you looked across the table. 

     You had been sitting in an early-morning writers meeting discussing ideas for a new sketch for what felt like hours. 

     Whoever thought it would be a good idea to make you and everyone else be creative at 8:00am….

     “Angela,” Chanse chided.

     “What? I had a dentist appointment this morning and I was inspired.”

     “Anyone else have any ideas that don’t have the words ‘root canal’ in them?” Chanse asked.

     “What screams Smosh more than a root canal musical!” Angela looked around the room for help.

     Alas, it didn’t look like you were getting anywhere anytime soon. 

    You watched as Ian, who sat to your left, let his head slip from his hand where it had been rested on the table.

     “Look alive, Mr. President-of-the-company,” you whispered to him, covering the fact that you had definitely been watching him longer than was friend-like.

     Looks like you weren’t the only one who suffered from drowsiness that morning.

     “I was totally paying attention,” Ian yawned. “Something about boats.”

     You rolled your eyes and smiled at your best friend. You’d known Ian since you two were little—in fact, he was the reason you'd got your job at Smosh all those years back.

     You’d been staying with him for the past week while your apartment was being renovated and you'd definitely stayed up too late last night watching reruns of friends. Which probably contributed to you both nodding off during this meeting.

   “Twenty bucks says someone suggests kiss currency part two,” you whispered to Ian.

     “Are you kidding? No way I’m gonna take you up on that, I don’t have spare cash on me.”

     “Did someone say kissing?” Courtney waggled her eyebrows. 

     “Yeah, (Y/n) was just begging me to suggest a kissing sketch,” Ian teased.

     You smacked Ian’s arm, feeling your cheeks warm. “I was not!”

     “Ian just wants to kiss you, that’s all,” Anthony leaned over his friend to tell you conspiratorially.

     Ian pretended to gag. “I’d rather kiss Shayne.”

     “Hey!” Shayne threw up his hands in outrage.

     You laughed along with everyone but you couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your fist around your coffee mug.

     You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when you had begun to have feelings for Ian that were more than friendly. One minute he was just your best friend Ian and the next he was this funny, attractive guy who made your pulse race when he touched your arm or gave you one of his smiles. 

     You knew Ian didn’t return your feelings—you were sure of that. This new development was entirely one sided. Which was why you were absolutely, definitely never going to tell him. Ever.

     You sighed as you watched Ian lean away from you and towards Anthony to whisper something to him.     

     Everyone was silent for a moment and you leaned back in your seat, running a hand through your hair. 

     “Hey, to piggyback off of the kissing thing,” Anthony started, his voice breaking through the silence, “what if we did an ‘every dramatic love confession scene ever’? It’s been a while since we’ve done that style of video.”

     “Ooh good idea,” Ian said, “Those ‘we want the old Smosh’ people will love that. I can already see the views.”

     “Always ‘the content’ with you,” you teased him.

     “He’s right though,” Spencer chimed in, “Especially if we had you and Ian do some scenes together. People would eat that up; it’ll give ‘em more material for their edits. I’m talking Shourtney part two.”

     You watched as Shayne and Courtney looked at each other and grinned. Damn it, why couldn’t you and Ian be like them!

     But, Spencer wasn’t wrong. Ever since you had begun working at Smosh, fans had been convinced you and Ian were dating. You guys had always laughed about all of the comments and posts together. 

     You and Ian? As if!

     But lately, as you watched the fan edits and read the YouTube comments, you couldn’t help but wish that you and Ian actually were what all of these people thought you were. 

     “I can see it now: April 1st, 2025, Ian and (Y/n). Shourtney part two” Ian echoed Spencer’s comment and nodded. “Zach Justice and Tara level shipping.”

     “You know who they are, grandpa?” You snorted.

     “For the last time, I’m four months older than you!”

     You laughed as Ian spoke again.

     “I mean, I’m in if you’re in,” he turned to you,  “For the sketch. If you don’t mind pretending to be into me. I know it’ll be hard not to fall hopelessly in love with me.” 

     “How will I ever manage,” you deadpanned sarcastically, even as your palms began to feel sweaty. Ignoring your feelings on a daily basis was hard enough, let alone doing a love scene together. But you couldn’t very well refuse and have everyone, including Ian, wonder why. 

     Besides, it could be fun. It’d been a while since you’d done a sketch, and regardless of how you felt about Ian, he was still your best friend and you would get to spend a lot of time on set with him. 

     You took a deep breath. You were probably going to regret the next words that came out of your mouth. 

     “Let’s do it”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     “Shut up and kiss me,” you said, throwing your pretend purse to the ground as you stepped forwards.”

     “Not until you promise me that I’m the only one,” Ian sniffed dramatically. “I cant lose you again, baby.”

     “It’s only you,” you yelled, “It’s always only been you.”

     “Then kiss me,” Ian took a step towards you. “Kiss me like you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

     “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” you leaned in. 

     “And then we kiss,” Ian said in a lighter voice, breaking character as you ended the scene. “I feel like it should be raining in the background of this, damn. Ooh, note to self: talk to them about fake rain.”

     “Right,” you smiled shakily, trying not to let the scene have affected you. You were at Ian’s place—your apartment still wasn’t livable—and Ian had suggested you rehearse your scene again for the shoot the next day. 

     You had just received the script and were already panicking a how real it all was. The two characters in the scene were friends who fell in love with each other. Just your luck.

     You silently cursed whoever had written the whole thing. 

     “So do you want to rehearse the kiss before tomorrow?” Ian’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

     “Oh, um, I think it might be better if we just wing it. You know, realistic first kiss and all.”

     “As long as you don’t pull a Jennifer Lawrence on me,” Ian laughed, “No garlic fries.”

     You placed a hand to your chest in mock surprise, “Wow Ian, two pop culture references in one day? I’m so proud.”

     “I learned from the best,” Ian booped your nose and you felt your heart flutter. 

     You flopped down on your couch-bed in the middle of the living room and kicked your pajama-pant-clad legs out in front of you. 

     Ian sat down next to you and picked up the TV remote. “Do you mind?”

     You shook your head as he turned on the television. A show was playing that you’d definitely seen before, but you weren’t paying attention. 

     You couldn’t focus on anything but Ian’s presence next to you as he scooted closer to you and laid his arm over the back of the couch behind you. He smelled like pine and soap and a hint of the day’s cologne and the scent was so familiar and so damn attractive that you couldn’t ever imagine a time when you hadn’t wanted him all over you. How had you been so ignorant then?

     You rested your head on Ian’s chest and let out a sigh. All of this was so normal—you two laying there, watching TV, falling asleep next to each other—and yet it felt so different. 

     Ian kissed the top of your head gently and mumbled “Goodnight, (Y/n).”

     You muttered a soft, “‘Night.”

     Sometimes, when you were really desperate, you imagined that your best friend felt the same way about you that you did about him. In all the little ways that he made you feel special and loved, you found an almost something. It was times like these that you let yourself imagine, what if?

     But then you reminded yourself that you and Ian had always been this way. The only difference was your pulse racing and your heart jumping into your throat whenever he looked at you or touched you. 

     You let your eyes close as the sounds of whatever comedy was on played in the background.

     It was strange how you could feel so anxious and so comfortable at the same time. Despite all the new uneasiness that came with your romantic feelings towards Ian, you were still calmed by his presence. You still knew him better than anyone else. You still wanted this forever. Which is why you couldn’t let yourself change things. 

     You felt Ian wrap his arm around you and you shifted slightly on the bed. This felt right, you thought. How could you dare mess that up with unrequited love making everything difficult?

     Because that was scary. Changing everything was scary. Losing him was scary. But this? This was comfortable, you thought. And it was true. 

     You had never felt more comfortable before in your life.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     You had never felt more uncomfortable in your life. 

     You’d thought last night was awkward, reading through the script with Ian. But today, as you reminded yourself you’d have to kiss him and not make it seem like it meant anything to you, you were sweating through your floral-pattern dress. 

     “Hey (Y/n)!”

     You spun around to find Ian wearing a full on tuxedo, complete with a boutonnière and everything. 

     “Wow, you look—”

     “Like prom threw up on me? Yeah, I know,” Ian joked, “But you look like the lead in a romcom so thumbs up costume coordinator.”

     You looked down at your dress. You had gone to costuming earlier on and had just come out of hair and makeup. You hoped you hadn't already sweated it all off. 

     You looked back up at Ian. He looked—well, aside from drop dead gorgeous—like he had eaten something that didn’t quite agree with him.

     You opened your mouth to ask if he was feeling ok when you were called to set by one of the directors.

     “Looks like that’s us,” Ian smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

     You walked over to the set that you would be using, which looked like the outside of a building that could have been a school or a convention center. Apparently Angela had just had it lying around from a previous play. It looked really realistic, almost too realistic.

     You took a deep breath as you stepped onto set and Ian followed you. 

     You got this, you told yourself, you know all of your lines and you’re not going to mess this up.

     You looked out at the rest of the Smosh cast and crew, busy on set or waiting for their scenes. 

     “Ok and rolling…” you heard the director call.

     You prepared yourself. Ian stepped to the side of you. “You ready for this?”

     “Yeah,” you whispered, “definitely. Are you ok? You look pretty pale.”

     “I’m good,” Ian assured you with a nod, “just ate some weird pistachios at the snack table. I’d stay away if I were you.”

     “Noted,” you giggled.

     “…And Action!”

     You immediately were thrown into the scene. Ian had the first line and you tried to get into character.

     “What is your problem, Amy?” Ian said.

     “My problem?” you spat, trying to channel your inner romcom protagonist, “Are you really going to make me sit here and spell it out for you, Jake?”

     “That’d be nice,” Ian—Jake—scoffed.

     “Fine,” you made your voice shaky, “You wanna know what my problem is? My problem is that you came here with Veronica when you knew that all I wanted to do was be your date tonight.”

     “How would I know that? Was I supposed to just guess? You’re my best friend, Amy, why wouldn’t you just tell me!”

     “You want to know why I didn’t tell you?” You—Amy—asked him. “Because you’re my best friend. That’s why. I’ve had to sit here and watch you with girl after girl while all I wanted was as to be one of them.”

     You stepped closer to Ian as you kept saying your lines, trying to summon tears “I have been in love with you for years. Years, Jake. But I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t want to lose this.”

     You gestured between the two of you, trying to clear your mind and do what you had rehearsed. You refused to let any of your own thoughts slip in. 

     You continued, “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. So go ahead. It’s ruined now. Go back to your date and have the best night with her. I’ll just be here on the sidelines like I always have been.”

     You turned and pretended to walk away and as planned Ian grabbed your wrist and you spun around.

     “You don’t get it,” he started, “I love you. I always have loved you. From the moment I met you, I have loved you. I love the way you tie your hair up when you’re working on something. I love the way your nose scrunches up when something amuses you. I love your perfume and the way it kinda makes me dizzy when I’m near you. I love you. I have never loved anyone more.”

      Ian’s eyes were intense as he looked down at you. 

     “And I never told you because, look at you. You’re way out of my league, I was lucky to have you as a friend. But, it’s always been you. I love you so much and I can’t believe you love me back. I’ll keep saying it as long as I am still breathing. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

     Even though it was acting, you’d never seen Ian like this. Not even when you were rehearsing. This was raw and emotional and it was hard not to let yourself believe it was real. The air was thick and you were both breathing heavy, the room silent except for the synchronized sound of your breathing. You stepped towards Ian, preparing to tell him to ‘shut up and kiss you’, as the script said, but he kept speaking.

     “I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to say all this. But, I want to be more than friends. And now that you know, will you be  more than friends with me, (Y/n)?”

     You jolted at his use of your name and not your character’s. None of this was in the script, as far as you knew.

     “Ian—” You whispered, looking around. 

     He took your hands, swallowing hard. “This is real, (Y/n). And I meant every word.”

     You couldn’t process what was happening. You searched Ian’s face and he looked honest and hopeful and a little scared. But he was sincere. You didn’t see any evidence that this was some kind of practical joke. Was Ian saying…

     You moved to stand even closer to him. 

     “Shut up and kiss me,” you said hesitantly, saying the line you were supposed to say earlier. 

     A slow smile came to Ian’s face, getting what you were doing. “Not until you promise me that I’m the only one, I cant lose you again, baby.”

     “It’s only you,” you whispered, “It’s always only been you.”

     “Then kiss me,” Ian said. “Kiss me like you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

     “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” you leaned in. 

     And scene, You thought, So much for not letting this be real.

     And then your lips were on his, and you were kissing him. And Ian was kissing you back. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. You ran your hands through his hair and you felt him shiver beneath your touch.

     As you kissed Ian, your best friend, you silently thanked your luck—that this had happened, that Ian returned your feelings.

     Ian pulled away gently, brushing your hair back from your face.

     “Wow,” you breathed, “that was—”

     “That was everything I’d imagined it would be,” Ian said.

     And then, all of a sudden, the entire studio burst into applause. You looked out at all of your friends and cast mates clapping and cheering for you. Had they been in on this the whole time? Had they all known that Ian would break character and confess real feelings for you?

     “Just to be sure,” Ian said, “You do actually like me back right? You weren’t just finishing the scene?”

     You laughed, “Yes, Ian, I like you. A lot.”

     “Phew,” Ian laughed, calling out to the people gathered, “It’s a yes guys, she said yes! And sorry about ruining the shoot!”

     “You kidding? That was the most realistic love scene I’ve ever seen. How could we not use that?” Anthony called back.

     You giggled and placed your hands on Ian’s chest, “About that, I didn’t know you could be so cheesy and romantic.”

     “Only for you,” he said. “And I wouldn’t say cheesy. Poetic and beautiful, maybe.”

     You rolled your eyes at him, but you’d never been happier. You wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for days. And you didn’t want to. 

     All this time, as you’d been battling your own feelings, Ian had had feelings for you. You no longer had to pretend, because everything you wanted with Ian was already happening. 

     You smiled up at him, “I love you, Ian.”

     You had said it so many times platonically, but it felt different now. And yet the same.

     “I love you so much, (Y/n).”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     You put your hair up into a ponytail as you walked towards Ian’s office. You had changed out of your romcom dress and back into the clothes you wore to the studio today. Now that you were done with the shoot, Ian had said he wanted to take you out. Your first real date. 

     You rounded the corner and went to enter Ian’s doorway, but you stopped when you heard voices. 

     “Hey, thanks man,” Ian’s voice carried into the hallway. “Thanks for suggesting that sketch.”

     “Anything for my friend,” Anthony said. “When your best friend whispers ‘hey can you suggest a sketch where me and (Y/n) have to be romantic together’ you step up.”

     You strained to hear. What? Was Ian saying he had planned that whole thing? He was the one who wanted to do that sketch?

     “Besides,” Anthony continued, “I didn’t even really do anything. You wrote the whole thing. Speaking of which, damn man, warn somebody! I’ll bring tissues to set next time.”

     You couldn’t believe it! That entire scene, about two random characters, Ian had written it all for you and him. 

     “You wrote all that?” You stepped into Ian’s office a look of shock on both men’s faces.

     “(Y/n), how much of that did you hear?” Ian asked nervously.

     “Enough to be even more in love with you than when I walked over here, if that’s possible.”

     Ian looked relieved as he came over to you and put his arms around you. “Well, then yeah, I wrote it. And I meant every word I said about loving you.”

     “Wow, I gotta work on my speech writing skills,” you teased, “I didn’t know I was best friends with The Bard himself this whole time.”

     “It’s a gift,” Ian smiled, kissing you softly. “And I had plenty of time to practice being poetic, being in love with you for years.

     “I’m going to go,” Anthony’s voice interrupted, “because I feel like a third wheel and not because my eyes are watering—damn allergies. I’m so happy for both of you.”

     Anthony left the room and you both burst into laughter. 

    Ian placed a soft kiss to your lips again, and you smiled. You couldn’t believe this was your reality. 

     Some of your best memories and moments were with Ian as a best friend. And now you got to experience a whole new world with Ian your boyfriend. You couldn’t wait.

     You were wrong the night before, you thought, as Ian wrapped his arms around you.     

     This, this was the most comfortable you’d ever been. 

     “Hey, I hate to interrupt,” Angela peeked into the room, “but now that we’re done with the operation-get-Ian-and-(Y/n)-together sketch—congrats by the way—where are we at on Root Canal the Musical?”

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope y’all enjoyed this!! if you did, check out my other ian fic + my ian hcs 🤭🍓💌

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter three: you make me nervous

Pedro Pascal x F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size reader (no specific description of reader, slight descriptions of weight: stomach fat, stretch marks, etc.), hefty age gap (24 years/14 years), female anatomy description, she/her pronouns, use of gendered terms (girl, girly, etc.), y/n used, descriptions of nudity, swearing,  use of the word fat, warnings may change as the story progresses. 

authors note: Hi everyone. I just posted chapter two a few hours ago but my mind was buzzing with ideas lol. This chapter has a lot of awkward energy so I apologize in advance. Enjoy <3

chapter summary: y/n attends the table read for Risky Disco and gets to know Pedro. 

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

The week leading up to the table read seemed to drag on. Even though you kept yourself busy, it was like every time you looked at a clock, it ticked slower and slower. You were somewhat grateful for the delay as it gave you more time to prepare yourself for your first day working on Risky Disco. Not only did it delay your first day of work, it also delayed having to see Pedro again. You felt so silly. One ten minute interaction was invading your entire nervous system. To prepare yourself to see him again, you started watching interviews and clips of him acting. You wanted to know what his personality was like so you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself when you two are bound to cross paths fairly soon. Whenever you weren’t working your server job, you were reading through your script or watching videos on Pedro. You felt kind of weird finding out things about him when he would know nothing about you, but hey that’s the price of fame right? People knowing things about someone without that person knowing anything about them. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The table read was set to start at 9am. So naturally, you were up at 5am to get ready for the day. You took a quick shower and started to decide what to wear. Trying to keep comfort in mind, you scanned your closet for an outfit. Table reads usually include a lot of sitting so you knew you didn’t want to wear anything too tight around your stomach. You hated when you sat and your jeans would dig into your stomach or when your ‘baggy’ jeans tightened around your thigh when it flattened against whatever you were sitting on. You really wanted to look as cute as possible though, for yourself of course, not for anyone else…

You decided to wear a pair of sheer black pantyhose, with black shorts pulled over them, accompanied by a simple black v neck long sleeve shirt. For shoes you wore your trusty pair of classic docs. Once you were dressed, you worked on your hair and makeup, keeping it fairly simple. Looking at the time, it was now 7am. You made a quick breakfast and drank a cup of coffee. After you finished eating, you grabbed a tote bag and filled it with all of your essentials: your script, chapstick, lipstick, perfume, deodorant, and wallet. You then filled up your reusable water bottle, grabbed your keys and made your way out of the door. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The table read was taking place in the same building as the audition, making it a lot easier to find where to go and park. After parking your car, it was 8:30. You decided to go ahead and go inside. When you walked in, you spoke to a receptionist who told you what room to go to. As you neared the room, you realized that you were the first person here and for some reason that was embarrassing for you. Instead of going in, you lingered near the door and tried to look busy on your phone. After five minutes of opening and closing different apps, you heard someone walking down the hallway. You kept your head down and pretended to text someone so you didn’t look like such a loser. 

“Hey, y/n right?” 

Your entire body tensed up, you know that voice. You know that voice a little too well after all of your ‘research’. 

“I’m Pedro, I read lines with you during your audition.” You finally looked up and you almost let out a gasp. He was wearing a pair of light denim jeans, a basic black t-shirt, and a leather jacket. You let your eyes meet his and you saw that he also sported a baseball style cap with a pair of glasses. In conclusion, he looked good. Too fucking good. 

“Oh yeah that’s me. Hi, it’s nice to actually meet you.” You let out the words better than you thought you would. He gives you a smile and raises his hand to offer a handshake. You reach out and latch your hand to his. His hand was soft yet rough at the same time and it engulfed yours in a perfect way. You both let go and stand in silence for a moment. 

“So, just us so far?” he asked as he looked around. “Yea, I guess so. I feel like such a weenie getting here so early.” You cringed at your choice of words but Pedro let out a laugh. “Well, I definitely wouldn’t say you're a weenie.” he said with emphasis on the word ‘weenie’. “You’re professional, early is good.” You gave him a thankful smile. “I had this theater teacher that would hound us for not being on time. She would always say ‘early is on time and- ""-and on time is late.” he finishes the phrase for you and the two of you both let out a small laugh. “You hear that a lot in the acting world. Yet no one seems to follow it.” He says while looked down at his phone to check the time. 

Silence falls over you two and you start fidgeting with your fingers as a distraction. “Hey, why don’t we go ahead and sit down. We can show off our skills of being on time to all of the late weenies.” He smiles and you laugh at his use of weenie again. Pedro opens the door for you and you let out a quick thank you. As you walk in, you see a large table with name tags in front of each chair. You glance around the table, searching for your name. Once you found it, you made your way to your chair and Pedro took a seat right next to you. 

He was so close to you and it was too intense. First he comes in looking like sex on legs, now he’s sitting only a few inches away from you. He smells so good. You wish you could just- “You don’t walk much do you?” he asked as he turned to look at you. You do the same. “Sorry, I don’t want you to think I don’t want to talk to you. I do. I just get weird around new people and don’t really know how to act and I just have horrible people skills in general sometimes. You also kind of make me really nervous.” You shut up and quickly turn to face forward with a blush on your face. “I make you nervous?” He asked. You gave him a quick glance and saw that he had that stupid smirk on his face. You actually can’t believe you just said that out loud. You had never been someone who got the nervous rambles. You usually just give a short answer and keep quiet. You were so humiliated it was unbearable. Luckily, the room began to fill up with other actors and crew members. You felt Pedro shift beside you and your leg started bouncing out of nervous habit. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The table read was surprisingly uneventful. You had been nervous to read lines back and forth with Pedro but somehow your mind locks in when it’s time to act. You could still feel the intensity, especially when it came to the scene that led up to the steamy moment between the main characters. You just ignored the butterflies and kept reading. 

Once it was over, the director gave a little speech and the crew gave us a few notices. Letting everyone know to check their emails frequently for any changes made to the schedule. As soon as they released everyone for the day, you gathered your things and began to make the walk back to your car. Just as you were grabbing your door handle, you heard your name being called. When you looked up Pedro was jogging over to you. “Hi.” He said as he stopped in front of you. “Uhh hi.” You said awkwardly, still embarrassed from earlier. “Would you maybe want to hang out, get to know each other a little bit? We’ll be spending a lot of time together on screen and I would love to get to know you outside of filming and stuff.” All you could do is stand there and look at him. “I’ll try my best not to make you nervous.” He teased as he smiled brightly at you awaiting an answer. “If I agree to this, you have to promise to not make me nervous.” You held your pinky up and he linked his with yours, locking in his promise. You both dropped your hands. “So uh, what do you want to do?” “I honestly didn’t think that far ahead, I was just trying to catch you before you left.” You look down at the ground and think. “I mean you could come to my place. It’s small and there’s not much to do but we can just hang around and talk I guess…” You trail off at the end looking up at him. “Yea that sounds perfect.” There's a pause… “Uh, do you want me to give you my address or something?” “Oh yea here, let me give you my number so you can send it to me.” You pull out your phone and go to create a new contact. You hand your phone to him and he types in his number. When he hands it back, you notice that he set his contact name to ‘Pedro :)’. You smiled a little and opened the message app and sent him your address. “I just sent it. Did you get it?” He grabs his phone out of his pocket. “Yea I got it.” another pause… “Uh okay cool well, I’ll see you there I guess.” “Yea see you there.” He smiles. “Just text me or something when you get there so you don’t get lost in my apartment complex.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When you got home and hadn’t received a text from Pedro yet, you ran inside and quickly cleaned up as much as you could and sprayed some air freshener. 

‘I’m here :)’

Shit. You checked your appearance in the mirror before running out of the door and down to the parking lot. When you saw him, you started rethinking your entire life that led up to this point. What did you do to deserve having a sexy ass man want to hang out and get to know you?? I mean it’s for work purposes but still, it counts in your head as something more. You saw him get out of his car and make his way over to you. “Hi, um, follow me.” God why did you have to be so weird. “Okie dokie, lead the way.”. Once the two of you reached your apartment, you opened the door and walked inside. “You can take your shoes off if you want, I don’t really care but if you’d be more comfortable you can.” You look at him and he’s smiling at you. “Sorry, I don’t know why I keep rambling.”. You sigh and usher him to follow you to the living room. He takes off his jacket and hat. The sight of his biceps in that tight ass black shirt almost has you drooling. You try to collect yourself as quickly as possible before he notices anything. You take off your doc martens and plop down on the couch. You pat the couch and he sits on the other end. This is so fucking awkward oh my god. 

“Do you want anything to drink or something?”.

“No it’s okay, thank you though.” 

“No problemo.” 

Silence.. 

“Is there anything specific you want to know or um..” You look at him and quickly look away. “Sorry I'm really not good at meeting new people and being myself.” Your leg starts to bounce. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m the one who should be sorry. You told me you had trouble with new people and I sprung this on you.” His eyes move around the room. “You don’t have to be sorry. I promise I want to get to know you too, I just don’t really know how to do that.” 

He thinks for a moment. 

“How about we start with what we already know about each other, then we can ask each other questions based on that? Sound good?” You nod. 

“I can go first. I know your name is y/n. I also know that you’re 35 and that you’re an actress.” You squint your eyebrows together. 35? Where the hell did he get that from? You think for a moment.. Oh fuck. You completely forgot that Angie said you were 35 to get the audition.  

“Oh um yeah. Well I know your name is Pedro, I think you’re 49 but I’m honestly not that sure, and I also know that you’re an actor.” oh yea totally believable that you didn’t know this man's age  by adding an ‘I think’ super smooth…

“How long have you been acting?” 

“Well I moved here like six years ago, almost seven at this point. I did some theater in high school. So however long that is. This is my first big role though.” “That’s surprising.” “What is?” “That this is your first big role.” “Why do you say that?” “Sweetheart, your audition was incredible. You were a natural.” 

Sweetheart 

“Oh um thank you. I’d like to think I’m good.” “You are good.” He sets his hand on your thigh and squeezes as he speaks and immediately retracts his hand. You can still feel the warmth of his quick touch and the spot tingles. Your heart is beating at an unhealthy speed. You look down at your thigh and back to his stupid handsome smiling face.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The two of you continued to talk and get to know each other. You spoke about acting, family, interests, hobbies. Once the conversation flowed more, it was easier to let loose and talk to him without stuttering every two seconds. 

Pedro was laughing at something you said when your stomach growled. 

“Oh my god that is so embarrassing.” You hide your face in your hands. “No need to be embarrassed sweetheart.” There was that name again. “I should leave soon, I didn’t realize it was so late already.” You really wanted him to stay. “You don’t have to go. I was probably going to order something if you wanted to join me.” You offered hoping he would say yes. “I don’t want to be a bother, I’ll get out of your hair.” “Oh. Okay.”. He stood up and stretched his arms up, making his shirt raise just enough for you to catch a glance at his lower tummy. You quickly looked away and stood up as well. 

He put his hat and jacket back on. “Well I should head out.” “Yea.. yea um I’ll walk you out.” You both started walking towards the door. “I’ll see you soon yea? Next time you better not be all shy again you hear me?” “No promises. You make me nervous, remember?.” He chuckles. You open the door for him. He gives you a quick goodbye and then he's gone. You close the door and make your way back to the couch to sit down. You ordered some food and tried to process everything that happened today. 

As you were eating, you got a text. 

Pedro :) 

I had a lot of fun today, we should do it again. 

You start to text a reply but before you can hit send, another text comes through. 

Pedro :) 

Did I mention that you looked really beautiful today? 

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Thank you for reading <3

next chapter

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Hair Dye- Christopher Sturniolo

Summary: chris was about to leave for the Versus tour but wanted to do something dramatic for his fans for the tour! you dye his hair and he dyes yours!

warnings: nothing :)

A/n: i was watching the video where chris dyed nicks hair and i thought it would be cute if i wrote a lil sumth based of this!

PSA: DONT STEAL MY WORK! IT BELONGS TO ME MYSELF AND I!

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Chris and I have been dating for roughly about 3 years. We had met not long after their YouTube became popular and quickly we both had made it official. Considering I was Chris’ first ‘real relationship’ because he had commitment issues and I swore off dating till college, we both moved to LA because we couldn't do long-distance.

“I can't believe we're going on fucking tour” Chris’ excitement squealed out of him as he's getting his bags ready for the Triplets ‘Verus Tour’

“What am I gonna do without you, I got this big ass house and big ass bed with no Chris to share it with,” I say sprawling in a starfish position.

“You could always invite Tara over, you two can do whatever you two do best together” he chuckles shoving some socks into a deep pocket of his suitcase.

“So drinking and partying?” I laugh out sitting up and resting my weight on my elbows.

“Please do not get drunk for over a month straight i would genuinely check you into a Rehabilitation center” Chris chuckled throwing his arms up.

“Don't worry I'll probably just chill here most of the time and eat, sleep, watch Gossip Girl for the 30th time, and occasionally go out with Tara,” I reassure him flicking my hand up and down brushing his comment off.

“I wanna do something crazy before tour,” he says as his lips curl up into a smirk.

“Like what? You guys leave in like 3 days” I adjust my body sitting up crisscross.

“I wanna dye my hair orange, 'cause you know each of us has a color for our team so like half of my outfits for tour consists of orange,” he says walking towards the bed sitting next to me.

“Chris normally I would be supportive of your impulsivity but dying your entire beautiful virgin brown hair orange? I won't support that one” i laugh running my nails through his long wavy brown locs of hair.

“Okay, maybe not my whole hair but maybe like the tips of my hair?” he says grabbing a small piece of hair and pointing at the tip of it.

“Chris it's 8 pm and no hair salon takes last-minute hair appointments and I only trust my hair stylist Hazel” I laugh sitting back and leaning my head against the headboard of the bed.

“Then why don't we do it? Walmart is still open and they have hair dye, right? I mean I've dyed Nick's hair before with the help of Maddie but how hard can it be?” he moves closer to me shooting me a smirk.

“I have dyed my hair before. Fuck it let's do it” I stand up off the bed smiling at Chris whose smirk turned into the happiest smile on his face.

We both chuckled and made our way downstairs to discover Matt and Nick giggling while looking at their phones.

“Where are you guys going?” Matt's head peaked up looking towards us.

“To get hair dye” Chris laughs and spoke before I could

“Oo Y/N what color are you dying your hair this time?” Nick shimmies his shoulders smirking.

“Well Chris wanted to do something crazy before the tour so he wanted me to dye the tips of his hair orange and I'm dying the underneath of my hair orange as well” I nervously spit out gripping Chris’ hands.

“Okay that's actually disgustingly adorable” Nick laughs out

“Well be back in like an hour” Chris and I walked out together, hand in hand, and made our way to my car.

We're currently sitting in the car, cruising down the road on our way to the nearby Walmart laughing at the possible situations that could happen.

“Are you sure you know what you're doing” Chris asks propping his feet up on the dashboard of the car.

“Chris it's gonna be fine” I reassure tapping his thigh laughing softly.

As we arrive at the Walmart parking lot, Chris steps out and stands in front of my car, his hand outstretched, waiting for me to take it as I step out of the car as we enter the store.

“What about this one?” he says “Splat is a cool name” he chuckles

“NO” I exclaim “That is one ingredient away from being fabric dye”

“Oh my god why would they make this stuff” his eyes go wide as he laughs and throws the box back on the shelf.

“Okay here, this is Manic Panic, Nick used it when he dyed his hair, it's pretty good” I say holding two jars of the dye.

“Okay, so how much do we need?” Chris gives his little sassy side eye when he's confused which happens to be a lot of times when I have to over-explain myself.

“Well you don't have a lot of hair to cover and since I'm only dying the back of my hair and maybe my money pieces then maybe two” my voice raises with question.

“Two it is” He nodded and smiled, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he reached for the hair dye. As he took my hand, a rush of warmth spread through me, and we made our way to the register together to check out.

The car ride home was filled with laughter and comfortability within each other. In the 3 years, we've been together, I can't remember a single time where we had ‘small talk’ or ‘chit chat’ we could always talk about something big or small for hours. It was always one of the things I loved about Chris, he was a yapper but we could always bounce back and forth with nonsense.

As we entered the house, we couldn't contain our laughter and giggles, our voices echoing through the halls as we made our way inside.

“Why are you two so disgustingly cute” Nick spits smiling at both of us.

“You acting like we're a new couple” Chris chuckled.

“No, but still so sickening how cute you guys are together even after 3 years of watching you two be together” Nick shrugs popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

With a chuckle, Chris leads me into the bathroom we both share. “Do you want me to use one of my old shirts to cover up with?” he asks leaning against the counter “We can just share the shirt too”

“Do you even own a shirt you don't care about?” I softly laughed.

“You know how many wife beaters I own, why question anything” he throws his hands up in defense laughing as he grabs a black tank top from his room and quickly swaps his shirt out.

“Okay sit between my legs” I smile up at him as he nods and sits Indian style between my legs.

“So how does hair dye work? Like what makes the color stay? Who invented it?” he questions as I start to apply the dye on the tips of his hair blending it out to create an ombre effect.

“Chris I'm not sure about any of those questions i just know that I use it, and I hope this will come out, or else Hazel is gonna be really mad at me” I chuckle out.

“So you don't know how it works? Or who invited it?” he leans his head back facing me as his big blue doe eyes stare at me.

I smile but lightly push his head back down to dye the back and the bottom of his hair. “You know I don't always know the answer to everything, I may always be right about most things but it ain't nothing to just go on Google and type it in,” I say softly laughing

“I know but why use Google when I have a super-smart girlfriend” he shrugs his shoulders smiling.

I carefully completed the styling of his hair, ensuring that I covered all the sections he wanted dyed and coated them with a vibrant orange color.

“Now we wait 45 minutes” I smile helping him up off the floor.

“YOUR TURN” he squeals holding his hands out for me. “Now you can sit between my legs” he smirks moving his shoulders.

“WAIT, let me section my hair because I don't want my whole hair orange,” I stand up go to the mirror and section my hair in a ‘Halo’ hairstyle. “okay here you go just dye the parts that aren’t in the bun up here” I smile sitting back between his legs.

“got it” he smiles back at me beginning to rub his fingers that are coated with orange color through my hair “If I pull your hair too hard let me know” he lightly pulls my head back to look at him before giving me a little peck on my lips.

He made sure his hands were gentle through my hair and made sure it was coated on every strand and maybe even overly coated. “I'm putting a lot of dye on your hair but only to make sure it is coated properly” he smiles moving my head to the side to get the side of my hair.

“This is nice” My lips curl upwards in a smile as my body becomes relaxed. “I enjoy these little bonding moments with you”

“Oh believe me I enjoy this more” he smiles “okay turn around so I can get your shorter pieces of hair”

As I turned around to face him, I noticed his eyes brightening with excitement as he carefully applied the dye to the shorter pieces of my hair.

“Okay now we wait” he smiles sitting next to me.

I pull out my phone and get a picture of Chris and me with the wet dye in our hair so we can remember this moment. “You're so beautiful ma” he smiles at our picture. “God I'm gonna marry that woman one day,” he says pointing at the picture on my phone.

“Chris you're so corny” I softly laugh out softly pushing his shoulder.

“You're gonna miss my corny jokes when I'm gone” he raises his eyebrows smirking.

“Chris you sound like you're dying, you're just going on tour, and we're gonna face time like every night, and I'm gonna come visit you obviously” I playfully roll my eyes.

“I won't let you not visit, you're gonna visit” he softly says placing a kiss on my cheek.

After 45 minutes had passed, Chris and I carefully rinsed out the dye from our hair and then proceeded to blow dry it. Chris wouldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror touching his hair and making goofy faces at himself.

“God we look fuckable” he smirks at me in the mirror.

“Christopher Owen” my jaw goes slack as the words come out of his mouth.

“I'm being honest we look hella good right now” he smiles “WE NEED TO POST THIS ON INSTA” he pulls out his phone taking a couple of pictures of us with our hair.

Liked by Nicolassturniolo, Matthewsturniolo and others

Christophersturniolo: Tour ready 🧡

______________________________________________

Nicolassturniolo: YALL ARE SO CUTE ITS SICKENING

Matthewsturniolo: i would give you the menu but yall already ate

> Matthewsturniolo: i don’t know why i said that..

Sturnioloteam: #theverustour

LuvY/N: we fuckable

> christophersturniolo: oh but it’s okay if you say it ✋😧🤚

______________________________________________

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N PART 2: PLS IGNORE THE FACT THAT THE PICS ARE RED AND NOT ORANGE I COULD FIND ANY ON PINTREST LOL ALSO SORRY FOR THE INACTIVITY IVE HAD ZERO MOTIVATION BUT I

LOVE YALL AND I HOPE YALL HAVE AN AMAZING DAY/NIGHT/EVENING!

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 11

11 - Peak Fashion

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc [vallie] 👀

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 5k

warnings: angsty? but cute?, jealous nicholas, sassy but goofy noah, something revealed, very short time skips, 18+ MDNI

summary: vallie abruptly wakes to a million texts to meet for a last minute music video. upon arriving she discovers that the band is not at all prepared which sets her and noah on a mission.

Reminder: This contains the very mild crossover with Christian 'Kras' Anthony from Chase Atlantic ...... and introduces another extremely mild crossover 🫣 they are both merely for side character/reference purposes. Nothing huge, don’t worry lol just for fun

Disclaimer - This story is semi-AU since it does not follow actual timelines or events. The band is still fairly small & does things entirely on their own with no other support.

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

VALLIE

Sunlight warms my eyelids and gently lulls me awake. My eyes shoot open at the realization that I have once again fallen asleep somewhere that isn’t my home – well my pseudo-home anyway. It seems that anywhere else feels homier than my showroom-esque Airbnb.

This time I don’t wake up in a panic, the smell of Christian’s woodsy cologne reassures me that I’m somewhere safe. The last time stamp I saw on my phone last night was 4:30 am. We had spent the whole night catching up, watching our favorite comfort shows, and binging all his favorite American snacks that he can’t get in Australia.

I reach over to the nightstand to grab my phone. A groan escapes me when I see that the time reads 8:47 am. My brows curve up at the ridiculous amount of notifications that fill my screen. While my job doesn’t really have “days off”, I had no specific plans or meetings booked for the day. So, it’s unexpected.

Most of them were from Bryan, the Omens’ photographer that I met at the warehouse with Noah. The messages flood my screen with missed calls and texts.

Bryan: Warehouse. 8 am.

Bryan: Hello? Are you awake?

Bryan: Music video. Today.

Bryan: I think you should be there.

Bryan: Hey!!! Music video !! Today !! 8 am !!

Bryan: Dude

Bryan: We’re starting. Show up whenever, if you want.

Fuck.

Kras continues to snooze next to me and I know that not even a plane crash could wake him up. So, I press a quick peck on his cheek before I roll out of bed and quickly begin gathering my belongings.

I’m rushing because well… Bryan seems like the only Omen who wants to cooperate or include me in any actual band activities. So, I have to be here. And I’m already an hour late.

I leave a small note on Christian’s dining table, saying how nice it was to see him, thanking him for the pep talk, and that I’ll see him and the rest of his band in a zoom meeting next Monday morning.

I’m still not sure if saying yes to his job offer was the right choice. I’m already stretched thin enough between my main client and now Omens, adding Chase might be more than I can handle. While my main client’s fanbase is much more… intensive, Chase Atlantic is still larger than both of them. And that swirls a terrifying pit of anxiety in my stomach because I’m not quite sure I’m equipped with enough experience to handle it all.

Gravel cracks beneath my tires as I pull up to the warehouse. I gather my bed head hair into the closest thing to a bun I can get it and try to rub off the slept in mascara smudged under my eyes.

My engine isn’t fully off for half a second before I’m out and locking my door.

I smooth out the exact same outfit I wore to Christian’s yesterday since I didn’t have time to stop home. Usually, I would never show up to a work event in sweatpants, a cropped cami, sneakers, and a flannel, but here we are. It’s not like the band is particularly formal anyway.

I see Folio and Jolly first, who both give me strange looks, like they’re surprised I’m here. Then, Noah and Nicholas once I get to the entrance. They seem equally as shocked too.

“What are you doing here?” Noah asks, lined with his usual snarky tone, seeming almost offended by my presence.

“I invited her.” Bryan speaks up from the background, adjusting the camera around his neck. “And you’re about an hour late by the way.”

Regardless of his criticism, he gives me a smile and a side hug – which surprises me.

Aside from Nicholas – for…obvious reasons – Bryan is the one who meets me with the most warmth out of the five of them.

I offer a closed lipped smile and a small awkward wave to the band. I wasn’t prepared to accidentally crash a music video shoot.

“Nice outfit, you just get out of bed?” Noah quips.

I roll my sleep-deprived eyes, “Nice to see you too, Noah.”

The rest of the band disperses into whatever they were doing before I arrived.

Nick walks up to me and I can tell he’s trying his best to act casual.

“Hey.” He says simply but quietly between us.

“Hey.” I match his somewhat awkward tone.

My gaze reluctantly meets his and I immediately regret it. His hair is pulled up into a fluffy ponytail with his hair flat against his head and he looks so good.

This was going to be more difficult than I thought.

“Val?” He asks trying to get my attention.

“Huh?” I shake my head from the fuzz sitting in my brain.

“Oh, I just said it’s nice to see you.” He says demurely. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I take note of the dullness of his normally bright eyes, and the dark bags beneath them. It makes me wonder if he got as little sleep as I did.

The energy of this whole ordeal is so… odd. It makes me feel as though I’m once again missing parts of a puzzle that I’m not aware of.

His gives me a once over and lingers a bit on my flannel.

“Oh! Right!” I set my bag down on a nearby table before slipping the flannel off my arms, giving it a lazy fold, and offering it over to him. “Here have it back.”

He instinctively takes the folded garment, looking at it like I just handed him the wrong Chipotle order. His brows furrow, initially in confusion then into something much different.

Before he responds it hits me.

I fucked up.

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

“This isn’t mine.” He states in a slighted tone.

“Oh- Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night–“ I immediately realize that probably wasn’t the best thing to follow that up with. “I just need a coffee.”

“Right.” He lands the flannel back in my hands. He goes to pass me and stops as he’s grazing my shoulder. “And who’s ever it is, has shitty taste in cologne.”

My eyes widen.

Did I just put Kras’ proposed scheme into action by accident?

It’s fine.

It’s perfectly fine.

I’m fine.

I discreetly shake out the tips of my fingers and glance up to finally take in my surroundings fully. The floor is covered in a massive tarp, covered in… dirt?

I steal the phone from my tote pocket and carefully walk over to where Bryan is messing with some equipment. I shuffle right up next to him and whisper, “What…exactly is happening here?”

“I don’t know. Noah just woke us all up at the ass crack of dawn and said we needed to do this today.” Bryan shrugs, not stopping his actions for me, and continues walking carrying a large umbrella light.

“…and you all just went along with it?”

“Listen. I just work here man.” He sets down the heavy light and sighs dramatically.

I can’t help but chuckle at his verbiage.

“Okay… and why did you have to drag me into this?”

“Well, you have a job to do, don’t you?” He questions as if he doesn’t know the answer.

“I mean y-“ I begin but he cuts me off.

“Exactly.” He walks back over to a pile of equipment on a plastic table, and I follow him around like a puppy while he talks. “And you want them to like you, yes?”

“Well, I mean,” My eyes glance over at Nicholas who’s sat on a stool tuning a teal bass. The memories of our bodies entwined graze over my tongue and his working fingers sends a tingle between my legs.

Well, one of them likes me.

Is my first reflex to say.

But I’m not even sure if that’s true, especially not now. I should know better than to trust band boys anyway. I manage them, I’ve been around them since the start of my career. I’ve been best friends with Kras for nearly a decade. I’ve seen what band men do. How they treat the women they use to get off, even the ones they love.

“Look. They need you.” He says, his tone more serious than before and leans against the wall beside him with crossed arms. “Whether they believe it or not, they need you. You and I both know that. If Noah wants to be an arrogant, stubborn asshole, then let him. But don’t give up on them. They just need time.” His eyes drift to the four of them messing around with their instruments. “You’re stuck with them one way or another. And they’re not a bad bunch to be stuck with. Trust me.” He gives me a half smile before nudging my arm. “Loosen up a little, you might find that you like ‘em.”

Bryan pushes himself off the wall going to find some other task and I’m left with this peptalk I wasn’t expecting, especially from him.

I take the time to watch them, really watch them. Noah is well … Noah, so there’s some grumpy tension that follows him – but the rest of them, even while grumpy and irritated, flow together effortlessly.

Noah ripped everyone from their sleep and yet, they’re still all here. Sure, you could write that off as good work ethic, but I think it’s more than that. As unpredictable as he is, they let Noah lead them. At least for the most part.

They all showed up for him today and the whole time I’ve known them.

‘This band is all he has.’ Nicholas’ words echo in my ears from that rainy night in his car.

Maybe they all know that, and maybe they all honor it.

They all love him enough to show up and keep showing up.

Christian is right. I can’t let my feelings cloud this. If not for me, then for them.

As I clear from my dissociation, I realize I must’ve hyper fixated on their bustling about because the only thing I see now is their attire… or the lack thereof.

“Wait, wait, wait.” I cautiously step around the piles of dirt on a brown tarp to reach Noah. “Is this the whole outfit? This is what you’re wearing for the video?”

Noah sighs in exasperation and drops the corner of tarp he’s holding to face me. “Yes? Do you have a problem with it?”

“Problem with it? It is the problem.” I give him a once over, just black jeans and plain grey shirt with a faded CocaCola logo on it. I reach to his sides and give the seems a small tug to pull the logo taught against his thin chest. “You see that? What does that look like to you?”

Noah raises a snarky brow at me, “A Coke logo?”

“Wrong. That-” I drop the edges of his shirt and stab his sternum with my finger. “That is unpaid brand advertising.”

I can tell he immediately wants to roll his eyes but doesn’t when he realizes I’m right.

The rest of the boys wear similar outfits, jeans, t-shirts, hoodies.

“Okay, well this is all we brought last minute, and the house is like an hour away, I’m not driving back there.”

There’s no way I’m letting them shoot an entire video in dirt with such casual outfits. I tug at my lip and tap my fingertips on my arm in thought.

As if a lightbulb appears above my head, a possible solution crosses my mind.

“I think I saw a thrift shop in that strip where the bar is.” I shrug, “I can try to find something there. But I can’t just let you play around in dirt like this.”

Noah raises his brows and crosses his tattooed arms across his chest, “Well I’m sure as fuck not letting you pick out outfits for us.”

I walk over to my bag, picking up easily and walking towards the warehouse opening. “Then you better hurry up and get in my car.”

Noah and I had been looking through racks of dusty clothes for about 10 minutes without speaking to each other. I knew a thrift shop was somewhat of a risky choice, but after not seeing anything worth shit for a bit had me nervous.

I’m not sure why I’m nervous – but I shouldn’t be making risky bold decisions with them.

Across the racks I catch Noah picking up a thick peacoat. At first glance, I find it absolutely repulsive, but for a music video? It could be exactly what we need. At least it’d be better than a Coca-Cola shirt. For the vibe I think he’s going for, it might be perfect.

He lifts up the hanger and flips it around, his brows knitting intently at it. He likes it.

I haven’t known him that long, but he’s pretty transparent, no matter how mysterious he thinks he is.

I quickly divert my eyes back down when he goes to return the coat to its place on the rack. I know that if I say I like it, he’ll immediately be against it, so I keep my mouth shut.

“So, what kinda vibe are you going for?” I ask casually.

He glares over at me, “What do you care? Changing our clothes was your idea remember?”

“Whoa.” I put my hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, I’m sure you wanna put us in the same preppy clothes you put your other big mysterious client in. Which I’m still convinced is Harry Styles by the way.”

I roll my eyes knowing which “client” he’s referring to since I haven’t mentioned that I took on a third one yet. He means the first one, the one that landed me here in the first place, my ‘big success’. At least that’s what they kept telling me when sitting in meeting after meeting getting pitched different ‘next big artists’. And somehow, I got stuck with Noah & friends™️.  

“No, it’s not Harry and I don’t put them in preppy clothes.” I reply absentmindedly sifting through hangers.

“Them?” He picks up on my slip immediately and my eyes widen slightly. “It’s a band?”

I clear my throat and shake my head. “No – no that’s not what I–“

“It is, isn’t it?” His brows lower at me. “It better not be a conflict of interest, that would be a breach of contract and I-“

“Relax. I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t have signed contract if it was a conflict of interest.” I glare over at him with annoyed, tired eyes.

I sigh then allow my tense shoulders to roll back. “Yes. It’s a band. But they aren’t a heavy band they’re ehm…. more classic rock, hippie-ish?” I shake my head. “And trust me, I would NOT put you or the rest of you in any of their clothes.”

I press my lips together trying to stifle a giggle that threatens to escape at the thought of Noah in a glitzy jumpsuit.

“What’s so funny?” He furrows his brows at me in offense. “You don’t think I could pull off some hippie clothes?” He asks seriously, but I can tell he doesn’t believe it either, he’s just trying to be difficult.

Then it occurs to me that this reverse-psychology defiant behavior may work to my advantage.

“No, actually. I don’t think you could.” I shrug, sliding some clothes over. “Just like I don’t think you could pull off that hideous peacoat.”

His brows rise higher than I’ve ever seen them. “Oh really? Maybe that’ll be the one I choose then.”

Checkmate.

I ignore it to not put too much emphasis on it. “You never told me what’s the vibe you want.”

“Hm.” He pauses, maybe he doesn’t even know. “I’m not sure. Cult-y? Business-y? Underground elite secret society-y?”

“Wow.” I say with wide, surprised eyes and exaggerating my mouth around the word. “That’s… specific. And you planned to achieve that with graphic tees?”

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

“Would I know your other band?” He inquires, the curiosity obviously eating at him.

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

We continue to mind our own business in our individual searches while early 2000’s pop plays through the small, dingy shop.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Noah lifting up an obviously homemade PitBull t-shirt.

I can’t help but let out a loud laugh.

He snaps his head over at me with a goofy grin, “What you don’t think Mr. Worldwide is peak fashion?”

I shake my head laughing, “No, I definitely wouldn’t say he is.”

“I think this might be the most badass piece of clothing I’ve ever seen.” He seems half serious and half trying to hold back a cackle.

“It’s a… choice. But you know what? It might be perfect for you.”

He feigns offense, “Why because you think I’m so badass?”

A laugh erupts from me. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Well, I’m getting it. I might wear it in the video.” He throws the white shirt into his cart.

“Great.” I reply sarcastically.

The search seemed to be going a bit better the further we dig. I found a couple pieces that might work for the rest of the band to fit into Noah’s vaguely hyper-specific theme. He’s done the same, just not as successfully.

Across the aisle I notice his hands grasping the sides of a hideous white puffy jacket with patches of sherpa all over it and an oversized hood. The nylon material rasps as he rubs it between his inked fingertips. My brows curve at how he looks at it like it’s some lost treasure.

He pauses before turning to me, lifting it up to showcase its entirety.

“What do you think about this?” He asks genuinely, which throws me off. It sounds so authentic, so real, and not hidden behind any sort of sassy, crude walls, or ulterior motives. I don’t know if he’s ever truly talked to me like that before, especially not sober.

I’m still cautious since he’s fooled me before, so I stay neutral by lifting my shoulders to a shrug. “I don’t know. Why don’t you try it on?”

He eagerly scoots past his cart that takes up the entire aisle and walks to the mirror. The thick zipper hisses at how quickly he undoes it, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

I watch him in some form of awe, maybe it’s more curiosity of his behavior. The more I get to know him, the stranger he seems.

He slips his skinny arms through the sleeves, and it fits him loosely but just right, like it’s made for him – though that doesn’t detract from how it still looks a little ridiculous, just less so now that it’s on him.

He turns back to me and spreads out his arms like a child showing off a Halloween costume.

“Well?” He questions.

“I mean the jacket is still pretty silly.” I chuckle. “But it looks nice on you.” I compliment honestly.

A toothy grin spreads across his mouth and turns back to the mirror, “Yeah, I think so too.”

Quiet falls between us again and we move on to different sections. I get so focused on rifling through the clothes that I realize I’ve lost track of Noah. I scan the small store and can’t spot him.

“Noah?” I call and as if right on cue, I feel something dropped around my head followed by a scurrying Noah.

“What the hell?” I reach up and catch the edges of the large hat pulling it off and finding that he’s dropped a massive sombrero on my head. “Hey!”

He chuckles and pulls his shoulders to a shrug, “Might be perfect for you.” He mocks my words from before about the Pitbull shirt.

“Ha-ha very funny.” I roll my eyes playfully. “I’ll get you back.”

“Bring it on.”

What follows is a series of us trying to find the most ridiculous shit to throw on or at each other.

First, I got an ugly, dusty, grandma shawl that I threw on Noah’s shoulders as best as I could before quickly walking in the other direction.

Then, when I wasn’t paying attention and with great stealth, he was able to drop a yellowing Disney rain poncho over my body.

Now, he’s stood in front of a full-length mirror holding up various different pieces of black clothing. In my stroll through the hat section, I found a leopard print fedora perfect for his big head. I sneak up behind him, making sure not to get in frame of the mirror. I reach up on my tip toes to somewhat reach his head, tossing the hat up to bridge the rest, hoping that it would land.

It does land, crooked atop his head.

I cover my mouth to hide a chuckle before backing away slowly. Before I can make my escape, he snaps his head over in my direction, jostling the hat to fly off his head. In a swift move, he catches it with fumbling hands.

“Hey that’s not fair! You’re tiny and fast!” He plops the leopard fedora back on his head and anchors a fist at each hip playfully.

The goofy sight of it all makes me double over nearly cackling. “It’s not my fault you’re big and clunky!”

He pulls the flimsy hat off his head, squishing it thin between his fingers pointing at me. “You better watch your back, Thornhill.”

“Ooh, you’re so scary, Sebastian.” I tease with raised hands feigning fear.

“You think you’re so funny huh?” He speaks directly at me probably trying to distract me, but I catch him snatching another random hat off the rack while he slowly makes his way towards me.

My eyes glance at down at his actions and I make a run for it. I don’t know what I expected but, he chases me around the thrift shop like we’re little kids in a toy store. I stealthily weave through metal racks full of musty clothes trying to lose him, giggles pouring from both our mouths.

I ignore the judging looks from the employees and the few patrons shopping around us. It’s a blessing that I can’t hear the murmuring around us. My ears are full of only my own heartbeat and the sound of his playful and competitive laughter.

It’s then that I realize I hadn’t fully heard him laugh before, not sober anyway, and it’s so… endearing. It’s one of those laughs that’s contagious and only makes you laugh harder. Which isn’t something I expected from him. None of this is really what I expected.

He finally corners me in the scarf section. I spin around in the tiny space between us and within that split second he’s snatched a bizarrely colored thin scarf and throws it around my neck like a towel, keeping hold of each end.

Just as fast, I grasp a similar scarf and match his actions, throwing the scarf up around his neck. With the speed and rush of the motion, I accidentally tugged him closer and lower to me.

My eyes flutter up and the edges of his laughing grin shorten when his eyes meet mine. Unexpectedly, my breath hitches in my throat. I never noticed just how chocolate-y brown his eyes were until now. Normally his eyes are so serious or angry or… drunk, but right now, they’re wide and warm and just as confused as mine. His eyes shift side to side seemingly searching mine for something I’m not quite sure of.

Being this close to him really emphasizes just how tall he is, the top of my head barely meets his shoulders and for some reason, that realization makes my heart thump harder against my ribcage.  

I’m frozen where I stand, I should pull away, but I can’t. I shouldn’t enjoy the butterflies that run rampant in my tummy. It’s just Noah after all. The asshole that somehow always ends up drunk on the floor. The one that tells me how to do my job and how not to manage him. The one that told Nick that I’m a ‘stuck-up corporate bitch’.

But, that’s the same Noah that’s chasing me around this store like we’re playing tag on a playground.

My tummy twists and my breath sharply lodges itself in my throat when I catch his eyes dart to my lips – once.

Twice.

He moves closer, just marginally, and then again – eyes, lips.

I mimic his actions, my eyes flicker from his brown eyes to light pink lips.

Then he’s even closer – so close I can feel his exhaled breath brush past my nose.

Again.

Eyes, lips.

I feel his knuckles just graze my shirt where he’s still holding the scarf at either end and it sends electricity down to my fingertips.

Then, a strand of his long brown hair falls from behind his ear, and it seems to snap him from our daze. He lets out an awkward chuckle, steps back and slides the scarf off my neck by one end.

“We should probably wrap up here… I’m sure the guys are sick of waiting for us.” He scratches the back of his neck and diverts his eyes from me.

It seems like the right thing to do, but for some reason it leaves me a little disappointed.

Disappointed in what exactly?

What the fuck just happened?

I pull the scarf off of him in the same manner and hang it back up on its hook. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Checking out is hushed and awkward as we stand next to each other in front of the workers that had to watch us nearly destroy the store.

We walk out silently until I notice that he’s walking out with the leopard print fedora proudly plopped on his head.

“You really bought that stupid hat?” I chuckle calling after him carrying 2 heavy, giant bags full of clothes.

“Yeah duh-“ He begins looking back but trips over his feet across the exit door frame.

I bring a plastic bag-occupied hand up to cover my mouth to hide a giggle.

“Shut up.” He directs me with a pointed hand even though I hadn’t said anything.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kinda goofy?” I laugh, shaking my head and clicking my key fob to unlock the car.

“Goofy?” He gasps as if he’s offended. “Valerie this is peak fashion.”

I chuckle and roll my eyes, “Get in the fucking car, will you?”

He laughs and matches my actions of throwing the heavy bags in the backseat. He slides in the passenger of my blue Mercedes rental and the clunky weight of his lanky body shakes the small car. He stuffs his legs into the tiny, allotted space for them. I would make a comment about how large he is, but I’m not in the business of boosting men’s egos.

I press the push-to-start and begin navigating my way out of the parking lot. It takes a bit for my phone to connect and begin playing music, but when it does it fills the car with a familiar tune.

Noah reaches over and spins the dial to turn up the music. It doesn’t fully register in my mind what song it is until Noah speaks up.

“Is this the hippie rock band you’re representing?” He asks, a bit of sharpness to his voice.

“I-I well, no, I just-“ I’m caught off guard and stutter. I’m new to handling more than one client and having them not know about each other seemed like the best course of action. But I particularly didn’t want Noah to know since I knew he’d compare what I do with others with what I do with them.

“It is, isn’t it?” He snaps. “You manage Greta Van Fleet?”

“I… well,” I pause then sigh out of pure exhaustion. “Yes. I manage them.” I say flatly, somewhat annoyed. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business though.”

He’s silent for a moment, seemingly just taking in the song – Lover, Leaver.

“You’re right. They’re nothing like us.” He announces simply. “The voice on that singer is insane though.”

I can’t stop my brows from furrowing, and from one abruptly propping up.

He’s not upset.

He’s not upset?

“Yeah… I know.” I reply cautiously, glancing over at him to decipher the unbothered look on his face.

“Well, don’t look so surprised, they’re good. I can appreciate good music, can’t I?” He lets a few moments pass. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. They sound so familiar…” He trails off in thought.

“I know, you were expecting Harry Styles.” I joke. “But it’s not, so you can chill.” I tap my fingertips across the leather steering wheel.

“I knew it wasn’t Harry.” He shifts in his seat, crossing his arms across his skinny waist with his hands draping over his sides. He rests his head on the door looking out the window. “If it was, you wouldn’t have taken us.”

“I bet you wish it was Harry Styles then huh?” I say as a somewhat half joke and glance over at him while mindlessly tapping my fingertips on the steering wheel. He stays silent, just watching the trees go by. I can’t tell if the silence is intentional or if he’s just zoned out.

Some time passes before he returns to the conversation.

“Well, I don’t care if you represent them. Just know that I’m not dressing up like some wizard man like your other singer.” He warns firmly with a playful pointed finger.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sebastian.”

Next Chapter -> 12 - Liar, Liar*

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @kingdomof-omens @persuasivus @strawberryruffilo @thebadchic @the-hell-i-overcame @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @cncohshit @dominuslunae [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N: Thank you if you've made all the way to chp 11! lol thank you for reading anything i write. thank you so much for every like, reblog, ask, or comment. It means the world to me truly. Thank you.

i love hearing your thoughts so feel free to share! (i'm really bad at responding to comments/asks but i still love them 🥺)

[kylejsugarman]

this is such a small petty thing but i really hate when people only consume horror franchises and series thru those "i explain ALL OF (horror series) in 2 hours" videos where its just a guy literally summarizing 5-10 movies with like wikipedia-level details and then giving his opinion on them, and then proceed to make generalized statements about the franchise solely based on the video and what The Guy Said. "i dont want to watch all 8 movies of (blank)!!" ok then u dont have to, but u were willing to sit thru a 2 hour video summarizing them and now u want to critically speak on each movie and the series as a whole?? im sorry but i think its important to actually sit and watch an entire movie front to back before u form an opinion on it. u miss so many nuances and just straight up info from consuming film via a guy's 10 minute summary interspersed with 5-second copyright-avoidant clips. even if its fucking "jason takes manhattan", like u dont have to love it, u dont have to engage with it, but at least Watch It before u make judgments on it.

[watchoutforthefanfics]

achievement unlocked 🔓 (part sixteen) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt + BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: cursing, mention of toxic relationships, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: Fun fact, I have never been to New York. Another fun fact their outfits are based on some clothes I have and Pinterest !!! Enjoy :))]]

Richie felt like he was on cloud nine, floating. Like a cartoon cat who was smelling a fucking pie. He had the whole rest of the day, eating some doordashed food with Eddie on the couch -wrapped around each other (Eddie's hair smelt like strawberries if you wanted to know). Richie clung to him, and just like he said before, Eddie didn't mind at all. Maybe even wrapped around him tighter, maybe even slipped his fingers to tread through his hair, maybe even wanted him closer. The trash TV was like a comforting murmur, and eventually with the rhythm of Eddie's hand in his hair, and the thrum of his heartbeat under his ear, Richie found his eyelids a little too heavy.

Eddie near instantly dragged him off to bed ("You're gonna hurt your back, dipshit."). And Richie doesn't remember too much after that, except for maybe the smell of strawberries.

Richie shifted, blanket scratching up against his skin. He hummed and went to stretch his arms, but found himself stuck. For a second, he thought it was numb but-

A tiny little snore.

Richie blinked, eyes shooting to the weight on his arm. And there he was (close enough to see without his glasses, although he doesn't really remember taking them off).

Eddie curled up against his side, his head tilted back a little and diagonal from Richie's eyesight. His eyes flicked along his face, the faded freckles he seemed to always be noticing. And his long fucking eyelashes that were so fucking... delicate, if Richie had to describe it somehow. He looked like a painting, all intricate details and just bliss, completely vulnerable. An Eddie no-one really got to see (but Richie fucking was).

Richie eyed his arm, which was under Eddie, and laid flat against the bed. He moved it to wrap around Eddie, fingers pressed into the soft fabric of his shirt. He actually didn't even know what he was wearing (he'd kinda passed out as soon as he hit the mattress), but it looked like a set of some kind with fancy trims.

With sudden realization, he realized just what he was looking at. Fucking Eddie, his boyfriend, cuddled up against him. Right, he'd driven 43 fucking hours, and he was here. With Eddie. Real Eddie. Eddie whose puffs of breaths Richie could feel on his face. Eddie whose heartbeat thrummed against his skin. Eddie. Fucking Eddie, his Eddie-

Richie raised his other free hand, and carefully threaded it through Eddie's hair. It was naturally soft, because, of course, Eddie fucking took care of his hair.

Eddie's nose scrunched up for a second, and Richie froze in place -halting his breath in his chest and eyes wide.

Eddie shook his head a little, just barely to the left, and Richie watched him carefully. And then, with a breath, Eddie pushed himself further into Richie's chest -nuzzling into his shirt like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Fuck, Richie wanted to cry.

Pressing his lips together and taking a deep breath, Richie moved his fingers out of his hair -careful and considerate.

Fuck, god, Richie was so fucked. So entirely fucked. He loved him so much, he doesn't think he could love somebody else as much as he loves him. Eddie is just... He's fucking Eddie. The only Eddie. His Eddie.

Richie smiled, wrapping his arms tighter around him. He kinda wished he could stay here forever. Although it would be so shit without Eddie talking to him, he might go fucking crazy. Richie had been alone for too long, and now, he had Eddie. He was used to Eddie and god, it would feel like he lost a fucking limb if he lost Eddie-

"Stop thinking so hard, idiot."

Richie blinked, as Eddie's finger thumped against his forehead.

"Did you just fucking flick me?" Richie laughed a little, voice a little scratchy.

Eddie moved a little, not enough to get out of his grip, and wiped at his eyes (Richie almost physically cooed), "You were in your fucking head about shit that you didn't need to be."

Richie stared for a second, before questioning, "How could ya tell, Spaghetti?"

"Because," Eddie started, brown eyes set on him and finger pushed into Richie's chest, "-I know you, asshole. I'm right here and I love the shit out of you. So, fucking stop."

Richie blinked. He loves me, right.

He was not really used to him saying that, nevertheless him saying it physically in front of him. Eddie saying anything nice to him right now meant triple the... emotion, because Eddie was right there, and he was real, and he meant that shit. And Eddie wouldn't let him think for a second that he didn't.

"I love you too," he finally said, meekly.

Eddie stared at him tilting his head, before reaching a hand up to fidget slightly with his hair. Like he could fix it (which with just waking up, he certainly could not). And fuck, maybe he really did like his hair-

"What shit do you wanna do?"

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, "What?"

"In New York," Eddie hummed, still entirely focused on his hair, "-You said you wanted to do some tourist-y shit. So, tell me."

Richie offered, "You said you didn't want to, Eds. That's-"

"Yeah, but you fucking want to," Eddie spoke, finally connecting their eyes, "-I'm gonna do what you want, shithead."

"If you don't-"

"Richie," Eddie leveled bringing both of his hands to hold the sides of his face, "-I'm gonna fucking do it because I fucking want to, so just tell me what you want to do."

Richie pressed his lips together, thinking, "I dunno, I wanna get like a... cheesy souvenir, and I wanna at least see the Statue of Liberty-"

"Central Park?" Eddie questioned, a little like he was planning, "-Times Square?"

"Fucking Times Square-" Richie grinned -excitedly, "-that would be so sick. All those fucking billboards that are way too fucking big, and the crowds of people. I could be like Avril Lavigne on her album cover-"

"That wasn't fucking Times Square," Eddie smiled, patting his cheek patronizingly, "-but nice try."

"A New York street," Richie dismissed, waving his hands around, "-It's the same fucking thing in like... aesthetics."

Eddie turned away from him, pulling himself up and against the headboard. Richie watched him, eyeing the pajama shirt. It was, in fact, a set with long sleeves, matching color, and fancy trim (Seams? Collars? He had no fucking clue what you called them).

Richie wouldn't expect anything less of Eddie Kaspbrak. Because of course, he had matching pajama sets. Fuck, he loved the shit out of him-

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie shoved into him, "-get up. We've got shit to do."

"What happened to resting?" Richie whined, gathering himself up into the covers and hiding his face away.

"You're rested, fuckface," Eddie tugged the blanket off of his face, and Richie was grinning too bright to be mad, "-We have to get a fucking move on. We gotta put all my shit in your car, go on whatever fucking trips you want to, and then get the fuck out of here."

"Okay, but that can-"

"Oh, and the salon," Eddie grabbed Richie's glasses and slid them onto his face, naturally, like he'd done it 200 times over, "-or some fucking... haircare place."

Richie blinked, taking in the very much clearer Eddie silhouette -who was not looking at him (fidgeting with a bottle on the nightstand). His eyes snuck over his bedhead and the skewed collar of his shirt, something Eddie normally wouldn't be fucking caught dead with. And Richie got to see it. Maybe he should literally fucking pray to thank whatever the fuck is up there that he got to-

Wait.

He furrowed his eyebrows, "A salon? What? Why?"

Eddie sipped some water and then turned to Richie, brown eyes solid. They were the fucking epitome of doe-eyed, he'd never even known what the fuck that meant until he saw Eddie, actually-

"They are gonna teach me how to deal with-" Eddie threaded a hand through Richie's hair, it physically almost got stuck but Eddie seemed unphased, "-this. So, I can fucking take care of it. Or make you. Or both. Probably both."

"Seriously?" Richie sat up beside him, not before stretching out his arms -just like he had tried earlier that morning, "-Is it that shitty or something?"

"No," Eddie tsked, immediately, "-It's not. Don't even start that shit, you're handsome as fuck either way. I just want it to be healthy."

"Do you do shit to your hair?" Richie asked (remembering the soft feeling of it between his fingers).

"I don't 'do shit' to it," Eddie mocked, stating straightforwardly, "-I fucking take care of it."

"Yeah, whatever," Richie dismissed, "-What do you do to it?"

Eddie pressed his lips together, before answering, "Just hair masks and shit, healthy shampoo and conditioner. I don't shower every day because your hair needs oils and nutrients and showering every day washes them away-"

Richie listened -attentively.

"-But, you'll need more shit because of your hair texture. So, I have to learn."

Learn how to take care of my hair. Because you like it. And you love me-

Richie smiled, "Whatever ya wanna do, Eds. You know I love you so much that I'll let you do fucking anything-"

"If you love me so much," Eddie interrupted, pointedly, "-fucking get up and get dressed."

Richie waited a second.

"For me," Eddie finished -a touch softer, more convincing. It was good, Richie's resolves were really fucking slipping. Fuck, he could probably convince him of literally anything.

So, he did it.

Richie ended up pulling out some slightly too-big jeans that creased and loosely fit him (held together with a black belt), a slightly cropped shirt (it was a bigger size, so the crop was lower) that was embroidered with the words 'extra spicy', and a red chili pepper. It made only a little of his skin show, which Richie had initially been weirded out by. But Bev had kinda helped him with... clothes, and he believed in Bev wholeheartedly, so he wore it with pride. (Not to mention, she had pushed it to the nines because he was fucking finally getting Eddie.)

So, he was a little more... fashion-forward today.

With a breath, he fidgeted with himself in the mirror. He's not entirely sure why because Eddie had surely seen him in worse. Yeah, so maybe Eddie had a point the other day. He wanted him to like how he looked.

Whatever, if he hates it he can always change-

Knock, knock.

"Richie?" Eddie echoed out, pointedly, "-C'mon, we got shit to do."

Richie took a deep breath, and moved to open the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Richie teased -playfully, and opened the door, "-I'm gonna miss the bus, yada, yada-"

"Just fucking-"

Eddie stopped.

Richie paused, turning to properly look at him. His eyes were stuck on him for a second, eyes skimming over his clothes. Shock-still.

Fuck. Did he not like it?

Richie scrambled, pulling at his shirt slightly, "Is it not... I can change-"

"Shut the fuck up," Eddie interrupted, sharply, "-You just... It looks good. I just, I didn't know you wore fucking... crop-tops."

"Is that bad?" Richie pressed his lips together, "-Do you not-"

Eddie stepped forward, grabbing Richie's arms solidly, "Stop. I just said it looks fucking good. I like it a lot. I'm just surprised."

"Oh," Richie blinked, "-okay."

Eddie blinked again, a flush of red crawling up his collar as he stared -unabashedly. Richie fidgetted with the end of his shirt, self-consciously. Eddie's eyes followed the motion a moment.

With a breath, Eddie snapped his eyes away, and muttering, "Jesus fucking Christ."

Richie laughed a little, skimming over Eddie for a second. His hair was still the kind of messy Richie liked, loose and just a little styled. He was wearing some pretty casual stuff, a big kinda ivory (was that the word?) t-shirt with brown overalls and big clunky sneakers with beige accents-

He blinked, fucking overalls?

And Eddie's cheeks were a flaming, splotchy red -cheeks puffed up. Fuck, he was so fucking cute, it made Richie wanted to sweep him up and keep him forever-

"You look really good too, Eds," Richie added, after a breath, "-Really fucking cute."

Eddie blinked, pressing his lips together -a little awkwardly, "Thanks."

Richie loved him so fucking much. He couldn't help it.

Leaning forward and kissing him once, domestically, like he was a husband going off to work in the 1950s or some shit. But it meant enough. Casual, like it was going to happen again, like it meant they had enough time to be casual, like they were going to kiss so much and for so long that eventually it would be fucking casual-

Eddie stared at him for a second, before leaning forward and doing the same thing -once.

Richie laughed, echoes of mouthwash mint on his lips -stronger because he'd just done it. He thought that he might never be able to see mouthwash the same again. Especially after Eddie. Would it be weird if he changed mouthwash? Or got a stronger toothpaste? Would he lose that familiarity? Would they kiss enough for it to be familiar? Probably. He could spend his whole day kissing Eddie, would prefer it, actually-

"C'mon, moron," Eddie grabbed his hand, "-we gotta get fucking moving. Help me with these boxes in the corner first."

And so, they were off.

They put away all of Eddie's boxes (in a trunk that Richie was sure they wouldn't fit in but miraculously somehow they did), and tossed his suitcase in the back for easy access. They had six days after this, after all. Well, unless they stretched it out that was fine with Richie. Except for the streaming part, he probably needed to catch up on streaming soon.

With that, Eddie was pulling his apartment key out of his pocket and handing it to a new lady (one that seemed a lot nicer). And the two of them were standing out on the New York sidewalk -the world at their fingertips.

Richie was still pretty mystified, eyes shooting along the buildings and the people. But, Eddie didn't waste much time.

"Phone," he patted his pockets, routinely, and Richie snapped to him (giving him his full attention, per usual), "-wallet. Do you have your keys?"

Richie pulled out the ring (which had an assortment of little keychains on it), shaking it a few times, "Sir, yes, sir!"

Eddie laid a flat stare onto him, but Richie could see his lips quirk up ever-so-slightly. Which was a win in his book.

"Yeah, yeah, it's a stupid bit, I know," Richie shook his hand -dismissively, and then interlaced it with Eddie's, "-Alright, Kaspbrak, lead the way."

Eddie smiled a little, eyes darting to their hands for a second, before straightening and starting to speedwalk in a direction (luckily Richie's long strides matched up with Eddie's speed perfectly), "We should hit Times Square first because the longer we fucking wait, the busier it is."

"Whatever you say, Spaghetti."

Eddie rolled his eyes but tugged him along.

Unsurprisingly, Eddie both knew his way, incredibly, and parted the crowds like it was the fucking Red Sea (Moses? Right?). Maybe because of the stern frown pushed onto his features, or maybe because he exuded the energy of an angry chihuahua. And chihuahuas would fucking bite your hand off if you tried shit, so maybe they didn't want to test it. (Richie wouldn't, if he wasn't immune.)

Richie saw a lot on the walk, cute little cafés, benches, too many stoplights to be helpful, somebody cussing out a store owner. It was a little like he was in a theme park, everything bright and loud and new and either really good-smelling food or fucking sewer stench. It was kinda fucking magical.

Before he could note anything else, Eddie pulled him over by a metal umbrella table beside some sort of restaurant -significantly out of the way of the sidewalk.

"What are you-"

Eddie grabbed Richie's shoulders and spun him around with one forceful motion. And then-

There was the rush of footsteps, the shine of billboards, and the elaborate fucking signs.

"Holy shit," Richie laughed -eyes scattering along the buildings in awe.

It wasn't like it was a magical moment, not really. If he was honest, it was kinda stimulation overload. All the noises and lights, but at the same time, it was cool as shit. He felt like he was in some movie, where the music swept up and the camera spun around him like he was having some sort of revelation-

Eddie squeezed his hand.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, and spun to meet Eddie, thinking it might've been a sign that he wanted to say something. It was pretty loud so he probably couldn't-

And before he could speak, Eddie tugged his face down to his and kissed him. No hesitation. A kind that made Richie's head spin, heart fluttering, and brain quietening to a low buzz (he prayed he'd get these kinds more now). Because everything was just so... Eddie. Quick and emotional and impulsive and just fucking... passionate like he'd been waiting years-

Eddie pulled back, and Richie let his eyes flutter open slowly -head twirling.

Eddie was smiling at him when they parted, and it made something warm shoot down to Richie's toes. Because god. That's my fucking boyfriend, and he's smiling (smirking really) about making me blush? Fuck-

"Jesus," Richie laughed a little, "-The fuck was that about, Eds?"

"The way you looked was cute," Eddie shrugged, before adding casually, "-Plus, somebody was staring at you."

Richie burst into laughter then, "Look, I love ya, and believe me I am not complaining, but you can't just kiss the shit out of me every time someone so much as looks at me-"

"Who says?" Eddie retorted (Richie's heart skipped a beat, you're gonna kiss me like that again?), before continuing, "-And she was making her way over to you. I can't just take that shit."

"How do you know she wasn't just a fan, Eddie baby?" Richie teased, and he watched the pink flair up onto his cheeks with pride.

"Because your fans are sick in the head," Eddie retorted, "-and would've just interrupted us."

"You were a fan once," Richie laughed, pulling himself back and fidgeting with his hair, "-You know that, right?"

"I still am, moron, and I also didn't say I wasn't sick in the head," Eddie clarified, "-You're like a fucking parasite."

"Wow, how romantic," Richie spoke, flatly, but grinning all the same.

"No, I'm just-" Eddie let out a sigh, "-It's really fucking easy to be obsessed with you, is what I'm saying, dickhead."

"Are you?"

"What?" Eddie asked.

"Obsessed with me," Richie asked playfully -raising his eyebrows, suggestively.

"Richie," Eddie leveled seriously, "-I'm so obsessed with you that it's fucking clinical."

Richie blinked, "What does that mean exactly?"

"I spent a year and half silently watching your streams because I thought you were the most attractive person on the planet, I text you literally 24 hours a day," Eddie listed, stubbornly, "-I have entire album on my phone dedicated to pictures of you both before and after we were dating-"

"Wait, wait, wait-" Richie laughed a little, "-before we were dating?"

Eddie's face went cherry-red, cheeks puffing up, "Just fucking... stream screenshots and stuff. From when I just thought you were... Fuck you."

"You're the cutest human being on this fucking planet, Eddie Kaspbrak," Richie leaned forward and gave him an obnoxiously wet kiss on the forehead (Eddie scrunched up his nose), "-and I love the shit out of you."

Eddie broke into a little smile, "I love you too, idiot."

"But yeah, I have an album for you too, Eds," Richie grinned, "-So I think it's safe to say we're obsessed with each other."

"You should see the one I have as my phone background-" Eddie laughed a little, and Richie snapped to attention.

"What?"

"You're my phone background?" Eddie repeated, curiously, "-Is that a problem, or-"

"No, what," Richie smoothed his hands down Eddie's arms, "-That's just so fucking sweet, and I wanna see which one it is like... yesterday."

"You remember that day you were cooking? And listening to fucking Snoop Dogg?" Eddie asked, smiling, as he turned on his phone.

Richie moved to peek over his shoulder, "Yeah, of course, the day you told me I was your first fucking boyfriend. Still unbelievable, by the way-"

"Well, you were doing your cute little fucking scenario thing, and then your glasses fogged up, and well-" Eddie turned his phone toward his gaze.

Sure enough, it was Richie -shocked (he remembers forgetting Eddie was there), hair a mess, and glasses foggy. It wasn't the most special picture, but it meant a lot to Richie then. Because what? You chose that silly ass picture over ones that might physically look better? Because you love me? Totally and completely? And you love my weird shit? And you love me-

God.

Richie moved from behind his shoulder to press a kiss to his cheek, a simple one. He thinks it spoke enough. Eddie turned to match his eye with a sneaky little smile, and it made something in his head swim because, fuck, did he love the shit out of him.

"We gotta get going," Eddie turned and pressed a kiss to Richie's cheek (it made him go bright red).

"Yes, dear," Richie said -nasally.

Eddie shoved into him, hard, and Richie stumbled in place but they both were laughing. Laughing and smiling and Richie thought maybe he wanted this for the rest of his fucking life. And he let himself think that for once.

"C'mon, dipshit," Eddie called, laughing and intertwining their hands again.

"Yeah, yeah, lead the way, Kaspbrak."

And he did.

They went to the salon then, Eddie guiding him into this purple accented place that smelt so good that Richie physically closed his eyes.

"Hello," a woman with the sickest dyed hair (a purple gradient of some kind) Richie had ever seen smiled, "-What can I do for you two today?"

"Your hair is awesome," Richie spoke (he couldn't control his mouth).

"Thank you," she smiled politely, a little genuine though, "-Did it myself, actually. My girlfriend helped though."

"Speaking of," Eddie interrupted, kindly though (he was so straightforward that it might be a little rude if you didn't know him well), "-I actually wanted to ask you about his hair."

Richie obediently went to his side.

"Yeah, of course," she answered, "-What about it?"

Eddie moved a hand up to thread through it -casually, "It's curly, and he doesn't know how to take care of it, but I want to. Can you help me with that?"

"So," she started like she was just reassuring, "-you want to know how to take care of his hair?"

"Yes," Eddie answered -succinctly, moving his hand down from his hair and almost on instinct, Richie moved to wrap his arm around Eddie's shoulder to replace it, "-I like it this way, but I want it to be healthy."

"Oh, no, totally," the woman motioned with her hands, and started guiding them into the building, "-I get it. I can 100% help you. Do you want me to recommend products? Or do you just want to buy them here?"

"Whatever's good for his hair," Eddie answered.

"So, we're supposed to sell the products here," she stage whispered, "-but I know some better stuff for beginners."

"Thank you... um," Eddie started, asking without asking.

"Shit, sorry. I'm Emmy," she offered, laughing a little, "-I've got you guys."

"Eddie," Eddie motioned to himself and then, to Richie -who waved with his freehand, "-and Richie."

She paused for a second.

"I hate to say this, but," Emmy tilted her head, looking at Richie, "-do I know you?"

Richie smiled a little, "I stream. Trashmouth Tozier on Twitch?"

"No shit, my girlfriend loves you-" she grinned, "-She's always talking about you and-"

She paused, eyes connecting with Eddie.

"No fucking way," she laughed, still gently guiding them (towards the hair washing station, he thinks), "-Oh, if she was here, she'd lose her fucking mind."

Richie squeezed Eddie closer with a tug, just in case. It wasn't always the nicest experience being recognized, especially for the first time. Eddie nudged himself more into his side, and Richie turned and pressed a kiss onto his temple -near instinct.

"Yeah," Richie responded, "-I'm glad she's into my shit."

"She loves you," Emmy stressed, "-If you're okay with it, I'd love a picture. Just to say it happened? Just you, not Eddie. I know you're not in the spotlight or anything."

Richie smiled, opening his mouth to say something-

"It's okay," Eddie interrupted, "-I'll be in the picture, that's fine. It's only a matter of time until he starts fucking posting me everywhere. So, I don't mind."

Richie paused, grinning -squeezing Eddie into his side and leaning his head onto Eddie's. He doesn't think he'll ever willingly let go of Eddie, ever. That's all on Eddie. Eddie can let go-

"Just make sure to keep it off social media until he posts me first," Eddie added, casually.

"No, yeah, of course-" Emmy agreed, before motioning for Richie to come sit down (at, in fact, one of those washing stations), "-Let me get you started, actually-"

And then, she showed Eddie everything. Or well, Richie assumed so. He was getting his hair washed, which meant he was kinda useless. Getting your hair washed by someone was just so... relaxing. He heard Eddie talking, he knew that, but his mind was just a low buzz. His eyes closed, he just moved with the motions.

Richie was only a little more aware when she was styling. He was, honestly, a little scared that she was gonna bring out a straightener or a curling iron (he'd had some scary experiences with them before), but she didn't. Instead, Emmy did some like scrunching motion with some shit Richie didn't note. To be fair, he was fucking distracted as shit-

Eddie was so focused, typing away on his phone's notes app. To take care of him. To take care of Richie. And he was supposed to be normal about that shit? Yeah, right.

He had this set look on his face, complete focus as Emmy spoke to him. And then, she'd let him help. With the washing, his hands would smooth through his hair; with the styling, she'd let him do some parts. They were talking, yeah, but all that Richie could look at was Eddie in the mirror. All he could focus on-

Eddie was staring at Emmy, big brown eyes attentive and ever-so-curious. Hands ready to type away on his phone, eyebrows pressed together (with a cute little wrinkle between them), and biting his bottom lip slightly in focus. God, Richie loved the fuck out of him.

He walked out of there with shiny hair with significantly less frizz. But not enough for him to feel weird, he still felt... Richie. If that made any sense. He was always worried about changing his hair because it wouldn't feel right but this felt pretty good. Well, it helped that Eddie kept fidgeting with it, and Richie physically melted every time he did. And he wanted him to do that shit more, all the time maybe-

"Richie," Eddie snapped in front of his face, "-Are you in your head again? I won't hesitate to fucking-"

"Shit, sorry, I'm fine, Eds, just-" Richie blinked, "-You keep touching my hair."

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, "Is that... bad?"

"No, Eddie baby, not at all, it just-" Richie laughed a little bit, tilting his head, "-It makes me zone out. Makes my brain go fuzzy and shit."

Eddie hummed, stepping on his tippy toes to fix some of his curls with smile, "Yeah?"

Richie laughed, even still leaning into his hand a little, "You're such a little shit."

"Pay attention to me next time, then, asshole," Eddie bit back, grinning just a little.

"Awe, Eds, wants my attention," Richie cooed, moving his own hands to brush along Eddie's face and crouching slightly to match his eye, "-You've got it. Tell me, Eddie baby."

"You are such a shithead," Eddie smiled at him, the kind that made Richie's head a little woozy, "-I was saying, do you wanna go get some ice cream? I know a place by the Statue that's good, you'd like it."

"Eds," Richie leveled, grinning at Eddie (like he couldn't help it) "-first off, I'd do literally fucking anything you wanted. Secondly, you're the one with the sweet tooth-"

"Shut up," Eddie laughed, and something in Richie swirled.

"-but as said with point one, if you want it, Eddie baby, lead the fucking way."

Eddie rolled his eyes, just staring at Richie, a smile split across his lips that made Richie want to twirl his hair and kick his feet. And maybe kiss him senseless. Which actually-

Richie leaned forward and pecked him, just because he could. And he wanted to. A simple press of the lips, that made Richie's head twirl slightly, made him stumble over his feet for a second. Eddie laughed when he did it, and Richie preened.

He could hear no one else's laughs forever, and as long as he had Eddie's he'd be totally fucking fine-

When they separated again, Eddie's eyes were soft and sappy -detailing all over his face, and hands rested on his cheek, "I can't believe you're right fucking here. Right in front of me."

"No shit," Richie laughed a little, "-I thought I might've been dreaming when I saw you this morning."

"A dream?" Eddie cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, Kaspbrak, if you look up Richie Tozier's dream man-" Richie asserted, "-You'll be right fucking there. In your cute little angry gremlin glory."

"Yeah, well," Eddie puffed up his cheeks -which were flushed by the way, "-you're my dream guy too. Obviously."

"I would hope so," Richie teased, smiling big, "-What kinda celebrity crush would I be if I wasn't your dream man-"

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Eddie shoved at him, but not far enough to let him fully go. Brown eyes solid on him, skimming along his face so affectionately that Richie wanted to squeal like he was in the audience of a boyband concert (because fuck, he loves me).

"I love you," Richie hummed -low and just between the two of them.

"Love you too," Eddie grinned -more serious than usual (it made Richie's head spin), "-Let's go get some fucking icecream."

The walk was surprisingly short, which made Richie think that Eddie had either planned this or was really fucking good with directions. Which, he could picture either. It might've been both actually.

"Here, let me just-" Eddie dug into his pocket, ready to pay.

Richie intercepted, near immediately and tapped his phone, "Yeah, no, Eds, sorry. I'm covering it."

"Richie-"

"Uh, uh, uh," Richie tsked, shaking his head and pocketing his phone (after the cashier confirmed it went through), "- it's your first date, Imma wine and dine ya."

Eddie frowned, obviously biting back a smile, "It's icecream at the Statue of Liberty."

"Oh, Eds, my sweet summer child," Richie pat his face, other hand holding his cone, "-I'm only getting fucking started."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Eddie questioned -following him and interlacing their free hands (something in Richie swirled).

Richie smiled, "I got shit planned, dear Spaghetti. Halfway courtesy of Big Bill. Which, you should be very proud of me for."

"Proud of you for what?" Eddie snorted, "-Fucking planning?"

"Yeah, exactly," Richie addressed, licking his icecream, before lowering his voice, "-I'm a new man for you, Eddie Kaspbrak."

"Better not be," Eddie retorted, straightforwardly, "-I like the old one."

Richie laughed, splotchy red climbing up his collar, "Funny, I like you too, Eds. We should date."

"You think so?" Eddie grinned -tilting his face to properly look at Richie.

"Fuck yeah, I do," Richie affirmed, walking where Eddie was guiding him, "-and then, tomorrow, you can move in with me."

"Yeah?" Eddie smirked.

"Well, as long as you're okay with 43 hours with this fella right here," Richie tried to point a thumb at himself, the icecream cone didn't exactly help the cause, "-then I'll sweep you off your feet to San Francisco. Best boyfriend ever style."

"Best boyfriend ever?" Eddie quoted, teasing, "-Those are some high fucking stakes, Trashmouth."

"Yeah, well," Richie let out a (exaggeratively) nonchalant sigh, "-I'll deliver. Plus, you have no other experience so-"

"Shut up, asshole," Eddie laughed, and Richie wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it forever. Store it in his pocket for when he is feeling sad. Or maybe just listen to it because he wanted to-

"I think you already are," Eddie hummed, walking forward with their swinging hands between them.

"Already am what?" Richie questioned.

"Delivering," Eddie looked at him with twinkly eyes and a warm smile (that made Richie's heart leap in his throat).

"Really?" Richie laughed, "-Two days and I'm in the ringer-"

"Yeah, I mean-" Eddie explained -letting go of his hand just to fidget with Richie's hair again, "-you let me drag you to a salon because I'm neurotic about hair health."

"And you-" Richie stressed, "-went to a salon to learn how to take care of my hair, by proxy take care of me."

"I told you I was gonna take care of you, dipshit," Eddie echoed, stubbornly, "-I don't say shit I don't mean. Especially not to you."

He'd dealt with a lot of empty promises from guys, a lot. Because they knew that's what Richie wanted, something sturdy, something safe. An unmoveable object that loved him. Someone he couldn't scare away. And they all used to say that was impossible ("I really care about you, Richie. And that's not gonna change."), but it did. It always changed (or maybe it wasn't the way they said it in the first place at all). But Richie fell for it every time because he craved it so desperately, and he wanted to be fucking... special to someone because he hadn't felt special his whole life. He felt invisible and he just wanted someone to see him.

And now, he was here with Eddie. Who saw him and couldn't fucking look away, didn't want to, actually. Who made promises and said things so solidly that Richie couldn't help but believe them. And if he didn't, Eddie would work on it until he did. He fucking loved him. Everything about him. Everything. The stupid accents, his dumb shirts, his frizzy hair. All the things that other guys didn't want to be caught dead with were Eddie's fucking favorites! And every time Richie hated something like that, an imperfection, Eddie set him straight. Because he loved every part of him, every single atom, and he wasn't gonna let any of it get shit on. Not even from Richie himself.

Eddie Kaspbrak was everything Richie Tozier physically wanted and everything he didn't know he needed.

And on top of that, he loved all Eddie's shit too. His snappiness, his perfectionism, his affectionate bullying (that Richie hoped he'd never have to go another day without), and his huge ass capacity to fucking... care (that sometimes he saw as negative, too much). If Eddie was freaking out, Richie could, and would, soothe it. Eddie was safe with him, and he thinks that's really important to Eddie. So, it's gonna stay that way. Richie will be a human shield to him if he has to, like that one fucking picture of that soldier, taking all the bullets. He'd protect Eddie, but only when he needed it. When he wanted it. He didn't always need it, but when he did. It was there, it would always be there. Forever, probably.

Richie Tozier was built for Eddie Kaspbrak, just like he knew Eddie Kaspbrak was built for Richie Tozier. Two peas in a pod.

Yeah, sure, maybe a weird fucking pod, but still. Richie, personally, couldn't ask for anything better.

"Yeah, Eds," Richie hummed, throwing his arm over Eddie's shoulder and leaning his head on Eddie's -both of them looking out to Lady Liberty herself, "-I know."

[lifewithoutmeds]

june 29, 2023

thursday, 7:34 p.m.

as usual, upon writing, i’m feeling minimally better today than i have probably been for at least the past 10 days.

i’ve been stuck in a cycle of getting out of bed late, watching dumb youtube videos, reading dumb facebook posts, and eyes just pretty much glued to my phone every waking hour of everyday. i’m looking at weird stuff too, outside of my normal healthy stuff. i’m watching police body cam video of people behaving badly and the police actually having a lot more patience than the average person, and i’m reading a lot of AITA and “Entitled Karen” posts on facebook which are usually just a bad, ad-ridden collection of reddit posts with poorly written commentary and unnecessary summary surrounding it. typically halfway through or so, before i get to the clickbait story i had initially seen that had drawn me in, the whole website crashes and i have to go back to facebook and scroll through until the next thing catches my eye. i watch/listen to youtube until i fall asleep, then sleep for anywhere between 8 and 13 hours, depending on what i’m required to do the next day. last friday i slept for 13 hours. last “night” i fell asleep before 6:30 p.m. 

it’s a weird sensation. there’s nothing in the day really to look forward to or that gives me much joy or hope. sleeping seems like the best course of action. i struggle to do simple things like take out the trash/recycling, wash the dishes. i’ve been only showering maybe once a week and even getting the mail seems cumbersome.

work is rough. i have no problem sitting at the dining table, but tearing my eyes away from the phone even for a few minutes is difficult. i sit, uncomfortably for hours on end, but get very little done. i respond to most emails but have difficult doing the work or research that they entail.

i’m not eating well, i’m not exercising, i don’t have a lot of plans for the future or goals that i can think of. everything seems quite wearisome. there may have been one day in the past week where i went outside for a morning walk, but otherwise it’s felt too hard to do so.

however, it seems the days in which i have the strength/motivation/wherewithal to journal, those are relatively good days and not representative of all of the days in between.

the last couple weeks in review: monday, june 19: had dinner with my mom at a very expensive but extremely mediocre sushi restaurant off of foothill in la crescenta next to a car wash. i should have known. we then went to the burbank AMC to watch Past Lives, and got some Pinkberry frozen yogurt in between. the movie wasn’t great, but also learning that my mom had gotten dangerously close to hanging herself at the sylmar house closet while living with my dad was extremely upsetting and triggering. i spent days ruminating over that as well as my dad’s behavior the past 40 years and wondering whether i should just cut ties with him completely. tuesday, june 20: amy ended up canceling for lunch, as she had meetings come up. wednesday, june 21: grabbed a drink with gyoon after work downtown at the arts district brewery before meeting esther and her sister for dinner at the nearby Taberu. dinner was ok, then we got a few drinks afterward at Propoganda. i tried to be in good spirits but was really struggling mentally to keep it together. friday, RDO: slept an unhealthy amount. 13 hours, beating my old record of 12 hours. saturday, june 24: spent the entire day cleaning and preparing for at home kbbq dinner with tracy and her wife. also taught and played a few games of monopoly deal. also briefly saw amy and her daughter on their way home from their visit to see jenny. tuesday, june 27: in office. wednesday, june 28: WFH plus psychiatrist zoom appointment in which i updated her on my medication side effects, namely: a decrease in itching/rash and sobbing, and an increase in sleepiness, irritability, random irrational pain in my foot, and rumination. she seemed pleased that the itching/rash had gone away and starting today i increased my dosage from 25 mg to 50 mg. unfortunately, the effective dose is 200 mg and i can only ramp up 50 mg at a time and side effects can onset at every dose increase so i could anticipate two more months of despair and side effects before feeling any better. looking ahead: friday: will be hosting xio and matt for kbbq dinner. will need to clean and buy groceries. will be good to see them, but i know they’ve been struggling physically (xio) and mentally (matt) so i’m a little nervous that we’re all so sad but maybe it’ll be ok. saturday: celebrating zoe’s bday at lana’s place. taco guy will start at 12:30 p.m. but i’ve been asked to come earlier, around 9am to come help. also to bring my Yeti. looking forward to seeing people and getting out of the house. sunday: church with mom. tuesday, july 4: will go hang out with Rhiannon as we both have no other friends and no other plans. friday, july 7: will hang out with stephen, who i haven’t seen in years. saturday, july 8: quasi-monthly brunch with amy (lee)

my life feels stagnant and without hope or joy, but i suppose a tiny minuscule part of me wants to live as it keeps texting people stupidly and making plans that i have trouble keeping up with at times.

  random journal prompt: what is a unique talent that you have?

so i had to scroll through like 20 prompts before i could find something that i thought i could think of a response. i think i’m good at explaining things without making people feel bad. i think i’m a fairly good teacher and i think i do it in a way that feels genuine and well-intentioned and non judgmental. i’m thinking recently of how i taught tracy how to surf fish and tracy and her wife how to play Monopoly Deal. i don’t really get frustrated with explaining and re-explaining as necessary, and it’s so important to me that they don’t struggle and have a good time, that i think i check in a lot with them, for understanding, for their feeling. i think i’m good at not pushing things onto others if i sense they’re not feeling up to it. i think i create a non-threatening environment, and i think i’ve been able to teach and share my interests with a lot of people in that way, mainly with fishing and monopoly deal. i try to make sure people have a good time. i think that’s a good thing.

[lobster-tales]

Beat the Daylight

Sequel to Face the Noise, an Arcane Rock Band AU

Rating: M

Chapter 11: The Girls’ Night

Summary: Boys' Night Round 2

CW: Alcohol. Like, a lot of alcohol. 

This work is available here on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Vi wiped a hand through her recently showered hair, socked feet thumping on the stairs as she came down. She skidded on the tile of the Kiramman’s kitchen, scouring the cabinets for a post-workout snack, then joined Lux and Caitlyn at the table. She pressed her lips to Caitlyn’s temple in passing, taking the seat beside her and leaving one arm draped over her shoulders. “Sup Lux,” she said. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Lux kept reading, her book splayed on the table. “Why not?”

“Weren’t you and Ez getting dinner?”

“Oh,” said Lux. She pressed a finger to the page, marking her place as she sighed. “I thought we would, but I forgot it’s boys' night.”

“Boys' niiiight,” Vi repeated under her breath.

When Caitlyn scoffed, her breath rustled the tea label dangling off her mug. “Another one? That’s a weekly occurrence at this rate.” She sipped, thinking. Her face lit up with an idea. “What if we have our own? Like a girls' night?”

“... Girls' niiiiight?” Vi prodded.

A smile bloomed on Lux’s face. “That could be fun!”

And thus, girls' night was born.

It turned out that, among the three of them, Vi had the most experience with sleepovers. Caitlyn was too picky with her friends as a child, while Lux’s parents were too picky with hers’. Vi, however, in primary school, was notorious for being the best ally when it came to facing playground bullies, therefore she was invited to sleepovers often.

They traveled (in disguise) to the grocery store, Vi suggesting different items: hot chocolate toppings, ingredients for s'mores, and red plastic cups… just in case.

When considering the list of attendees, Caitlyn mulled over whether or not to invite Mel. She eventually did, sending her a quick text. She got no response, and assumed that Mel wouldn’t be able to find the time. At least she would feel included..

Sky was also invited. Though she was long distance, she participated via video call while they watched an animated musical. The movie in question was about a Chinese warrior, and Caitlyn was sure to point out every cultural detail in the film’s plot, as well as whether they were correct or incorrect. In between these moments, Sky told stories about her new life in Noxus, how she had to adjust to the dramatic shift in environment.

Part of the shift included a time zone difference, which ultimately caused Sky to head to bed early. Just as the three mansion dwellers began making hot chocolate, the doorbell rang.

Tobias answered, having lingered on the edge of the girls’ evening, wanting to participate but knowing he wasn’t allowed. His voice echoed in the foyer. “Oh, Senator! What a pleasant surprise!”

Before Caitlyn could start wondering which of her mother’s coworkers had decided to drop by after hours, a honey voice followed the click of heels. “Sorry I’m late, Tobias. I do hope Caitlyn’s not cross with me?”

“Of course not! Here, let me help-” He led her into the kitchen, arms full with a liquor case, grocery bags dangling off his elbows. His face was squinched in an attempt to appear stronger than he was, and Vi took the bit.

“Okay, Toby,” she said in admiration. “I see those delts.”

He beamed, before his eyebrows wrinkled and he set the case down.

Caitlyn surveyed the display: the case was a mix of red, white, and rosé wines, as well as one bottle each of whiskey, tequila, vodka, and gin. Mel must have bought out the local grocery’s entire meat and cheese section, along with fruit and vegetable trays. Two bags were filled to the brim with face masks and nail polish, and another had a mix of teas and hot chocolate. It would have been more than enough food and alcohol for forty people, much less four.

At their silent, wide-eyed expressions, Mel shifted. She so rarely looked uncertain: it was an interesting change. “Well, I- I wasn’t quite sure what to provide for a ‘Girl’s Night’. I thought it would be better to be over prepared. Just in case.”

“Mel,” Caitlyn said, impressed. “This is-”

“Fucking awesome!” Vi threw an arm around Mel, squeezing her in a side hug. Caitlyn assumed that Vi would be turned off by the extravagance, but perhaps her desire to comfort Mel outweighed her disgust.

Lux was also excited, clapping her hands together. “Amazing! What do we want to do first?”

“Shots,” Vi commanded. She made for the Kiramman’s rarely used bar cart, returning with four dusty shot glasses. After rinsing them, she removed the tequila from the case, whistling under her breath. “Damn, Mel, this is top shelf shit. If we served this at the pub, we’d have to keep it on the roof.”

Mel grinned. “Normally, it would be considered sipping tequila, but under the circumstances, we can make an exception.”

Vi poured with the ease of someone who served alcohol on the regular, sliding the shots to their respective drinkers. “Alright, girl’s night on three. One, two, three!”

“Girl’s night!”

Caitlyn had two years of shot-taking experience under her belt, Vi teaching her early on in their relationship. But while the two of them downed their tequila in a quick gulp, both Mel and Lux sipped at theirs gingerly.

“Fuck,” Vi said. “That’s smooth.”

Lux coughed, trying her best not to look revulsed. “Is it?”

3 drinks, 2 games, and 1 round of painted nails later, they were all tipsy enough to cheer when Mel suggested they partake in the oldest and most sacred Girl’s Night tradition: boy talk.

“I’ll go first,” Vi volunteered, laying back onto Caitlyn. “I don’t have any boys to talk about, I’m a lesbian. Next?”

Mel scoffed. “Fine, we’ll call it ‘partner talk’, though it doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.”

“Ahh, man,” Vi pretended to wince. “You guys should meet my girlfriend, she’s a real bi-”

Caitlyn slapped her arm playfully. “Oy! Enough of that or I’ll spank you.”

“Promise?” Vi purred.

“Well,” Mel surmised. “All good there, then.”

Caitlyn grinned, burying her nose into Vi’s neck. “All good here.”

Lux asked, “What about you, Mel?” though only afterwards did she consider the implication. “I- I mean, only if you want to tell us.”

“I have no secrets,” Mel said with a coy shrug. “You all know Jayce and I are involved.”

“Yeah,” Vi leaned forward. “About that. Just how involved are you? Like are you dating or just fucking?”

“Violet!” Caitlyn reprimanded.

But Mel was unfazed. If anything, she looked satisfied at the brutal honesty: she probably didn’t get enough of it in politics. “It’s a fair question. The answer is somewhere in between, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lux.

Mel considered the mixed drink that Vi had made for her. “Well… My love life has always taken second priority to my career. I’ve never been able to commit to any one partner because my job demands so much of my time. So when Jayce and I first became… entangled-”

Vi whooped crudely. “Yeah, you were.”

A small smirk played on her lips before Mel continued. “It was the perfect situation. I could still enjoy the um, ‘benefits’ of a relationship without committing.”

Lux prodded, “It was the perfect situation?”

“Yes,” Mel said. She said the next words slowly, trying to come up with a more delicate phrasing. “Jayce is just…”

Caitlyn snorted. She knew exactly what Mel wanted to say, even if she was too tactful to say it herself. “Needy.”

She let out a relieved breath. “Yes! And there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just that he needs a lot of attention and… time. Something I don’t have. And something that Viktor had a lot of.”

Understanding weighed down the room. Vi murmured, “And now Viktor’s gone…”

“He’s just been taking it really hard. I think he just got so used to Viktor’s presence that it’s been very difficult without him. Of course, he has Ezreal, but they don’t really discuss matters of the heart. He just feels… alone.”

Caitlyn felt a stab of guilt. She had been so wrapped up in her investigation and managing the band, she hadn’t even thought to check in on her best friend.

Mel came back to herself. “Ah, my apologies, I don’t mean to dominate the conversation.” She raised her drink towards Lux. “Speaking of Ezreal, how are things between you two? You both seem well.”

“Yeah.” Lux took a long swig of her beverage, then slurred, “Yeah, I think I'm going to break up with him.”

The only sound in the room was a delicate gasp from around the corner, followed by the soft thud of Tobias’s footsteps as he realized he’d been found out. But none of them gave him a second thought, too stunned by Lux’s words.

“What?” Caitlyn and Mel said together.

“Why?” asked Vi. “Haven’t you been together for like… years?”

“Yeah.” Lux sighed. “And don’t get me wrong, it was great at first. In high school, we hung out every day, and after class he’d drive me out to these abandoned buildings and old cemeteries and he’d tell me all about the history. He took me to my first concert, and we both started taking music lessons together, and… it was great.

“But then, senior year happened, and things… changed. Ezreal started getting more popular. And I mean, of course, I’ve always been ‘popular’ but that’s just because my parents were rich and everyone felt like they had to be nice to me. But senior year, he started dressing differently, focused more on his online image. He had this idea that we were going to become this influential, pop idol power couple. Which was nice, I guess, I just never really wanted that. I just wanted to play music because… you know, it’s music.

“And now we’re here and it seems like every time we go out for dinner, he just wants to talk about the band and our presence on social media. And I just feel like, at some point, he stopped dating Lux, and he started dating Luxanna Crownguard.”

They listened, solemn in their silence.

“I-I’m sorry,” Lux said, catching herself. “Does that make sense?”

“Well, of course,” Mel assured her. “When you put it that way.”

Lux grinned, relieved. “That and… I like someone else…”

A collective “Oooh” caused Lux to crush a pillow against her chest. Vi asked, “Anyone we know?”

“No,” Lux said quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. “Just someone I met online.”

Mel’s eyes flashed. “Speaking of crushes…” she said slyly, lifting her drink to her lips. “I heard Ekko’s got one.”

Another collective “Oooh”. Lux and Vi shared knowing glances, and Caitlyn felt a twinge at being left out. “Who?” she asked.

“Zeri,” said Vi.

Caitlyn gasped. “The opener from round one?”

“I do like her,” Mel mused. “Technically, she’s from Zaun, but she told me she would sign with us if we won the contest.”

Lux giggled. “No wonder Ekko wants us to win so badly.”

Vi said with a smirk, “Cuz he’s got a little spark of his own.”

They all laughed, the sound echoing beyond the room. Caitlyn couldn’t remember the last time she heard that much laughter in her parent’s home.

“Well,” Mel said, clapping her hands. “We’ve played games, painted our nails, and talked about boys. I would say that’s a successful girls night.”

“Not yet,” Vi said, rising with a stretch. “Not until we’ve played some drinking games. So what’ll it be, ladies? Flip cup? Beer pong?”

Mel cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of those.”

“WHAT.” Vi’s volume was accentuated by her insobriety. “You’ve never heard of flip cup? C’mon, Lux, let’s teach her.”

“I can try,” Lux said shyly. “I mean, I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never actually played any drinking games before.”

“Really?” Vi gawked at her. “Not even in high school?”

“I didn’t really… go to parties in high school. You know,” Lux propped her chin on her flat hand. “Image to maintain and all.”

Mel added, “And regrettably, I had a private tutor. Though I’m sure I speak for both of us when I say we would love the education.”

A mad smile spread on Vi’s features. “Alright, new goal for the night: I’m going to teach you every drinking game I know. Flip cup, beer pong, rage cage, you name it. Cait!”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes fondly. “What is it, love?”

“I need 20 plastic cups, two ping pong balls, and a deck of cards. Stat.”

                                                       ☆ ☆ ☆                                                        

There was only one thing that could tear Jinx away from her video game, or rather, one person. She couldn’t hit the pause button fast enough, diving for her phone. She had set a special notification for Lux’s texts, a shimmery wind chime sound. Jinx was surprised to get a message from her, especially so late at night. Lux usually went to bed early. Well, not early by normal people’s standards, but early for Jinx.

What was even more surprising was the text’s contents:

Lux: Hiiiiiiiiiiii ;) ;)

Before Jinx could respond, another text came through.

Lux: Hi drunk I’m jinx

And another.

Lux: Hehe wyd

Jinx gave an honest answer, then asked,

Jinx: the real question is wYd

Lux: Kicking names and taking ass that’s wat. im really good at rage cage n vi’s mad

Jinx: eh she’s always mad

Lux: And i won flip cup too

Jinx: Nice

Lux: When are u takin me outtttt!!!! U said u would

Jinx: Ur boyfriend doesn’t mind?

Lux: UGH i don’t wanna talk abt him i wanna talk about us baby let’s talk about u n me

Jinx couldn’t hold back her surprised smile. Whenever Ezreal got brought up in their nightly phone calls, Lux was quick to change the subject. Jinx didn’t know what to think about it, until now. Maybe Lux had made a decision. But she didn’t want to push the subject, so instead she asked,

Jinx: Alright, then when do u wanna go?

Lux: After next show. U promise?? To take me out?????

Jinx: Promise

Lux: Cool im send cute pics form the bathroom

The pictures began to flood through. Lux was disheveled, cheeks red, the photos blurred. She sent a myriad of faces, her lips kissing the air, tongue sticking out. Jinx giggled as the pictures gradually got sillier, her expressions more dramatic.

Then the background changed. Lux was no longer inside the sterile, clean guest bathroom, having relocated to the Kiramman’s dining room. Jinx recognized the carnage of drinking games: cups and cards scattered haphazardly over the wooden table. Lux’s selfies at first held her face in the front while Caitlyn and Vi played games in the background with… was that Senator Medarda?

Lux then pulled in her housemates and Mel into her selfies. At first, Caitlyn and Mel were shy, but warmed to the camera and even began to make their own silly faces to match Lux. But Vi’s drunkenness made her more than enthusiastic, her blushed cheeks crinkled as she stuck her tongue out, fingers shaped into horns like a rocker.

It had been a long time since Jinx felt like she was left out. She knew that the feeling wasn’t really fair, everything considered, but it still ached.

Her legs dangled over the edge of her bed as she fell back, unable to look away from Lux’s messages. That hope was still fluttering around in her chest. Fishbones snapped at it from the darkness, but his plushy form was too sluggish, his words now muddled and empty.

Maybe… Maybe one day…

Someone knocked at her bedroom door. A secret knock, that only one person knew. A knock that always preceded him.

Silco looked tired, lingering by the door. Giving her space, consent. “Can I come in?”

She never refused him. Tonight was no exception. The comforter rustled as she patted the spot beside her on the bed’s edge. The mattress barely moved when his thin body sank into it.

“How’s the band?” he asked her. His voice was hoarse, probably from a string of back to back meetings.

“Fine. Finn’s being an ass, Sevika’s moody.”

He let out a knowing chuckle. “And Viktor? He’s settling in well?”

Her walls went up. “I guess. I don’t know.”

“... It’s okay, Jinx. I know you two are friends.” There was no judgment in his tone, only concern. “You don’t have to get defensive.”

“I’m not defensive,” she lied.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. He had discarded his usual long coat: his white tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She noticed a small, dark spot on his shirt, his upper arm. She could have sworn it looked like a splatter. Some red liquid. Jinx looked away: she didn’t want to know.

“Actually,” he murmured. “I’m glad you have a colleague. Singed and I were very much the same. It’s important to find someone you can work well with. Especially since I’ve been somewhat… M.I.A.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “You’re busy.”

The scar on his lip twitched as he smiled at her. So few people ever saw him smile. That’s how she knew she was special, right from the beginning. “And how are you, Jinx?”

She wanted to tell him. So badly it burned. She wanted to spill everything about Lux, about their nightly calls, about sneaking backstage to see her and accidentally running into Vi. She wanted to show him the pictures Lux was sending her, to laugh together at the antics of the other band, save Senator Medarda’s awkward winking face as her contact picture in their phones. She wanted to tell him about how much she liked hanging out with Viktor, not just the information she found out from him, but how much she really cared for him, deep down.

But something stopped her. Some tiny, flashing light in her mind that warned her. A warm voice, her sister’s voice, gentle but wary: Don’t, Powder.

“Jinx?” he asked.

“... I’m good.” To throw him off the scent, she embraced him, pressing her head into his bony shoulder. “I’m really good.”

“... Good.” And he embraced her back. “Our empire will be ready soon, Jinx. Sooner than we could have ever imagined. And it’s all thanks to you.”

The words should have been comforting. Why weren’t they?

He pressed his lips to her temple, and rose. “I’m off to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” As soon as the door closed, she pulled her phone out from beneath the mattress, grinning at the 36 missed messages.

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The girls had only run half the gauntlet of drinking games when Mel, mid giggle, held up her phone and huffed. “Oh, not again. It’s Jayce.”

“UGH.” Vi slammed her hand on the table. “What now?”

“Apparently boy’s night ended poorly: Ezreal stormed off.”

Lux let out an amused snort. “Classic. He’s always been a sore loser.”

Mel said, “Jayce wants me to come over.”

“And?” Caitlyn asked.

“And what?”

“What do you want to do?”

Mel looked between them all, woeful. “Well… I never really get to do things like this. I’d really rather not leave…”

Lux suggested, “You could invite him here.”

“And Ekko!” Vi yelled. “Tell them to get their asses over here.”

Mel looked to Caitlyn for confirmation. “Is that alright?”

Caitlyn grinned. “Sure, but under one condition. They have to do face masks with us.”

[intergalacticaquarium]

Reader visits Family Video practically every day, and tries to get service only from Robin, ignoring Steve 🥰

Hoooooo boy went a little overboard with this one but I really really really love it so much- maybe not exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it!

This Week at Family Video

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington friendship (and character study) Robin Buckley x a girl who I guess is technically an oc

summary: A cute girl keeps coming into Family Video and Steve is determined to wingman his best friend Robin into a date with her, which turns into a deeper bonding moment when Steve realizes he's grown a lot but there's still room to go and Robin realizes that she's not as alone as she feels.

Content/warnings: Robin talks about how it feels to be closeted in the 80s so there are allusions to period typical homophobia and a quote from Steve from season one which is uncool. It's just like....an analysis of the friendship between the lesbian and the straight himbo and how there's a lot more to it than bonding over hot girls.

(Also I mention a couple movies in here and I have seen none of them so don't @ me)

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9k words

Monday 

    It was an average day at the Family Video. People filtered in and out, a few of whom garnered some appraising, and, admittedly kind of objectifying glances from the two clerks that sat behind the central desk, who’s eyes would flash up as the bell ring, look at each other and make a subtle face to indicate whether or not the thought the girl that just came in was cute. 

Robin admits openly to feeling bad about this ritual, and Steve agreed that it was pretty sexist and they shouldn’t be collectively checking out chicks that came in and consulting on their hotness but at this point it was almost involuntary and hard to avoid when Steve all but lept over counters when a pretty girl walked in. Robin told him that she only did it now so she knew if she’d have to be working the sales desk for the next 2-8 minutes until he’d get rejected and come back to help but he didn’t buy it for a second.

The bell over the door rang and they glanced up to see a cute girl with intentionally messy hair, some oversized layers, and a bucket hat walk in casually. Steve and Robin both looked at each other with raised eyebrows just before Steve walked around the counter.

“Welcome to Family Video- anything I can help you find today?” Steve said, turning on his charm, regardless of how overzealous he was with it at times. “I’m Steve, and you are?” He said, sticking out a hand. The girl looked a little overwhelmed at the attention and laughed awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah I’m Leslie.  I’m just looking for a movie that nobody else seems to have.” She said with a laugh and a furtive glance at Robin, who prepared herself to step in quickly.

“Well, obviously we have a wide, wide selection of movies, what kind of things are you into? Tell me about yourself.” He said, leaning seductively against a shelf and knocking a few of the empty cases to the ground and picking them up while attempting to look like he hadn’t missed a beat. Robin couldn’t help but widen her eyes in mild horror at how poorly he was doing. Then her eye caught the girl’s, who met it with the same look that said holy shit, are you seeing this? Robin nodded and silently laughed as she watched the girl turn back to Steve’s attempted flirtation with an overly exaggerated interest and nodding that Robin delighted in seeing was entirely sarcastic.

“I’m actually looking for something pretty specific that I’ve been having a hard time finding.” She interrupted after the humor of the situation had worn off.

“Of course, yeah- what do you need?”

“A film called Hour of the Wolf?” she said nervously, and Robin’s ear perked up.

“OH, yeah I love that one- Michael J Fox as a basketball playing werewolf- who thinks of this stuff? I used to play basketball, you know. Didn’t need the wolf powers, though-”

“That's Teen Wolf, Steve.” Robin corrected from the counter, earning a grateful glance from the girl, who walked over to her quickly, and Steve threw his hands up and sighed.

“We don’t actually have Hour of the Wolf which is a shame because it really is a masterpiece.” Robin chimed in, pulling a thoughtful face

“I’ve been trying to get stupid Keith to get it but he says there isn’t enough demand. Shows what he knows.” Robin said, making Leslie smile and her own heart flutter at the sight. 

“Whoever Keith is sounds like he’s got quite the expert on his hands…” She said cheerfully.

“If you're into arthouse horror stuff though you should check out Eraserhead.” Robin suggested, and Leslie shrugged.

“Arthouse? Is that like a place, or..?” Steve asked, trying to stay in the conversation, but was largely ignored. 

“Sure. If you recommend it I’m sure it’s a winner...” She said, a little cheeky, glancing down at her nametag so obviously that for a second Robin thought this girl was checking out her rack in the middle of the store.”Robin.” She finished, saying her name clearly. 

 Robin thought that maybe for a second there she died and was resurrected, but it turned out to just be butterflies. She stuttered for a moment, telling her about the cinematography as she got her the movie and finished lending it. As she walked out Robin sighed, glancing at Steve.

“Once again, you blew it, Steve.. I really wish I still had the you suck board.” She said with a wry smile.

“Yeah…I know you do, Robin. I know you do.”

Tuesday

The next day at Family Video, Steve was peppering her with questions to Robin’s ire.

“Okay, explain one more time what an arthouse movie is?” He asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Why do you want to know? You already blew your shot.” She criticized while put away the tapes.

“Alright, you don’t know that. And she’s not the only arty chick in the world. Maybe that’s why I haven’t had any luck lately.” He guessed lamely and Robin gave him a dead stare.

“You are telling me that the reason you can’t get a second date is because you haven’t met a girl that is artistic enough? You, Steve Harrington, want a girlfriend who’s primary interests are in arthouse cinema? Is that really what you’re saying to me?” Robin asked incredulously, stopping herself from laughing at the idea of Steve on a date with a moody poet who wanted his opinions on verse. Maybe she should help him if she’d get to hear about that. 

“Just give me another movie like that to recommend her if she comes back in.”

“I don’t know- Dr. Strangelove.” Robin pulled out of thin air. He was definitely about to ask more questions but at that moment the bell rang and there was the girl from yesterday.

She gave Robin a big smile and waved the tape in her hand as she walked over.

“Holy shit, Robin. Holy shit.” She said, putting both hands on the counter. She remembered my name, Robin thought giddily.

“Is that a good holy shit or a bad holy shit?”

“It’s a holy shit holy shit.” Leslie said, still a little bit stunned. “I mean, the last scene? With the bandages? I mean what the fuck? I mean it’s a…bold recommendation to make to a stranger that’s for sure but it was a good one.” She said, giddy, and all of a sudden Robin’s worst fears came true: she opened her mouth and couldn’t shut it.

Fun facts about the movie, her favorite things about cinematography, favorite movies in order, all of it came pouring out involuntarily. Steve sensed her panic and stepped in front of her.

“I think what Robin meant to say was that you should check out uh, Doctor, uh,” he glanced at Robin quickly, who tried to mouth the words subtly even though Leslie was standing a foot away. Steve read her lips and confidently looked to the customer and said: “Doctor Trained Dove. It's great. Arthouse.” 

Leslie tilted her head and pulled her lips between her teeth like she was trying as hard as she could not to laugh, Robin put her face in her hands and Steve grimaced, reading the room correctly and guessing he hadn’t gotten the title right.

“I haven’t heard about that one. What’s…it about?”

Steve opened his mouth and looked at Robin helplessly.

“It’s a musical about a surgeon that becomes a magician. It’s a lesser known sequel to Doctor Strangelove.” Robin said dryly, glaring at Steve when she said the real title and Leslie laughed and bit her lip.

“Didn’t know Kubrick did sequels.” She said teasingly.

“No, this one is John Hughes, actually.” Robin said, sarcasm not coming through as much as a hopeful punchline that she was obviously shocked to see land.

“Well, Unofficial Kubrick sequels aside, do you have another recommendation for me?” Leslie asked, now leaning on the counter.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hear about 2002?” Robin said, her voice now fully transitioned to that of a person daydreaming and unaware they were talking aloud.

“I preferred 2003, actually.” Leslie played along, and Robin knew she was laughing too hard as it was happening.

“Or 2004, right?” Steve cut in , and they both looked at him awkwardly as he ran a hand through his hair. “Seems like it’s a long time from now but it’s not that far, huh? Weird. End of the century."

Two two women just stared at him blankly and just like that the magic was broken. Robin was no longer in the nonexistent John Hughes movie where she was the one that got to kiss Molly Ringwald over a birthday cake and the three of them were just standing in a video store again.

“Have you seen Holy Mountain?” Robin suggested, and Leslie left with it in hand.

Robin and Steve sort of just stood there in shock at just how badly that interaction had just gone.

“Maybe you’re my bad luck charm. I feel like the last time I was cool was before I met you.” He said contemplatively.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response besides the fact that I didn’t put you in that sailor outfit. If you want to get her attention tomorrow you’re gonna have to study up, man.” Robin said with a laugh, and Steve frowned at her and cocked his head.

“Me?” He asked, and Robin looked at him with confusion.

“Yeah? I thought you liked her.” 

“I mean she’s cute but I was kinda getting a…. Hm?” He said with a vocalization and a hand gesture that Robin didn’t understand.

“C’mon man, you know I have a hard enough time reading people as it is.” She complained.

“What vibe?” She asked incredulously.

“A vibe, Robin, there was a vibe.”

Steve looked around to make sure nobody was around so he could remind Robin that she was a lesbian and he was pretty sure that girl was flirting with her. 

“She was totally flirting with you.” He said quietly, and Robin looked at him far more aghast than she had any reason to be.

“What? No! No, of course she wasn’t flir- what would even make you think? I mean that’s just-” Robin stammered and Steve’s eyebrows got higher and higher.

“Alright, alright, alright, don’t start spiraling. You seemed into her, though, right? I’m not about to violate bro code and ask out the girl you like just because you’re a chick.” He said in what she assumed was a tone that bros used to talk to each other with a shrug and Robin just set her jaw in disbelief and well meaning annoyance.

    Not for the first time since she met him she imagined getting into a time machine and traveling to Ms. Clicks class and leaning over to whisper to herself See those two right there? See sweet, beautiful Tammy Thompson staring at that dick Steve Harrington? In a couple of years one of those people will be the single person on the planet earth that you have ever told that you’re gay and the best friend you’ve ever had in your life.  I’ll give you one guess to who it is, and if you guess right I’ll give you a billion US dollars. Also you’ll be tortured by evil Russians together. 

    “Whatever- look, whether or not I think she’s cute she’s not a- y’know-” she said, grimacing instead of saying lesbian in such a casul setting without a self pep talk to convince herself it wouldn’t be weird.

    “Returning Fast Times at 53 minutes and 12 seconds?” He offered, and her shoulders relaxed and she loosely pointed at him.

“Right. Sure. She’s not pausing fast times and she’s cool- why shouldn’t you go for it?” She said, now surprisingly adamant in a way that Steve didn’t understand in the slightest as Robin was almost always apathetic towards his love life.

“Because I blew my shot? It’s fine, it happens. A lot, according to the You Suck board.” He justified it, but Robin had a determined look on her face.

“I could coach you! Yeah, she’s gonna watch Holy Mountain tonight, why don’t we watch it too and you can talk to her about it.” She suggested, and Steve emphasized the confusion on his face.

“Robin, it's fine if you like her. You know I don’t have any problem with-” he started, and she cut him off on the spiel. 

He did that sometimes when she was upset and he couldn’t figure out why- always jumpeing to defend himself and assumed he had said something wrong by mistake. It happened on occasion, Steve, as much as she knew his heart was in the right place, was still a white, straight male former highschool bully from Hawkins Indiana with parents that voted for Reagan, he was always honest that he was still unlearning a lot of shit and it was inevitable that something would slip out every once in a while. The first time it had happened, about a month after they started working at the video store she heard him talking to an old team mate and casually dropped the word fairy as a descriptor. She told herself he didn’t mean it but she had still let it fester until he was following her around while she restocked movies asking what’s wrong what’s wrong what’s wrong over and over again like a petulant child. She confessed loudly and angrily before looking around in fear that there was a customer. He swore at himself and apologized profusely and in that moment she was really reminded of that night in the Starcourt bathroom and how, despite how annoying he was, Steve Harrington had a heart even bigger than his hair.

It had been a nice moment, the next time he said something a little off-color he caught it himself, but still apologized a lot. It only got annoying when he started doing it every time he (unfortunately, usually correctly) identified that she was in a bad mood because of a problem that stemmed from her sexuality and assumed that problem was that he said something offensive by accident. The truth was that there were just always going to be some things that she would go through that he would never be able to understand and would be hard for her to explain. Half the time she hadn’t even taken the time to figure out what exactly it was that was bothering her besides the baseline level of worry that came with the small town closeted lesbian territory.

“I know you’re not homophobic, Steve.” She said and he stopped, nodding in relief, but then doubling down on his confusion.

“So then why are you getting all weird about this?” he asked genuinely, and Robin shook her head exaggeratedly, like if she did it super obviously he would believe it more.

“Fine, I’ll watch the movie.” He conceded, as they started to gather their stuff for the end of the day. Robin shook a triumphant fist with a silent yes as she grabbed her bag and  headed out the door to his car.

“I’m not being weird at all. I just think you have a shot and she seems cool. Also I haven’t seen Holy Mountain in a while and it rules.” She said all too casually, and Steve stared at her suspiciously. Robin wasn’t budging, mostly because she didn’t really know why she suddenly had the urge to push them together either besides the odd sensation of trying to make something go away on its own. 

“Is this gonna be a movie that I have to think about a lot while we’re watching?” He asked apprehensively, and did not care for the mischievous and possibly sadistic smile she gave him

Wednesday

    Robin and Steve sat on stools behind the checkout counter, Steve looked shell shocked, to say the very least. More so than he looked after last year's Russian Invasion. Robin was alternating between laughing at him and trying her best to be comforting and apologetic.

    “Steve, I told you you could close your eyes if it got too scary.” She said in a voice she hoped sounded genuine and that he couldn’t hear it shaking a little. He didn’t say anything, just leaned back against the counter staring downwards, unresponsive. “Okay, you’ve been doing this for like a day and a half the movie wasn’t that weird.” she said, and he turned to glare at her.

    “You know that’s not true, Robin. You know that.” He said emphatically, and they glanced towards the door as it rang.

    It was Leslie, walking in with a grin on her face and the movie in hand and Steve was pretty sure that this girl might actually be a serial killer. Robin liked it, too, though, so maybe they were on a crime spree together and they were definitely going to take him outside and skin him alive and hang it up and- ugh, Steve stopped and put his palms over his eyes to get the image out of his head.

    “Is…he okay?” Leslie asked, leaning past Robin to look at the unresponsive Steve.

    “He’s fine- we actually watched Holy Mountain too last night and he's contemplating it.” Robin said, glancing at Steve and pumping the eyebrows of a wingwoman, and scowled when he didn’t see her because his head was now resting against the counter.

    From his vulnerable state, Steve braced himself to hear them babble on about the perfect ratio of that shot of that lady banging that mechanical horse without legs but instead only heard Leslie respond with a disingenuously excited “Oh!”

    Robin was expecting the same as Steve, and she couldn’t quite decipher the way that Leslie’s eyes flitted between the two of them.

    “I’m guessing Steve wasn’t a fan?” She asked, and Robin laughed at him to which he responded with a dry ha ha ha said from under his arms laying on the counter.

    “Well, that’s commitment for you. Takes quite a guy to sit through a movie like that just because he wants to hang out with you.” She said with a tight smile.  The way she said it made Robin wish she was better at social cues because she knew for damn sure she was missing something. 

    “Yeah, he’s alright.” Robin said affectionately. 

    Steve was torn between warm fuzzies at the closest thing his best friend can ever come to a compliment and smacking her on the back of the head for not realizing that this girl now thinks that they’re dating. It never ceased to fascinate him that the person that can decipher Russian without knowing Russian couldn’t hear that telltale sound of jealousy and disappointment in the goodbye of a person who just discovered that their crush was dating sebody already. Then again, he could do that but couldn’t decipher the Russian, so maybe it was just a different skill set. 

    “Wow, I’m sorry dude I really thought that she’d want to talk to you about the movie.”

    Leslie let out a fake laugh and put the tape and some cash on the counter before walking away with an awkward wave and disappeared with the bell. 

    Steve pulled himself up off the counter, his forehead red from pressing against the surface and his hair messed up, and his look was one of utter frustration and disbelief.

    “Holy shit, Robin of course she didn’t. She wanted to talk to you about the movie. She left because she thinks we’re dating and it bummed her out.” He said, almost in a yell at the fact that he knew she wasn’t going to listen to him.

    “Ooooh, that makes more sense. See, I was right, her being jealous is proof that she likes you.” Robin declared and Steve dropped his head back onto the counter with a smack that hurt enough to drive that weird ass flick out of his brain. “I’m sorry you watched Holy Mountain for nothing though. She’s right, it is a rough one if you don’t enjoy it.” She said casually, almost certainly smiling maliciously. He began to smack his head against the counter and he was pretty sure he heard her laughing.

Thursday

    Family Video opened at 11 AM, so almost every morning after he dropped Robin off he’d go and try to figure out more ways to not talk to Keith for an entire shift. Today he had decided to take the stack of returns into the back room and rewind the ones returned by the “unkind” that he secretly wanted to kiss on the mouth for giving him a really easy and time consuming thing to do every morning until his break, where he’d go get Robin, listen to her rant about school, get some drive thru for the both of them, and then finish off the day with his best friend. 

    All in all, it was an alright gig.

    Except for Thursdays. Steve hated Thursdays.

    Because on Thursdays Robin’s band practice goes late and she doesn’t work a shift, and Keith takes off for long periods at random intervals and would leave him alone to mind the store on a pretty busy day of the week.

    Today was slow, both in passage of time and number of customers, so they canceled each other out and made the day suck exactly as much as last Thursday. 

    He continued to rewind movies, noting a few titles for later that seemed interesting. He took out the next tape and pushed it in. The movie turned on and Steve nearly fell off his chair when his screen was very suddenly two very naked women. He didn’t rewind yet as the two of them kissed and Steve glanced down at the tape. Desert Hearts. He quickly checked to see who returned it and it was, unsurprisingly, a long list of male names, a few of whom he recognized from various sports teams and parties throughout high school, and strangely Karen Wheeler of all people, but he wasn’t going to unpack that. 

As Steve scanned the back of the VHS box he read about the plot of the lesbian love affair that blossoms between the two women out west and a plan formed in his mind, and that plan would help him honor his Duty as a Man with a Heart a Soul and The Critical Social Skills Robin Buckley Lacks: He was going to get his best friend laid. Because that's what friends do.

-

Later that day Steve had an okay plan that could potentially pan out and now was just waiting for the opportunity, he just had to wait for Leslie to come in like she had every day this week. He leaned against the counter and idly watched the screens and glanced out the display glass as people passed by.

    That was when he glanced up to see somebody slowing down and peeking inside. It was Leslie. Whatever she saw, she looked away and kept walking. Steve tilted his head in confusion, but pushed the VHS tape into the player and waited. There wasn’t much business today and as the movie played he did find himself a bit enraptured in the drama between the two women. 

 The only time when his attention was torn from the weighty glances between Vivian and Kay was when he saw somebody pause outside the window. It was Leslie again, peeking in. When Steve met her eye and waved a little she looked like she had been caught red handed and awkwardly walked in and waved.

“Uh, hey Sam.” She said a little stiffly.

“It’s- it’s Steve.” He corrected, and she quietly apologized and wandered into the stacks.

Now that Leslie was actually in the store, Steve realized that his so-called ‘plan’ was actually just the idea to put the movie about lesbians on the tv and wait to see if she reacted. He wished that wingmanning for Robin didn’t have to be so subtle. 

She put the box on the counter and Steve began to slowly start checking out the movie to give her time for her to either look at the tv and say…something. This was a stupid plan, he realized, and he made a quick move to salvage it.

Using his stealth skills gained from years of monster hunting and high-stakes babysitting, he tried to secretly watch Leslie around the store and noticed that she seemed to not be looking at the movies, but at the staff break room and around the store for other clues about the whereabouts of a certain missing front desk associate. When her eyes caught the TV screen and saw the actresses that Steve hoped looked familiar her head snapped back in front of her and she stood very still, examining a box without really seeing it for what she deemed long enough to take it to the counter to make a quick escape.

“Do you like this movie?” He asked, pointing at the screen and unable to stop himself from visibly cringing.

She looked up at him incredibly awkwardly. “I’m…not sure what movie that is, honestly.” She said, and he was like 50% sure she was lying.

“Robin likes this movie.” What had happened after breaking up with Nancy that left him so much worse at talking to other people? Was it Dustin’s influence? Was it just that he didn’t know how to be charming without being a total dick? He knew it was probably that one.

Leslie gave him a tight smile. “That’s sweet that you’re watching her favorite movies. She’s a nice girl. I'm glad she’s got someone that cares.” 

“Yes! Robin is a nice girl!” He said energetically, even if that wasn’t necessarily a word he’d use for her. “She’s super cool and smart too. She speaks four languages and can translate Russian by ear.” he said, hyping her up, realizing now that Leslie had meant it’s sweet that you watch your girlfriend’s favorite movies.

“I…didn’t know that. Very impressive. You two make a cute couple.” She said, and it was audibly strained.

“We’re not dating. We’re just friends. Best friends.” He added at the end, a little embarrassed of himself. “But I do watch her favorite movies and thank you for seeing the value in that because Holy Mountain has literally been haunting me for two days and I just think that friends should get credit for doing that shit too.” He added in annoyance at nobody in particular.

“Oh!” She said, and he could hear the audible relief, and saw her glance back at the tv and swallow. Steve could see the gears grinding in her head and he could not believe that his terrible plan might be working. “That’s- I mean- I guess I just assumed.”

“Nope, not dating, she’s totally single. I asked her out a little after we first met because of all the cool hot smart stuff I said earlier but she was not interested and now we’re just friends.” He explained, trying to put emphasis on the not. 

“Best friends.” Leslie said gently with a smile, her awkwardness gone and replaced with a very cautious beginning of a theory he was trying to confirm without saying anything.

“Yes! Best friends. Because she’s the best.” He said, nodding, and then Leslie nodded too. They stood there in silence for a second before Steve remembered he was checking out her movie.

He went to write down the number and furrowed his brow when he saw the title.

“National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation? This doesn’t seem like your kind of flick.” Steve said oddly, and her cheeks got a little red.

“I was kinda waiting for Robin to give me another recommendation.” She said with an awkward laugh.

Steve saw his opening, and was closing in on his plan quickly and efficiently. “Well, Robin really likes this movie.” He said, stepping aside so she had a full view of the tv and the lengthy stares between the two actresses. “Do you want to rent it?” he asked, suddenly kind of hoping she said no because he wanted to finish watching it.

“Uh, sure?” She said, and he reluctantly turned around to eject it and making it a full spin when he came up with an alternative.

“Oooh no!” He said in a dramatic fake tone akin to a child's television star that didn’t see you come in but wants to show you some puppets anyway. “This is actually Robin’s copy of Desert Hearts, and not the stores. So I can’t lend it to you.” He said in an exaggerated voice.

Leslie furrowed her brow. “Then why is it playing?”

“Becaaaaaause….she thought I’d like it and she knew it would be a slow day and she wasn’t working.” He pulled out of nowhere.  “But- you should come back tomorrow, when she is here and ask her to borrow it. Oh! Maybe you could watch it together and talk about cinema! Now that’s an idea!” He said, knowing he was overplaying it while he was talking and as Leslie stared at him incredulously.

“You…want me. To come in tomorrow. And ask your friend Robin if I can watch her copy of Desert Hearts with her?” Leslie asked, and Steve nodded profusely at the secret code the two of them had developed. 

“Yes. That’s exactly what I think you should do. If you want to.” He said encouragingly, and he could tell that Leslie was running some serious cost-risk analysis gymnastics in her head trying to decide if this really weird situation was actually trustworthy. Steve knew that if he said anything else he could blow his cover, so he just kept his mouth shut.

A little smile came on Leslie’s face and she nodded.

“ I guess I’ll be back tomorrow, then.” She said, and Steve thought it was adorable how she was trying to hide her excitement.

She left with a little spring in her step and, unsurprisingly, National Lampoon’s stayed on the counter with him. Steve grinned, imagining how excited Robin was going to be, and started to rewind the movie because he was sure that he’d missed something important while he was talking to Leslie.

Friday

It was Friday at Family Video and Steve was acting….weird. 

“Dude, tell me what’s wrong you know I can’t read body language.” She scolded and he shrugged energetically.

“Nothings wrong. Everything’s great!” He said, and reached out to pick a piece of fluff out of her hair so she would look her best when Leslie arrived but she smacked his hand away.

“Don’t touch my hair-Is it the Russians again?” Robin asked seriously.

“What? No. Why do you always assume it’s Russian?”

“Because of the time that it was Russians.” 

“Yeah but it was only once.” He said calmly.

“That’s already too many times, Steve.” She said dryly. “Okay, fine, nothing’s wrong but something is up. What is it?”

He sighed. “Okay, but I’m only keeping it a secret because I don’t want you to freak out and get in your head about it.” He explained, and Robin’s eyes went wide.

“Oh no. What did you do?” she asked in horror. 

“Not oh no! This is good!”

“Tell me now or I’m going to punch you in the throat Steve Harrington I took a self defense class after last summer.” She said sternly. Robin didn’t like surprises. Especially after the Russian thing.

Steve leaned in conspiratorially, looking around the store to double check that no customers had snuck in. “Leslie’s gonna ask you out today.”

“What?” Robin squeaked, her eyes going wide and her chest filling up with that extra special anxiety that was cooked up for her specifically by Sappho two thousand years ago and Ronald Reagan now.

“Yeah! It’s gonna be great- I had a whole plan to figure out if she was, y’know, pausing Fast Times and it worked and she’s gonna come in later and ask if she can come over and watch your copy of Desert Hearts.” He explained cheerfully, hoping that his enthusiasm would break through what he really hoped was happy stunned silence.

“What? How did you..? Did you tell her I was- I mean what the fuck, Dude- and what is Desert Hearts?” She stammered, trying to gather her thoughts.

“You haven’t seen it?” He asked in shock. “Oh my god it’s amazing the chemistry between Helen Shaver and Patricia Charbonneau is electric and-”

“Steve!” She said, snapping him out of his review.

“Right, sorry. I didn’t tell her anything, I just put on the movie and said that you liked it and she said she also liked it and I said that she should ask if you want to watch it.” He said calmly. “More or less.” he added, but Robin didn’t look any less freaked out. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked her.” He asked, truly confused.

That happened sometimes. Steve would assume he  said something wrong but that’s just because he doesn’t like seeing her upset. If he had just accidentally said something shitty at least he could just apologize but more often than not it was just something that she didn’t believe she could explain to him. He had asked her to try, he was her friend and he knew that he was the only one that knew she liked girls- He wanted her to be able to talk to somebody- he hated that his best friend ever felt alone.

“It’s not about that you just- you shouldn’t have done that.” She said angrily and walked towards the counter away from him.

“Why not? You’re always helping me get dates- why can’t I help you too?” He asked, hoping she could tell he was confused and not just being difficult.

“Because it’s different!” She snaped.

“You always say that but maybe it isn’t! Maybe I would understand. We’re friends, Robin. Just because we don’t have the same experiences doesn’t mean that I won’t be able to listen and help you. You told me about how much you liked Tammy- I thought you wanted to meet somebody.” He said, and Robin glanced at him, her hard gaze softening to something more awkward and nervous and familiar.

“It’s just…” she started, screwing up her face and trying to figure out how to explain something that frustrated her about herself endlessly. “It’s- fuck- okay,” she took a deep breath and tried to start, quickly scrubbing her face with her hand. 

“I knew Tammy didn’t like me back. It wasn’t real it was just a stupid crush and it hurt like hell but it was still safe.” She tried, words spilling out of her.

“Robin, Leslie’s a nice girl. She’s not going to hurt you.” He said, pained at the fact that he got to ask out and get rejected by 20 girls a week and Robin could just watch from afar.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, it kind of is, you never really know it’s just- fuck.” she groaned in frustration, pacing for a moment before finally finding her words.

 “I don’t know what I’m doing, okay?” She said in a furious rush. “I’ve never done this before. It’s not like when you were ten and you got to walk up to a little girl on the playground and ask to hold her hand. I never got to learn how to flirt or ask my friends if the girl I like mentioned me or figure out when you’re allowed to put your arm around a date at the movies. 

“Robin…” Steve said softly, but she wasn’t done and he wasn’t going to stop her. She took another unsteady breath

“I didn’t get a first date, or a first kiss or a dance with my crush at the Snow Ball or-or ever get to ask my mom for dating advice or gotten to hear my dad sternly talk to my date before giving a nod of approval.” Robin sniffed hard, her eyes watering up as she valiantly fought away the tears.

“I didn’t get any of that. And I’m never going to.” She said, her voice now rough with emotion and a little quieter. She wiped away a stray bit of wetness from her eye and twisted her mouth up. “Nobody’s going to be pulling up in a limo to take me to prom.”

“I’m always going to be different, and it’s hard and it hurts that all of that is just gone now and I missed all of it and I can’t ever get it back. I’m never gonna be a kid at the Snow Ball looking at Kelsey Landin sitting by the punch and not understanding what was so wrong about wanting to ask her to dance. I couldn’t even doodle our names in a heart in my notebooks.” She took a gasping breath and wiped away a tear that finally fell. 

“It shouldn’t be like that.” She was almost talking to herself now, taking an angry breath and shaking her head. “I was just a kid. It wasn’t fair that for my entire life every person that has ever claimed to love me might have hated a piece of me so much that if I was sitting on the swing sets at recess holding hands with Jenny Becker instead of you then I would be utterly ostracized by everybody. Not just bullies. Friends, family, students, teachers, strangers. Grown-ass adults that would hate a child for the crime feeling the same way as every other kid but about the wrong kind of person.” Her voice was sad and proud and angry and valiantly holding down the waterworks that were going to come bursting through any second now. 

“I mean, Jesus, Steve, you’re the only person I ever told and I did it totally on a whim fueled by adrenaline and truth serum- you have no idea what it’s like not knowing if anybody else I care about might turn on me and ruin my life if they actually knew me. I still don’t even know if my parents would still fucking love me if they knew I wanted to watch a stupid movie with a pretty girl and put my head on her shoulder.” Robin was humiliated that she was fully crying now, sitting down behind the desk on the floor and unable to stop. She had kept all of this in for so long and now it was pouring out of her involuntarily. Steve walked away for a moment and she felt an irrational panic that he was going to leave and not wantt to be her friend anymore because she couldn't keep the ugly parts of it to herself and left any discussion of her sexuality at vague looks of hot or not when a girl came into the store. She watched him go to the door and her heart froze until he just reached out flipped the sign to closed before coming back and sitting next to her on the floor. 

Relief flooded her followed quickly by more misery that after all they’d been through her instincts still told her that she shouldn’t expect him to be okay with her saying any of this out loud and the tears came back in full force.

 Steve put his arm around her and pulled her close so she could cry into his shoulder and patted her back as comfortingly as he could as his heart just fucking shattered. He remembered when they were in the Starcourt bathroom and she said that if he really knew her then he wouldn’t even want to be her friend. The two of them had just been kidnapped and tortured by evil invading Russians armed with bone saws and floor eating acid and Robin was afraid to tell him that she had a crush on Tammy Thompson. Even worse is that she had watched him be King Dickhead Steve for years and he had almost certainly given her a reason to think he wouldn’t be okay with it at some point.

You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed because I always took you for a queer but turns out you’re just a screwup like your father. Was what he had said to Jonathan after telling Nancy to go to hell. He felt bad as soon as he said it, but that didn’t stop him. Back then he didn’t know how to be hurt he just knew how to be angry. He had been heartbroken, in love, and an absolute piece of shit about it. About thirty seconds after saying it Jonathan was beating the ever loving shit out of him and each punch really hit home the fact that he absolutely deserved it. 

He had actually thanked Jonathan later for very literally knocking some sense into him, and to his surprise, he forgave him. And it felt good. He hated who he used to be. He really did, so he had made a few phone calls and a few drop ins to make some heartfelt apologies to some surprised people that were genuinely shocked that he would ever have come around. The worst part is that he would never really know everybody that he hurt, never know who was out there overhearing him say something hateful and taking it to heart.

Robin was his favorite person. He wasn’t sure when it had happened but despite all his complaining she was somehow the only person he knew that really got him. She exploited that knowledge constantly and used it against him, sure, but she got him. He wished he could make her feel as understood as she did. But there would always be things like this that he never would’ve considered that she had gone through her whole life. 

Eventually her breathing calmed down and she sat up, her breathing a bit unsteady and her face red and puffy. She gave him a watery smile when she saw their matching tear tracks and she patted him gratefully on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry about that- that was-”

“You don’t need to apologize, Robin. I’m serious.” He said, looking at her so she knew he meant it. “If I’m the only one you have to talk to about this then I want to hear it all, even when it’s sad and it sucks. Especially when it’s sad and it sucks.” He said, and took a deep breath. “You’re not alone anymore. Anybody tries to mess with you or make you feel like shit just come and get me and I know that I’m not enough to make up for the entire world’s garbage but if there’s anything I can do to make all of that even a fraction less shitty for you then I’ll do it.”

He looked at his hands for a moment, feeling a confession of his own coming on.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, you know.” Steve said honestly, and Robin quirked an eyebrow. “Like, even though I was super popular and knew everybody I still only really hung out with Tommy and Carol and they were just the worst.” he sighed, not knowing how to say this without making it seem like he was trying to get out of responsibility for being a shithead. 

“I have never met two people so good at making somebody feel like a fucking loser like Tommy and Carol and there is nobody better at making you terrified of being that loser like they could. I’m not saying that they forced me to shove nerds against lockers or anything but any time I tried to do the right thing they’d just shut me down and taunt me until it felt like if I didn’t do whatever bullshit they wanted me to then everybody would think I wasn’t a real man or some shit and they’d drop me and then I wouldn’t be fucking King Steve anymore.” He shook his head, his hair wobbling as he swore and looked at Robin, unsure if he was getting across what he was trying to and he saw that she was listening, even if her thing had been bigger and more painful she still cared.

“And that’s exactly what happened. For the first time in my life I stood up to them instead of for them and Tommy punched me in the face and drove away. Never even tried to talk to me again. Then at school they started all kinds of rumors and talked shit about me all the time and then I wasn’t King Steve anymore and…” he trailed off and had a little smile “and then I was happy.” He said, in a little disbelief.

“I was thinking about that the other day, pointing at you and Tammy in Ms Clicks class and asking young Robin one day, one of those two people will be the only person you trust enough to tell that you’re not into dudes.” She said, a little mystically, and Steve burst out laughing, and Robin quickly followed. Their laughter calmed down and they knew that the storm had passed and they came out better on the other side of it. They grabbed each others hands to hoist each other back to a standing position and looked at  each other grinning.

“I didn’t fucking hate myself anymore, I got to follow my own instincts and do the right thing. Sure, Nancy dumped my ass and broke my heart and it actually felt so good to just…be sad. Without Tommy and Carol taunting and yelling at me until I felt so angry and pathetic that we’d spray paint her name on the movie theater again and I would’ve felt like absolute shit about it for the rest of my life. I was totally heartbroken but for the first time in my life I actually got to feel it and it. Then Dustin Henderson of all people comes sprinting at me one day and says that everybody else is busy and he needs my help.” He grinned. “It’s just stupid, right? All that time I only cared about being popular and if I could tell my younger self that someday I’d be working in at the video store for minimum and I’d spend all my time hanging out with a 15 year old egomaniac and a band geek that I was briefly a little bit in love with until she rejected me and the entire male population on the floor of a mall bathroom I’d do it and let him know up front that they’re honestly the reason that I’ve never been happier. Really rub his nose in it too.” He said, and Robin laughed aloud in that special way he recognized because it always preceded I was just about to say that.

“Is my face red?” She asked, touching it and being a bit satisfied at how healthy her skin felt after crying.

“Yeah but just give it a couple minutes.” He said, and she nodded. “Hey, when Leslie does get here you can go hide in the back or something if you really don’t want to talk to her, I know I overstepped, but if you need any advice on stuff you didn’t get a chance to learn let me know, no judgment- guaranteed.”

Robin furrowed her brow. “Wait- how exactly did your conversation with Leslie go yesterday? Did you just point at the screen and ask if she liked the movie?” She asked incredulously, and Steve slowly began to nod.

“Uhhh…yeah. That’s exactly what I did.” He said, and she started to laugh again. Steve grinned when he heard a laugh that seemed a little lighter now.

About an hour later the bell rang and Leslie came in. Steve nodded at her and went into the shelves to give quiet support and maybe some advice via arm gestures from behind Leslie, and Robin took a deep breath.

Both girls were extremely nervous, both giggling when their eyes met in a way that reminded Steve a bit of middle school. He smiled to himself and resented the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes when he thought about her getting a chance at simple, blushy, giggly, inexperienced romance for the first time. She deserved it, more than anybody.

“So, um, this is kind of a weird question but I stopped by yesterday to see if you have a copy of um…Desert Hearts?” Leslie said tentatively like she was giving a secret password at a speakeasy and hoping it was the right one.

Robin had a determined look on her face that didn’t necessarily give off a romantic vibe but he could feel her relentless bravery from where he stood.

“I’ve heard of it.” Robin tried to say mysteriously, waiting for the next part.

“And your friend with the hair- He said that, um, that you didn’t have it at the store but he said that you had a copy and that maybe…..you…might…want to watch it with me?” She said, finishing with a smile that was also a grimace. Steve was delighted at how awkward the girl who had seemed so cool all week had gotten.

“I…would like that very much.” Robin said, holding in all her excitement to seem casual when inside she was exploding.

“Cool.” Leslie said, and she and Robin stared at each other in gleeful silence until they made a plan to meet after her shift and Leslie left, waving awkwardly while walking out the door. The bell rang as the door shut and Robin turned around so she could catch her weight against the counter, but Steve’s eyes followed Leslie out the door first and saw her get into a car parked out front with a driver that was currently giving her a high five and obviously congratulating her. Steve waved subtly to the silhouette of the other wingman and he waved back before they drove  away.

Steve then walked up to Robin to see her smiling dreamily and starry eyed.

“Cool.” She said softly, and smiled again. She wasn’t much help around the store for the rest of the day, but every glance he got of the wistful Robin putting tapes back in the wrong places and saying cool in a whisper every few moments and giggling made it worth it. 

Saturday

    Steve waited anxiously outside Robin’s house before work and was annoying himself more and more every time his brain made the comparison of a parent waiting for their kid after their first day of school to ask how it went when they’ve spent the whole day worrying. It wasn’t like that, but he was still anxious for her to come outside.

    Robin opened the door and waved goodbye to her family and started towards the car. He could see the size of her grin from the moment she was in sight. 

    When she got into the car she was silent for a moment, and he refused to drive, only stared at her expectantly

    “So? How’d it go?”

    Robin was trying to play it cool despite the fact that she was bouncing in her chair. 

    “You know that whole list of things I thought I had missed out on and it was too late for? Let’s just say I…checked a couple things off.” She said coyly, and Steve grinned at her proudly and gave her a victorious shoulder pat. That’s when she exploded into squeals and all that sandy hair shaking around her as she bounced up and down.

    “Oh my god, Steve, it was amazing. She was so cool and pretty and funny and we had so much in common and we, um” She stopped and her cheeks turned red, and Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

    “I knew it. I knew that you had it in you to be a total chick magnet.” He said proudly, and she grinned at him, shrugging in concession.

    “Turns out I’m a natural Cassanova.” She said with only a hint of irony, and turned her head to look at him. “Thank you, Steve. I mean it.” she said with a tone so genuine that it almost sounded strange in her voice.

    Steve nodded and smiled back. “No worries. I’m your wingman, it’s what friends do. And I like seeing you happy.” 

            The End.

    “Well then…you did what you came to do, because I’m really really happy right now. You’re a good friend.” She said with a sweet finality. Things would stop being mushy and go back to normal but they’d never be the same.

As they began their drive to work they glanced at each other and smiled one more time. Robin had never been so grateful to have a friend like Steve, and Steve had never been so proud to have a friend like her. 

[vivi-the-goblin]

Hey, DnD people. Do you want to hear about a Crab Cult turning a town into crabs? wait, this is tumblr, that's not a question. Seriously though, I made a little one-shot for halloween about a crab cult. Even made 6 monsters for it, but gave substitute monsters to run it entirely from the Monster Manual/SRD with minimal modification, so even if you're on a VTT with no books you can do it. First showing how to run it as a straight beat-the-baddies session (with each area's encounter getting modified depending on order), and then give some tips for how to give it a mystery element (essentially figuring out what's behind it, and its weaknesses. The mystery will reveal itself eventually, but how well the players did will dictate how prepared they'll be) Made for level 6ish characters, but with some rough advice on how to switch it up for your players. I do also have a video on balancing encounters if you struggle with that.

If that's not enough to convince you, consider this- life itself was trying to keep you from this knowledge. Injuries, infestation, equipment failure. So many corrupted takes I had to film this on 8 separate days and release a day late. 57 times I had to stop recording, sometimes for a bizarre amount of accidents in front of my house, but also that neighbor who's still bitter about me breaking up his 3AM dance party that blocked every entrance to the apartments. Yes, I consider rednecks with no-muffler pickups a force of nature. Point is, so not allow life to stop you from learning this forbidden knowledge. And also maybe forgive the odd audio glitch, cut my tongue on day 6 and it made some sounds hard, but wanted to get this up for halloween. I know this is where I usually give TLDW for people who can't watch the video, but I really did condense this as much as I could. And more importantly I spent 26 straight hours salvaging this to stop myself from being more than a day late, so I frankly don't have it in me rn, sorry. I did get the English Subtitles up it that helps. If I get the energy back quick might update with the summary on Halloween.

[skzfictions]

Fan Call w/ Lee Felix

Summary: After buying a ton of "No Easy" albums, you win a video call event in which you will get the chance to speak with Lee Felix from Stray Kids. Today was the day you would finally have your call with him, but the problem is you're one of the very last fans on the list to speak with him. So, what will you do while you wait?

Genre: fluff, cute, happy, drabble, fan call

♡Pairing: Lee Felix X GN! Reader

Word Count: 5.3K

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first time writing on tumblr. I originally got the idea for this drabble from someone’s else’s dream. On YouTube, a post was created asking Stays if they ever dreamt of their bias, and someone said they had a dream of video calling with Felix for like, hours, but while they were talking, they noticed Felix slump forward and fall asleep. Then, they said that they just watched him sleep because it made them happy, and I thought it was so cute so I told them I would write a short story about it. So here it is!

*

You drummed your fingers nervously against your cherry wood desk as you anxiously waited for the inevitable to happen.

Your desk, which was your study area, was usually a place of comfort for you. After all, it was the place where you not only studied or did assignments, but also ate, watched your favorite K-dramas and sometimes even slept depending on how late some of your study sessions lasted. Basically you lived at your desk which was why you had put so much effort into decorating that particular area of your bedroom.

You figured if you were going to spend so much of your time there then you should make it a place you would enjoy spending time at. For that reason, you decided to cover your desk in Stray Kids merchandise.

It would be an understatement to call you a fan of Stray Kids. As cliché as it sounded you were an entire air conditioner as most fans joked online. A hard-core STAY you liked to call yourself and a fan since day zero. Ever since you became a certified STAY it was like you had to see the boys everyday. Just their presence alone was enough to make a bland, boring day suddenly so much brighter.

That was the reason your desk was currently scattered with SKZOO figurines here and there. The wall your desk was placed against was covered in photocards of the 8 members you had collected from various album purchases. Speaking of albums, those too, were arranged in order along your desk all the way from Mixtape to No Easy.

You also had all the SKZOO pens which currently filled your pen holder. Even your phone, your laptop, and tablet were all decorated with images of Stray Kids. And lastly, your favorite piece of Stray Kids merchandise which you had just got in the mail recently, Bbokari, aka, Felix's character from SKZOO, currently sat on the edge of your open laptop.

You reached for the sunny yellow chick, a smile already gracing your lips at just the mere thought of who the plushie represented. Over the years your affection for the boys only grew more and more, day by day, and year by year. But even despite how much you came to love the entire group, even you had your favorite who happened to be the yellow-haired male everyone in the fandom referred to as "Sunshine."

You never believed anyone so sweet could exist on earth. In fact, you almost didn't even believe Felix was human. If you didn't know any better you would have thought he was an alien sent here from another planet because humans just didn't have personalities like Felix's. Or, maybe he was an angel sent from heaven.

It constantly amazed you how in a world with so much hate, and violence that someone as lovely as Lee Felix could even exist. The literal Sunshine of the group, and the fandom, he lit up every life that had the grace of setting eyes on him and his smile.

You couldn't wait to tell him just how much both he and the band meant to you.

Just at the thought, you were suddenly compelled to glance over at the large box of No Easy CDs you had purchased a month ago that sat on the opposite end of your bedroom. They were a testament to the level of commitment you had for Stray Kids.

That's right. In any minute you were going to be speaking on the phone with none other than the Lee Felix from Stray Kids.

You had bought 30 albums, which ended up resulting in a total that was larger than your bills for necessities but you were okay with that because they were also the winning ticket to the Stray kid's video call event you had entered in last month that would allow you the chance to speak with the one and only Mr. Sunshine himself today.

You shivered suddenly feeling a wave of emotions come over you. You were giddy all over in excitement. You always heard from other fans that video call events were hard to get into, but your friend who was a master at getting into such events had informed you a month ago of what to do so you could win. With their help, you were able to figure out what to do in order to sign up for the event, which included you making the biggest purchase of your life to make certain that you'd get in.

And you did!

Luckily your friend had given you the idea of running an online Kpop store where you could sell the albums in order to earn back the money you spent on making such a big purchase.

In fact, you had already sold most of the box. There were only five albums left to sell.

Based on other people's experiences, you knew video calls were never long. You knew you would only get about a minute or so to speak with Felix. For that reason you wrote down everything you wanted to say to him in that minute because you didn't want to waste a single second of it.

First, you were going to introduce yourself. Then you would let him know just how much he and the boys inspire you every day and how that inspiration had even led to you and a couple of your friends forming a band of your own of which you were one of the main singers of.

You thought Felix would definitely love hearing that. You just hoped that he wouldn’t ask you to sing or anything. That would be embarrassing. You weren’t all that confident in your singing abilities even despite your friend’s insistence that you were good and even the best in the little band you guys had formed.

But, you knew the call probably wouldn’t even last long enough for you to sing to him anyway, so that was probably for the best. Still, you couldn’t help your nerves. You were one of the very last on the list for video calls with Stray Kids’ Felix which meant you were waiting, anxiously, for what felt like a lifetime just for your phone to ring.

You now sighed as another painstakingly long minute ticked by, and you slumped in your desk chair until you let yourself slide to the floor. The more you had to wait, the more your nerves got the better of you and you could feel your stomach getting upset. This always happened whenever you were extremely nervous. All your nerves would go straight to your stomach and they usually came out either from one end or the other...

You closed your eyes and tried to get some control over your steadily growing nerves. The last thing you needed was to throw up right now. Maybe it was a bad idea for you to sign up for this video call after all. Maybe you should just not answer when the phone finally does ring. Would Felix even be disappointed if you didn’t answer? Certainly he has had this happen before, right? Maybe it would be for the better if you just...

*Ring Ring*

"Ahhh!"

Startled, you shot up from the floor like a spring at the sound of your phone.

You could see your phone going off, and you knew this was the Lee Felix calling you.

Without thinking, you scrambled to get back in your desk chair before swiping the screen of your phone to answer the video call and almost threw up once the young blond man suddenly appeared on the screen.

You swallowed down the invisible lump in your throat. Hard.

In all his glory, the beautiful Lee Felix greeted you with a bright smile and sparkling eyes.

You didn't know why but suddenly everything you had written down that you had planned to talk with him about vanished from your brain thus, leaving you completely speechless.

"Hi." He spoke, first, still grinning ear to ear but you were so stunned that you couldn’t reciprocate the greeting.

In fact, you were so incredibly stunned that you just stared blankly at him with a dumbstruck look.

As the seconds ticked by, the invisible lumps you were trying to swallow only got worse and you felt bile in your stomach threatening to come up.

I’m gonna throw up! You exclaimed in your head.

"Oh no!” Felix said suddenly, looking extremely worried. “No, don't do that."

You looked up at him questioningly. Had I just said that out loud?

It was as if he read your mind because he released this deep, honey coated chuckle, while nodding and you swear you almost died at the sound of it.

Your cheeks burned. "Oh, did I say that out loud?"

"Yes, you did but don't feel nervous,” he answered, still smiling brightly. “Just think of me as an old friend you're talking with."

You blinked as you tried to process what he'd just said.

"An o-old frien-nd?" You repeated, shakily, your mind still completely blank. Gosh, you could hear the nerves in your voice! First, you couldn't speak, and now when you finally do you're a stuttering mess. He was going to think you were slow or something!

But Felix seemed to be unaffected despite your worries as he answered back good-naturedly, "Yeah. An old friend who just so happens to be in a Kpop band."

“Okay...friend,” you repeated, placing extra emphasis on the “friend” part, but once you said it aloud, you found yourself suddenly amused at just the idea of being Felix’s “friend” and you started to giggle. Unfortunately, that was your other nervous quirk. Whenever you got nervous and had to speak, you would suddenly get very giggly. In fact, that’s what was happening right this very moment. Now that you were speaking to him, you couldn’t stop laughing. He was going to think you were nuts!

“I don’t k-know why I’m so gig-gly all of a s-sudden,” you were barely able to tell him through fits of giggles. “I had all these t-things I w-wanted to tell you and now I can’t help but l-laugh.”

He looked amused as his grin got even bigger. “Like wha-”

Suddenly, the sound of the timer going off in the background interrupted him, and your heart dropped at the sound of it. You weren’t laughing anymore.

You blew it, and you knew it. You’d had one chance to tell the Lee Felix how much you liked him, and all you did with that chance was stare at him blankly and then laugh uncontrollably. Now your minute is over.

But then, you suddenly noticed Felix looking in the distance as if he was looking at someone off screen and you frowned. He nodded to whoever was speaking to him and then glanced back at you before looking back at the person off screen.

“Really?” he asked the person you couldn’t see as you just sat there completely clueless as to what was going on. Felix then said, “okay,” before turning back to you.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, unsurely.

Felix nodded. “Oh yeah. It’s just, I guess you and one other fan were our biggest contributors to buying the albums but the other person didn’t show up for the video call and since you're the last call, my manager said we can talk a little bit longer.”

You had to do a double take after he said that.

“Really?” you asked, completely stunned. “Is that okay? Is that even allowed?”

You had never heard of this happening to any other fan before.

“Only if you’re okay with it?” Felix said with a shrug of his shoulders and a small smile.

You grinned, big. “Are you kidding?! Yes! Of course! Oh my gosh! Yay! I get to talk with Lee Felix!”

In all your excitement you started to dance in your chair. Felix must have found it amusing because he started to copy your little dance.

“Yay! I get to talk with a STAY!” he exclaimed but then stopped suddenly before looking at you questioningly. “What’s your name, by the way?”

That’s right. You had spent so much time laughing earlier that you didn’t even get the chance to tell him your name. You told him your name and he nodded.

“Ah, y/n,” he repeated in his deep tone, letting the name roll off his tongue as if tasting it. “That’s pretty.”

“You’re pretty,” you suddenly blurted and you immediately covered your mouth after you said it. It was true though. Felix was gorgeous even through a camera for a video call. Your scratched screen on your phone wasn’t even all that great either, and yet he still managed to look amazing.

This got a chuckle out of Felix though. “Thank you, y/n. You’re very pretty, too.”

Now your cheeks were burning and you couldn’t look at him. If he complimented you one more time you swore you were going to shoot out of your chair and go through the ceiling of your room.

“So what were you saying before about wanting to tell me something?”

Felix had his head tilted to the side, looking genuinely curious as to what you had to say and you had to refrain from blurting out how cute he looked.

“Oh,” you began looking around for your notes. You honestly couldn’t remember what you wanted to tell him now that you were face-to-face with him. “I actually had written down a list of things…”

You were surprised to find that you really couldn’t locate your notebook where you had written down everything you had wanted to say to him. You looked back up at him.

“Well...what I had wanted to say was that I really loved hearing you sing on the new album,” you began. “I mean, I love when you rap, too, but I was so surprised by hearing what your voice can do when you sing. In fact, I was like, ‘is that really Felix? He sounds so great!’ So, I really do hope you get the chance to show off your singing more often and that you’ll grow more confident in it because you really do sound great. In fact, your singing has even inspired me and my singing as well…”

“You sing?” he suddenly interjected. You hadn’t even realized you were ranting on-and-on until he did so.

“Oh...well, a little,” you answered, sheepishly. Your cheeks burned again as you realized what you had just unintentionally revealed to him. You remembered that actually was one of the things you had meant to tell him, but just not like that. “Me and a couple of my friends kind of started a band.”

“Really?” Felix’s whole face lit up and he leaned forward, interested. “That’s so cool! Do you guys have a name?”

You squealed on the inside. The Lee Felix thought you were cool. You’ve never been cool!

“Not yet,” you said. “We’re kinda just jamming right now, and trying to figure out our sound. My friends are even trying to get me to sing lead because they say I have the best voice but I’m still trying to get over my stage fright.”

All of a sudden, Felix’s lips spread into a sly grin.

“What?” you asked, warily, frowning.

“Do you think you could sing a little something for me?” he asked, hopefully.

Your stomach dropped, instantly. This is exactly what you had been trying to avoid!

“Um…” you suddenly started to giggle again. “I don’t know. I’ll be so embarrassed.”

Felix placed his hands together in a prayer pose. “Please? I’ll bet you sound great but I won’t know unless you sing a little something for me.”

You looked down, already feeling yourself succumbing to the wishes of your ultimate bias. You would stop the world for him if he asked. So even despite your nerves , you muttered “okay,” and then offered to sing him a Stray Kids song.

He nodded, eagerly. “Okay! Which one?”

“Um...MIA?” you answered in a question form as if to make sure he was okay with it to which he nodded. “I love that song. It’s one of the songs me and my friends have been practicing covering.”

Felix nodded again as he waited for you to start.

You took a deep breath before you began to sing the intro to him.

As you sing, Felix starts to nod his head to a silent rhythm and you know he can hear the music in his head just like you can. His reaction is what encourages you to keep going at least right up until the rap part, but that was okay because Felix then finished the verse by rapping.

You instantly began to hype him up by head nodding and bouncing to the beat in your head. When he finished just before the chorus, you clapped for him.

"I just did a duet with Felix!" You exclaimed.

Felix was grinning as he replied. "Your friends are right. You have a great voice. It's soft and pretty and it matches MIA so well."

"Oh," You looked down blushing not knowing what to say. Still, you thanked him, feeling touched that he liked your singing. "That was the first time I ever sang to anyone else like that," you admitted to him before correcting yourself. "Well, besides my friends in the band, that is."

"So I'm your very first audience member?" He asked with a big smile. He looked really happy.

You nodded. "Yeah. I guess you are."

"I'm glad I got to hear you first, then,” he told you. “You really do have a nice voice. Don't be afraid to step up as the lead singer, especially if your friends think you should. I'm sure you'll do great. And I’ll be cheering you on."

You bowed and thanked him again. You couldn't believe how much he was complimenting you. You thought you were supposed to be his fan, not the other way around! You found yourself wondering if other fan's video calls went like this but then you remembered that your call was a special case.

"Hey, how much time do we have left to talk?" you asked him.

"Why? Do you want to end it now?" he looked taken aback by your sudden question. His big eyes were widened and for the first time since you had answered his call, his smile had fallen.

"No! Never!” You answered immediately, in a panic. That was the very last thing you wanted. “In fact, if I could I would talk with you forever."

This brought back his megawatt smile, and he laughed which helped to calm your nerves about upsetting him. You were still curious as to why you were being allowed to speak with him on the phone for so long though, so you explained to him why you had asked.

"It’s just I have never heard of this happening to any other fan before so I'm a little anxious,” you told him, truthfully. “I don't want to mess anything up or get you into trouble..."

"No, it’s fine, really,” Felix reassured you. “My manager is just being really cool today. I think it's because his wife made him his favorite meal for lunch or something so he's really happy right now and is doing things he wouldn't normally do."

This tidbit of information made you laugh, but while you were laughing, you noticed Felix’s mouth moving and knew he was saying something but you didn't hear it.

“What was that?” you asked once you calmed down.

"I said you have a wonderful laugh,” he repeated. “It's really cute."

And just like that your cheeks were on fire! He just kept complimenting you. You were going to have to flip the tables on him.

"Not nearly as wonderful as yours," you flirted back but immediately cringed after saying it.

This earned you a big toothy grin from Felix. "Oh...smooth."

You jokingly did a hair flipping gesture. “Well, I try.” You laughed and so did he. You were actually starting to get comfortable talking to him now. You couldn’t believe you were actually having a genuine conversation with the Lee Felix from Stray Kids. This was definitely going to be a story you told your grandchildren someday.

From there on, you spoke with Felix comfortably. He seemed to be genuinely curious about you because he kept asking questions about you like how you and your friends came to start a band in the first place, how long had you guys been practicing, and what type of music you were into (besides Stray Kids, of course). He also asked questions about you like what your other hobbies were, and what you were going to school for.

You had managed to sneak in a few questions, too, like about his baking and if he had any new recipes he wanted to try. You also talked with him about the new album and what his favorite parts were about making the album.

“So, what’s your favorite song on the album?” he asked you after answering some of your questions.

“That’s easy,” you replied. You didn’t even have to think about it. “My favorite hype song off the album is Domino, and my favorite more mid-tempo song is either Silent Cry or Secret, Secret, but I think I might like Silent Cry just a tiny bit more.”

“Ah,” Felix nodded as he leaned back in his chair, and looked thoughtful. “All Stays seem to really like Silent Cry.”

You nodded in agreement. “I think it's because everyone can relate to the lyrics on a personal level, unfortunately…” You finished with a slight frown.

“Do you?”

You opened your mouth but then closed it, not knowing how to answer as you stared at him. That was a pretty personal question you hadn’t been expecting. You would be lying if you told him “no,” but you also didn’t want to tell him “yes” and ruin the feel-good mood of your phone call with him. You wanted to keep up your spirits as well as his.

“Sometimes,” you finally admitted, slowly. “But I think everyone cries silently sometimes. But you know what’s funny?”

“What?” he asked, tilting his head again in a cute way as he looked at you, curiously.

“The song makes me want to both cry and party at the same time,” you explained to him. “Like a crying party. Like a party where we get together just to cry together.” You shook your head as you realized how dumb that sounded. “It sounds silly, I know.”

“No,” Felix said, looking thoughtful once again as he looked off in the distance. “ I actually think a crying party sounds like a pretty good idea. Like, healing.” He then looked back at you. “What made you come up with that idea?”

“Well, I actually had read the lyrics to the song, first, before I listened to it,” you began explaining to him. “And as I read them, I remember thinking ‘oh boy, this song is going to be a tear jerker. I’m not going to silently cry anymore, I’m going to really cry.’ But then when I finally did listen to the song, I was completely thrown off by the beat. I was like, ‘dang this beat is kinda hot though!’ and I started to dance.”

This got a chuckle out of Felix.

You continued. “But as I continued to listen to the song, I started to wonder if I should be partying that hard to a song whose lyrics are so sad and intense.”

“That’s totally the vibe we had in mind when we made the song,” Felix said with a nod of his head.

“Really?” You said, surprised. “Well, if that’s the case you guys nailed it. I love that song so much. It’s definitely my comfort song.”

“Wow. I’m so touched to hear that,” Felix said. “We always hope that through our music Stays will feel like we are with them even if we can’t physically be there.”

“You guys really did such a spectacular job with this album,” you complimented him. “I could go on and on about it.”

Felix nodded. “Tell me. Tell me everything. What else did you like?”

“Well…” Since he’d asked, you did just that and literally told him everything you liked about the new album starting from Cheese all the way down to Oh: Mixtape. As you two talked longer, Felix rested his chin down on his hands that were placed on the table he was seated at. He patiently listened as you went from one track to another, sharing every little detail you loved about each song. He was smiling as you got so into how much you loved No Easy. You couldn’t help it but you were just so happy to be talking with him about music, especially since it was a passion you both shared.

However, as you rambled on and on about the music, you began to notice Felix looking a little droopy. His eyes kept threatening to close but then he would open them back up only for his eyelids to fall closed again.

You, on the other hand, had completely lost track of time and had no idea how long you had been talking. If you had to guess you’d say your video call with Felix had been going on for nearly an hour! Maybe even a little longer than that.

“Felix,” you called softly, causing the yellow-haired male to lift an eyebrow, but his eyes were still closed. You smiled at the cute gesture.

“Hm?” was all he responded with.

“Are you tired?” You asked. “We should probably end the call. I don’t want to bore you...”

He immediately shook his head, before slowly opening his eyes back up to look at you. “I’m not bored, at all. Although I am a little tired...But honestly, your voice is just really nice to listen to. It’s soft and soothing.”

You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks burn for the umpteenth time due to him complimenting you. He really seemed to like the sound of your voice which was saying a lot considering he was known to have the voice of the Gods.

“Okay...so you just want me to keep talking?”

He smiled, eyes still closed as he nodded. And you smiled at how cute he looked.

So you did just that. If Felix found comfort in the sound of your voice then you would talk all night if you had to. You didn’t even know what you were talking about at one point the longer you continued. First, you were talking about your favorite songs on the album, which then led to you talking more about the Stray Kids covers your band liked to practice, which then led you talking about your friends and before you knew it, Felix was softly snoring as he had fallen asleep.

You watched the golden-haired boy sleep with a smile on your face. Without realizing it, you mimicked his sleeping position and rested your head down on your hands that were pressed against your desk.

You just laid there and watched him, admiring his sleeping face until you felt your own eyes begin to droop as well. It seemed Felix wasn’t the only one who was affected by your endless chattering. You didn’t want to fall asleep, for you didn’t want the video call with Felix to end, but once you let yourself succumb to your tiredness you were out and off to dreamland.

You don’t know how long you slept for, but eventually, the sound of your phone going off woke you out of your slumber.

You shot straight up and as you came back to reality you realized you were still at your desk. Then, you saw your phone ringing and that’s when you knew everything you thought you had just experienced was all just a dream. While waiting for the call with Felix, you knew you must have fallen asleep at your desk.

You felt a little disheartened by the fact that your dream of video calling with Felix wasn't real but you went ahead and answered your phone once you saw your best friend's name on the screen.

"Did you meet Felix yet?!" they immediately asked the second you answered.

"No," you told your friend glumly. "Besides, I told you I would call you after I spoke with him, remember?"

"Oh yeah, but I just couldn't wait. You sound tired…"

"Yeah. Your call woke me up,” you told your friend. “I guess I got tired and fell asleep while waiting for Felix to call. I actually ended up having a really good dream of him."

"Oooh! Was it hot?" your friend asked, cheekily causing you to roll your eyes.

"No. It was sweet, actually,” you told them as you started to remember the dream. “I dreamt of us having a really long video call that lasted for like an hour."

You told your friend how you talked him to sleep and then fell asleep yourself which made your friend burst out in laughter.

"Not surprised,” they said. “You do like to talk a lot. Especially when Felix is the topic of conversation."

That was true. Normally, you weren’t all that talkative but when Stray Kid’s Felix was the topic of conversation, you couldn’t shut up. That’s probably why you had talked his ear off in your dream.

"Okay, well call me the second you finish the video call with him," your friend demanded, causing you to roll your eyes again.

"I will," you replied, slightly annoyed and then hung up.

Now back to the silence of your bedroom, you decided to pick up your guitar and play some chords while you waited for the video call. Somehow, your dream had helped to relax you so you didn’t feel as nervous as you felt earlier, thus allowing you to put your mind on something else for a moment while you waited.

You began to quietly play MIA on your guitar, strumming and singing along to the song until the familiar tune of your phone’s ring made you stop.

You glanced at your phone, seeing the screen indicate that you were receiving a call. Your heart stopped. This was it!

Coming back over to your desk, you sat down in your chair and gently swiped your phone screen to answer the call.

Upon answering, you were immediately greeted with the brightest smile on the planet as your ultimate bias popped up on your phone’s screen. It was just like your dream but better because this time it was real.

"Hi!” You greeted Felix, excitedly. “Oh my gosh! I can't believe I finally get to meet you!"

Felix’s grin never left his face as he responded in his deep tone. "Hi. It's nice to meet you too. What's your name?"

You immediately gave him your name and he nodded.

"Hi y/n," he repeated and you felt your cheeks heat up from the sound of it coming from his mouth. You never thought much about your name, but it sounded beautiful when he said it.

"You’ll never believe the crazy but sweet dream I just had about you…" you blurted out.

Felix looked shocked as his eyebrows raised, disappearing behind his blond bangs but he looked amused because he was still smiling. "Really? I was in your dream?”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded in response with a big grin. Your cheeks were going to hurt from so much blushing and smiling but you couldn’t help it. After all, you were speaking with your ultimate bias!

“Was it a good dream?” he asked and you nodded again. “Tell me what happened?"

From then on, you began telling Felix of the dream you had earlier, making the most of your limited time to speak with him. Unlike your dream, you wouldn’t waste a single second of it.

[wintermelonbear]

Artistry

Pairing: Damian Al-Ghul Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Trope/s: Childhood Friends, No Powers AU

Summary: A story in which two seemingly dissimilar eight-year-olds build bonds through their love for martial arts. Written for the MGI Trope Tussle 2021.

Words: 4808

Damian and Marinette first met when they were 8 at his mother’s Wushu studio. At first glance they were an unlikely duo, before meeting in martial arts class their social circles ran entirely parallel with one another with Damian attending a private school that was a feeder for Gotham academy and Marinette attending a public elementary local to her, but they truly brought out the best in each other.

Damian had grown up inside his mother’s studio, working day in and day out from the tender age of 3 to improve his weaponry and martial arts skill. His mother and father, divorced but trying their best to co-parent for his sake, each preached to him about the importance of self-discipline and concentration. When his mother and her father, Ras himself a master martial artist, had competed in Wushu they were national champions. As a third-generation practitioner of Wushu, Damian had a lot riding on his shoulders.

Marinette’s mother had practiced Wushu as a child in China. When she first arrived in France she found herself disappointed that there were no local Chinese martial arts centers, let alone Wushu training centers. Sabine always thought it would be a passion she could pass down to her future child, but there was only so much she could teach on her own. However, as fate would have it, after a falling out with Tom’s father Roland the Dupain-Chengs found themselves in a city not too far from Gotham, New Jersey. Sabine was pleasantly surprised to find that the martial arts scene was much more alive there than it had been in Paris. However, between the bakery and her young daughter Sabine had little time to spend practicing martial arts. It wasn’t until Marinette’s kindergarten teacher suggested that Marinette be enrolled in a sport to better her hand-eye coordination that Sabine finally put her daughter into formal martial arts courses.

At first, everything was fine until it became apparent that Marinette was progressing much faster than her peers, despite her typical clumsiness she was surprisingly adept at martial arts. Sabine wasn’t entirely surprised as while Wushu was difficult to teach within the confined space they had at home, she still took the time to practice Tai Chi with her daughter on the weekends, providing Marinette with martial arts fundamentals and self-discipline. With Marinette’s slight inclination for martial arts paired with her hard work she was outperforming her classmates and even some of the older kids at the studio she went to. Eventually, Marinette found herself ostracized by her peers, but her teachers at the studio refused to advance her because they had an in-house rule where children could not be advanced more than two years past their age group. Tom and Sabine knew that pulling Marinette out of the sport entirely was off the table, the pure joy that spread across her face every time she mastered a new trick was proof enough that she was in love with the sport. So they set off to find a new studio to train at, where Marinette’s needs as a budding martial artist would be met. After looking around for a while, they decided to give Talia’s Wushu academy a try despite it being a little over a 30-minute drive from their house.

In regards to the first year of their friendship, Marinette would describe it as very professional, and almost nothing more. It took a while for Damian to become more cordial with her. When asked, Marinette would say “Damian didn’t like me, but he tolerated me enough as a partner because there was only so much practice he could have done alone.”

At first, Damian did not like Marinette at all, in fact, maybe he even hated her. When he first met her, Damian thought she was like every other “talented” kid that came into his mother’s studio, only to realize talent alone would get you nowhere in the sport of Wushu. On her first day, she immediately took up the spot next to him at the front and center of the class and offered him a warm smile, “Hello my name is Marinette, I’m new here.” Damian returned her greeting with a harsh tut of his tongue and the turn of his head, he was there to train, not to make friends. Marinette’s expression was aghast, but she quickly recovered and mumbled a soft “okay not talkative then…this is going great….” Damian suppressed an eye roll, simply because he knew his mother would not tolerate that in her classroom.

Against every one of Damian’s expectations, Marinette proved herself to be a hard-working individual. Eventually, after seeing her work on her technique and tricks after class during open gym hours, seeing that she wasn’t relying purely on natural ability and truly was putting in the effort to become a better martial artist, he began to tolerate her. The first time he returned her daily “Hello” with the nod of his head Marinette’s facial expression went from neutral to shocked to absolutely beaming. Damian simply raised his eyebrow and continued with his pre-class warmup.

Over time Marinette had grown a deep respect for Damian; she wished he was a bit friendlier, but despite their rough start Marinette realized early on that, while gruff and unfriendly, Damian was kind in his own way. He always pointed out when someone’s technique was wrong so that they wouldn’t hurt themselves, he always helped bandage someone up when they were hurt, and he always stayed after class to help his mom clean up. Most people would think he did it out of obligation or his mother’s demands, but Marinette loves people watching, and even after just a few months Marinette has observed that Talia would rather Damian use the time to better himself and will insist that she, or one of their workers, handle the menial tasks.

It was not until Damian saw Marinette work through her struggles that he gained respect for her. While Wushu is a largely performative sport where everyone’s moves are choreographed, Talia wanted to ensure everyone was also learning basic self-defense resulting in regularly held sparring sessions at the end of class. Marinette was a great performer, she was highly expressive and could easily recall choreography, but she had minimal exposure to actual sparring and her reflexes were not as sharp and trained like the others. She managed to win against her opponents in the first few classes by utilizing her creativity, but eventually, her lack of experience caught up with her and in her third month at the studio, she began her losing streak. Looking at her lose to her opponents time and time again he couldn’t help but wonder to himself, “will you still be here tomorrow?” Growing up in the studio, Damian knew that most of the people who were considered to be “gifted” had a tendency to drop out the moment things no longer came naturally to them, they grew frustrated with themselves and then with the sport. At this point, he figured he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead, the stage was set for her to become the most prevalent figure in his life.

Despite being in the same classes for over 3 months Damian and Marinette had never sparred. It was actually quite odd that they hadn’t yet sparred, the pairings for the most part were random. Talia reasoned that with the right circumstances even someone who seems weak could win; it was important to never underestimate an opponent and lower your guard. After bowing to one another their eyes met. If you asked them as adults they would unabashedly say that they love the other’s eyes, it was like staring at the calm before a storm. Their eyes were clear, fierce, and piercing. Despite being clearly disadvantaged Marinette showed no fear. She met his first few strikes blow for blow and even managed to evade a few of his strikes with a few unique tumbling passes – something Damian noted that she excelled in. He could tell she has been studying him, observing his strike patterns from his previous matches. Rather than reacting to his strikes, she was anticipating them – a smart move considering her reflexes were lacking. Unfortunately for Marinette, this meant that one unanticipated fake was all it took to defeat her.

That night during open gym hours Marinette approached Damian on her own for the first time. “There is only so much I can practice on my own, please train with me.”

“Why would I do that?” Damian held his face firm, his mouth in a thin line and his eyebrow slightly quirked.

Marinette’s eyes steeled over with conviction. “Did you know that every time you get up from xie bu you duck your chin down in your struggle to regain balance? It’s obvious you’re trying to shift your center of gravity. Instead, try leaning on your front leg from the beginning. The first few times you try this method, you should put a ball between your chin and neck to keep your head held up until you get used to it.”

“How did you–?”

“Notice? I love observing others, I can help you. There’s only so much we can practice on our own. I need help with my reflexes and you need someone who can review your performances. We can’t do this alone. You don’t have to like me, you just have to work with me. What do you say? Deal?”

“Tch. Deal.”

At first, their conversations mainly consisted of Marinette’s one-sided chatter during their warm-up, breaks, and cool-down stretches. It took a while for Marinette to get Damian to open up, but once she found the right topics she found that he was strongly opinionated about almost everything and shared quite a few hobbies with her. While Wushu was the common interest that brought them together, they were much more alike than they thought. They both enjoyed art, video games, and superhero shows to name a few common interests. Damian would say he would want to be a hero without any powers, someone who relies on their own skill to punish evil-doers. Marinette on the other hand would love to be a magical girl who could save others without causing too much damage. After hotly debating the topic of normal heroes and powered heroes, Damian and Marinette came to an agreement that both sides had their own set of struggles and perks.

Damian and Marinette found themselves spending more time with each other both inside and outside of the studio. After arguing over which type of paint was superior, Marinette was team watercolor because of its varied use, relative cheapness to oil paints, and blendability where Damian was a more traditional artist who believed that the blending capabilities of oil paint were just as good, if not better, and their longevity was worth the cost, the two decided to settle it with a paint off. Art sessions quickly became a biweekly tradition between the two, whenever the Gotham botanical garden would have a new exhibit Marinette would insist they go to sketch the flora. Damian quickly found that Marinette was almost as passionate about plants as he was about animals, with the way she flitted about the garden he couldn’t help but wonder if she had been something like a ladybug in her past life. There were also plenty of weekends spent sketching Damian’s pets, though Marinette would note that no drawings could capture what good boys Titus, Alfred the Cat, Jerry the Turkey, and Bat Cow were.

Together they found new ways to integrate Wushu into their hobbies, Marinette had plenty of friends at school who loved art and plenty of friends who did Wushu at the same center, but Damian was the only one she shared nearly all her passions with.

With their art, they began making flyers and posters for the studio, and banners to cheer on their classmates at competitions – Damian would argue he only did this because it would increase morale, which in turn would produce better results for the studio. Marinette struggled with the posters at first as a lot of proposed designs incorporated traditional Chinese characters, she couldn’t even write in Pinyin! Tom and Sabine had prioritized teaching Marinette about her French roots, in the event that one day they decided to move back to France, and neglected teaching her much about Chinese heritage. Marinette still learned basic conversational phrases: yes, no, please, thank you, and familial titles, but she was nowhere near conversational or fluent. After realizing Marinette did not know how to speak Mandarin Damian made it his personal goal to make her at least conversational before they would begin to travel internationally for competitions. Many of the major Wushu competitions took place in China and if Marinette was going to be his partner in the couples division he was going to make sure she was able to converse with any interviewers they may meet, and that if she were to end up lost – he swears Marinette was born without a sense of direction – that she could find her way back to him or their hotel. He hoped that while working on the banners he could work in a few lessons on traditional Chinese characters and simplified Chinese characters so that Marinette could at least read signs. Apart from art, reenacting scenes from video game cutscenes and superhero movies became one of their favorite activities, it became a way to train while still having plenty of fun. Sometimes after mastering a new move-in Ultimate Mecha Strike, they would break out the crash mats to test if the moves in the game were actually physically possible.

Even the hobbies Damian didn’t share with Marinette he was willing to partake in, and the fact that he was trying meant the world to Marinette. Damian was rarely physically affectionate in the first few years of their friendship, and it was even rarer for him to vocalize his emotions, and so Marinette quickly learned that Damian had a tendency to express himself through his actions. A lot of people failed to see how warm and loving Damian truly was, but Marinette saw it in how he interacted with everyone. For example, when Damian’s eldest brother opened up an acrobatics and gymnastics center Damian immediately volunteered to design and paint a mural on the outside that would more easily catch attention, Marinette watched him alter the design day and night and sort through hundreds of color palettes to ensure the pairing was just right. She saw his kindness through his interactions with his family and hers, the painting of her mom and dad baking, a gift from Damian for their 20th anniversary, hung up in the living room was more physical proof of it. When Marinette began sewing he proudly wore her designs and when she began to take commissions, he always kept her business card on his body in the event someone asked about his apparel.

One of Marinette’s fondest memories with Damian was when they decided to host a bake sale to offset the cost of international travel for the competition team. It was near the Mid-Autumn festival so Marinette and her parents decided to make mooncakes. Damian had some experience in the kitchen helping his mother make baozi and baklava, but he definitely wasn’t as experienced as Marinette who grew up in a bakery, yet he still came over to help them with the first few test batches and to help design packaging. Watching him carefully weigh out the ingredients her parents listed and chat about his favorite flavors with her parents in French filled her with so much warmth. The kitchen was filled with banter as a discourse between traditional baked mooncakes and skin mooncakes arose. Marinette and Sabine preferred snow skin mooncakes, the chewiness pairs well with pastes like red bean and taro, where Damian and Tom were strongly on the side of the more traditionally baked mooncake, arguing that the crumble of the pastry paired with fillings like salted egg and lotus paste was clearly superior. Marinette was unsurprised that Damian was strongly advocating for traditional flavors, but her father? The same man who made mustard macarons? It wasn’t until Marinette suggested thousand-layer mooncakes were simply croissants with a pasty filling that everyone else was willing to set aside their different preferences to unite against her. While the thousand layer mooncakes and traditional mooncakes baked, and the snow skin mooncakes steamed Marinette and Damian got to work on the packaging. In order to reduce cost, they had ordered plain packaging and planned to carve potato stamps with Mid-Autumn festival motifs: the moon, rabbits, flowers, fans, and lanterns. Despite having seen how proficient Damian was with a blade in training, Marinette was pleasantly surprised, if not downright awed, by Damian’s precision with a knife. By the time Marinette had finished carving out one flower Damian had finished three lantern carvings. After finishing stamping the final package Marinette daringly pressed the still paint-laden potato stamp onto Damian’s cheek which quickly devolved into a paint fight. The picture of Damian and Marinette covered head to two in paint was proudly pinned at the top of her corkboard, Marinette would never forget the sound of the kitchen filled with laughter that day.

Damian’s parents were extremely supportive of this arrangement. Talia thought it was a great opportunity, open gym hours were busy and she couldn’t give all her attention to Damian, having a training partner could really help him grow. If they got along well they could even enter paired events together! Bruce was enthralled that his son found someone to spend time with other than his friend Clark’s son, Jon. Jon and Damian were great friends, but Jon lived in Metropolis and so the boys rarely saw each other outside of business galas and Skype calls. It was nice knowing his son had someone he could spend time with in person, Bruce was concerned that Damian’s interpersonal growth would be stunted by his lack of interaction with his classmates at school. To see his son being a kid, laughing freely, filled him with great joy, he knew that being the son of a billionaire and a top-notch martial artist had put a lot of pressure on Damian’s shoulders, but he never knew what he could do to help his son. Seeing the walls in Damian’s room at the manor fill up with pictures of him and Marinette smiling, Damian smiling, made Bruce figure that everything was going to be okay.

Sabine and Tom grew to love Damian like their own son with the more time he spent at each other’s houses. At first, they were a bit skeptical, they didn’t quite understand what their daughter saw in the boy, but they trusted her judgment and boy are they glad they did. Damian was like a missing piece of their family, despite his hard exterior, the boy was extremely loyal and caring, they could always count on him to have Marinette’s back. Sabine especially had a soft spot for him after watching him correct Marinette’s brush strokes on the banners, teaching her the differences between what she wrote and what he was writing. The two watched their daughter give herself wholly to this boy, and in return, he gave himself back to her and that was all they could’ve ever wanted for Marinette, to love and be loved.

As they grew older they shared more than just common interests: their dreams, their fears, and the pressure they faced from their families. Marinette knew what she wanted for herself – something Damian was envious of. When they were 11 to offset the competition costs, Marinette’s mother began designing and sewing their competition outfits. Once Marinette saw what her mother was doing she wanted to help, and she ended up falling in love with fashion design. From the age of 13 and onward Marinette designed all of her own stage wear, as well as Damian’s. Sabine would joke that with such a talented daughter it’s a shame they didn’t stay in Paris. Damian wouldn’t admit it – Marinette would – but the thought of possibly never meeting Marinette made him feel uncomfortably empty; he wonders how he bore with that feeling before becoming close with Marinette. Damian wasn’t sure what he wanted for himself, he would love to take over his mother’s Wushu studio, maybe even expand it, but he was always raised with the expectation that one day he would inherit his father’s corporation. Despite loving both options, loving both his parents, there was also a part of him that wanted something that was completely Damian, he had already spent so much of his life living in the shadow of his parents. It wasn’t until high school that Damian opened up to Marinette about this, as the time to make decisions grew closer Damian naturally grew more anxious about his future. Marinette rarely gets the chance to comfort Damian, oftentimes he bottles his emotions up until they’re ready to burst, and even then Marinette has to slowly coax him into talking about them, even if it is with his brothers and not her, she just wants him to feel safe with his own emotions. The first time Damian opened up to her about the pressure he felt as his parent’s only biological son she immediately swept him into her arms, stroking his hair she began to tell him about how loved he was. She told him “Damian I love you, your family loves you, my family loves you. I just want you to know how loved you are. I speak not only for myself, but for everyone who loves you when I say this, do what makes you happy. Your parents will be happy as long as you are, they trust that they raised you to make good decisions for yourself. Even if you don’t know what it is that makes you happy yet, don’t be afraid to explore your options; I’ll be right here by your side and I’m going to support you no matter what. You’ve told me before that even if you inherit the studio Maya would co-own it with you, or even if you inherit your father’s business you would be working alongside your brothers. You are not alone, the world is not riding on solely your shoulders.” Damian was completely silent, if not for the wetness on her shoulder and his grip tightening around her, Marinette would figure he was unphased. Marinette has known that she loves this boy, far past the platonic love she just expressed, but for Damian, it was at this moment that he realized that not only was he loved, but he was in love with Marinette.

“WELCOME TO THE WORLD WUSHU CHAMPIONSHIPS 2019 LIVE FROM GOTHAM, NEW JERSEY” roared overhead on the speakers.

Damian and Marinette were standing in a hall away from the main room where other contestants were preparing themselves both appearance-wise and physically. Marinette herself was fixing the crown braid in her hair. The women’s event would take place in the morning to late afternoon, where the men’s event in the evening giving Damian ample time before he needs to warm up to support Marinette. He gave Marinette’s ensemble a once over and with his cheeks tinged red he muttered “I like your costume, you look really cute”, quickly averting his gaze.

Marinette immediately flushed, almost as red as the silken top that adorned her torso, and brought the hands that were adjusting her braids down to her hips and leaned forward, exclaiming in a hushed shout as to not disturb the other competitors warming up, “Damian Al-Ghul Wayne, are you making fun of me? I just want to make sure that any pictures taken do not make me look like a hot mess. Could you imagine what could happen if Audrey Bourgeois sees pictures of me completely frumpled looking and cancels my apprenticeship?? Oh my God and then Parson’s will find out and rescind me and then I won’t be able to visit you at NYU!” Marinette’s hands now rested on her cheeks smearing away her perfectly placed blush. How Marinette managed to go from disgruntled to spiraling in less than a minute is still a mystery that still eludes Damian after years of friendship, but it was his duty to calm her down. He understands her nerves, they had spent the last few years dominating the juniors division and as they entered the senior division there was a lot of pressure for them to win there too. Unfortunately, for every person who wanted them to win, another five were praying for them to slip up, but now is not the time to be overcome by nerves, her turn would come soon and she cannot afford to be overwhelmed by nerves.

Damian fully grasped her wrists pulling her hands away from her face, “Marinette, genuinely you look stunning”. After that comment, Damian noted to himself that it seems like there was no more need for the blush she applied anyways. With the soft tut of his tongue, he smoothed out the harsh lines of her smeared blush using the pad of his thumb. He whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, “Don’t worry too much about your hair and makeup, the most important thing is your form”. Marinette leaned into his touch and gave a small nod, calming down from her spiraling thoughts, he always knew how to ground her.

“Contestant number 54 you’re up next!”

“That’s you; you might want to fix up your makeup real quick, but everything is going to be fine.” He handed her a bag with her cosmetics and a wipe and quickly clapped his hands around her shoulders to guide her to the main stage so she could focus on herself.

Fixing her makeup Marinette shot him a cheeky grin, “wish me luck?”

“You don’t need luck. Marinette you have the skill, you know that.”

“Next up is Marinette Dupain-Cheng from New Jersey, USA! She is definitely a fan favorite to win today on the Women’s Taolu floor. She is internationally known for competing not only in the women’s division but also in the couples’ scene. She’s been training for the individual event from the age of six and for the partner event from the age of nine with her studio mate Damian Al-Ghul Wayne, who is predicted to win the Men’s Taolu event. While we do not have a couples’ Wushu competition here, since turning 18 they have been dominating the senior international couples’ Wushu scene and have gone undefeated.”

Taking off her team jacket, with a quick nod to her parents, Talia, and of course, Damian Marinette strode to the center stage. Damian would never grow sick of watching her transform on stage, it was strikingly similar to the magical girl shows she had been obsessed with as a child. The moment Marinette stepped onto the mat her whole demeanor changed. Her back straightened up, her head would be held high, and most of all, the look in her eyes was filled with inextinguishable fire.

By the end of the event after getting changed Marinette and Damian were making their way to his car. Once Damian turned 16 and got his license, it became a tradition for them to go out for a celebratory meal together without their parents. “Marinette!” Damian heard a voice call out, Agreste he noted in his head. Marinette had met Agreste and Tsurugi while vacationing in Paris. While they weren’t the worst, in fact, Tsurugi was typically pleasant company, Damian was in no mood to socialize after the several rounds of interviews he had to endure after winning first place in Men’s Taolu. Many of the interviewers failed to understand that while yes, he had more opportunities to train as he is a third-generation Wushu champion, it was his hard work that got him to where he was, not his genetics.

Seeing Damian continue on to his car, not wanting to keep him waiting, Marinette quickly bid them farewell with a promise to see them tomorrow. “Hey wait for me!” Marinette called out, running after Damian. Despite his pride usually preventing him from heeding to his peers’ commands, Damian stopped in his tracks, his breath shallow and wondering why Marinette’s voice still makes his heartthrob despite having heard it call out to him for over 10 years. Feeling her hands latch around his arm gave him a sense of comfort. Her grip was strong and steady, yet still gentle. He couldn’t help but envision his hand in hers instead of his arm. The bouquet and hand-painted card in his car were waiting to see if she felt the same.

[cherryobx]

I'm all yours//Rafe Cameron x reader

request: "Hii!! I love your writing! What if Rafe and Y/N have a fling, but he doesn’t make a move or show his motives, so she starts distancing herself from him. Later he finds out that she’s been going out with another guy (totally up to you to decide whether it’s obx character or fictional) and decides to have a conversation with her about what they are (he’s a liiitle too jealous and it makes her mad, but they work it out after a small fight). That’s it!! Hope you like it, have a great day🥰"

summary: Rafe realizes something when he hears that you're seeing someone

warnings: language, mentions of sex (but no smut!), FWB, angst

WC: 1.7k

(not my gif, creds to the owner!)

He was never there when you woke up. It was like a tradition at this point. He always left without you noticing. Of course, some mornings you wished that he’d stay a little longer and just hold you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. But that was Rafe Cameron we’re talking about. It was nothing more than a friends with benefits situation. Although you wished it was something more. You’d never tell it to Rafe though. He’d just make fun of you for wanting something that was so out of your reach, something almost impossible.

After stretching a bit on your bed, you sat up and tried to rub the tiredness away from your eyes. Your eyes drifted to the alarm clock beside your bed. 7:32. Why had you woken up so early? You blamed it on the coldness of your bed and the sheets. After all it was just you in it.

You stood up, put on an oversized t-shirt and started picking up your clothes that had been scattered all over your bedroom the night before. You tossed them onto the bathroom floor and made a mental note to put them in the washing machine later.

Feeling your stomach grumble with hunger you walked into the kitchen and put two slices of bread into the toaster. You opened the fridge and took out the butter. Lately you had been obsessed with toast with butter. It was heavenly on mornings like these.

As soon as the toast was done, you spread some butter on them. You didn’t care enough to put them on a plate. Or you were just lazy. One of those reasons. As you were eating your toast, you scrolled on your phone, seeing all the pictures and videos from last night’s party. You had decided not to go and just stay home and watch a movie all by yourself. You actually treasured those moments. Rafe came over in the middle of the night and of course he was pretty hammered. You still slept with him though. How could you deny yourself such pleasure?

When you were finished eating, you sat on the living room couch, pulling your knees up to your chest. You felt pathetic, sad even. You were sorry for yourself. You had let Rafe crawl into your life, into your head, and now you couldn’t get him out. He was always on your mind.

“This has to stop,” you mumbled to yourself, as you took out your phone and texted the guy you had turned down a few days ago. He had asked you out but you declined because it felt wrong to go out with a guy that wasn’t Rafe. But now you realized that the smartest thing right now would be trying to forget about Rafe. He didn’t see you as nothing more than a friend, a hook-up.

He replied almost immediately which was a bit weird because it was 8 in the morning but you didn’t give it much thought. You agreed to go on a date with him in the evening.

As you were getting ready to go on the date, you got a text from Rafe, asking if he could come over tonight. You didn’t reply. It’s for the better, you thought.

The guy, Luke, picked you up at 7 p.m sharp and took you to out to eat. It was pretty romantic you were not going to lie.

“You’ve been living in Kildare your entire life? How have I not seen you before?” you asked before taking a bite of your food.

“It may be because I don’t really go to parties.” You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“You don’t? Then what do you do here? There’s really nothing to do here except parties and golf, if you ask me.”

“Well, mostly I just hang out with my friends, play golf, go fishing. You know, the usual stuff.”

“I’d get bored with that fast,” you laughed.

“Then what do you do here?” he asked.

“Umm, I go to parties, obviously, I’m not lame,” you said, sarcastically rolling your eyes. “But sometimes I surf.”

“You do? Isn’t that like a pogue thing?”

“So, sport is now a pogue thing? Yeah, I don’t label things like that. The whole pogue vs kook things is just pointless in my opinion.”

“If you say so.” He took a sip of his drink.

After dinner, you walked down to the beach and just took a stroll there. It was a beautiful sunset and you even took some pictures with him to remember that night.

“I had a really good time tonight. Thanks for not turning me down like I did you.” He had just brought you home and walked up to your front door.

“No problem. Who am I to say no to such a pretty girl.” The compliment made you blush.

“Also, thank you for paying tonight. I promise I’ll pay next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“Yes. I mean if you want to.”

“I do.”

“Then it’s settled.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek before entering your home and closing the door behind you. You were actually happy with how this whole thing turned out. You hadn’t thought about Rafe even once this whole evening.

When you stopped answering to Rafe’s texts and calls, he became confused. What was going on? Had he done something to upset you?

After a few weeks in the dark, he heard at one party that you were seeing someone. He felt this kind of tightness in his chest. It was a mix of emotions. Almost like anger but not really. He couldn’t put a finger on it why he felt like this. It was not like you were his girlfriend or anything. Although he liked the sound of that. Y/N, his girlfriend.

He left the party and came over to your place. He banged his fist on the door repeatedly. Je might’ve even woken up your neighbours with all the noise he was making.

“Rafe, what the fuck are you doing here in the middle of the night?” you asked, as you opened the door. You were wearing an old t-shirt and shorts. You looked adorable to him.

“Can we talk?”

“At 2 in the morning? No fucking way.” You started to close the door but he shoved his foot between the door and its frame.

“Y/N, please. I need to speak with you.”

“Then come back at a reasonable hour,” you huffed and rolled your eyes.

“This is a reasonable hour. Just let me in.”

You let out a sight but then opened the door for him. You walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water because your throat was feeling a bit dry. He followed you close behind.

“If you’re here for sex then you might as well just leave right now. I’m not in the mood.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I’m here just to talk to you?”

“You want an honest answer to that?” you asked, raising your eyebrow at him.

“Not really.”

You took a sip from your glass and then placed it on the kitchen counter. “If you’re really here to talk then talk. I want to go back to sleep.”

“I don’t want you going out with that Luke you’ve been seeing.”

“How the fuck is that your business? I can go out with whoever I want. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I know what’s best for you.”

You bitterly laughed. “Oh, you do now? Rafe, you don’t know shit.”

“He’s not a good guy for you.”

“And you know that how? He treats me better than you ever have. And that’s a fact. Keep your nose out of my business and go find some other girl to fuck. This,” you waved your finger between you two, “is over. I don’t want to see you anymore. Like ever again. So you might as well delete my number.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?” The frustration within you was too much to handle as tears started to fall from your eyes and roll down your cheeks.

“Because I love you, for fucks sake,” he admitted, yelling.

You were staring at him in shock. You were speechless and didn’t know what to say. Was this like some sort of cruel prank he was playing on you? Or was he serious? Could it be? It was hard to believe. Why would he admit it now, after all this time?

“I didn’t realize it at first. I was so caught up in myself and my problems. But when I heard you were seeing someone, I freaked out. I didn’t like the feeling it gave me. I didn’t like the thought of you with someone else other than me. It didn’t seem right.”

He slowly walked closer to your, now sobbing, frame. He placed one of his hands on your shoulder and the other under you chin. He lifted it so you’d look him in the eye.

“If there’s a slight chance that you’re feeling like I do, please tell me. If not, I’ll leave right now and you’ll never have to even see me again.”

“I do,” you whispered, not being able to actually talk. Your emotions were overwhelming you as you broke down. He wrapped his arms around you and rubbed his hand up and down on your back in a soothing manner.

“It’s okay. Don’t cry. I’m here with you.”

You stood there for what felt like eternity, crying between his arms. When you had calmed down you pulled away a bit so you could look at him.

“You’re such an asshole. You know that, right?”

He nodded. He knew.

“But. I love you too. Always have been. I tried so hard to forget you. That’s why I started going out with Luke. So I could forget you for a couple of hours. And it worked. But as soon as I got home it was like he never existed. I thought about you. Only you.”

“Well, now I’m all yours.”

“That’s good to hear because I’m yours as well.”

***

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[jackrrabbit]

it will come back [pt. 2] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 1] [Part 3]

A/N: Title from the Hozier song—“don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: yandere, violence (not directed toward reader), crying, Shiggy REALLY likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep, non-explicit sexual content. [In later parts: 18+, sex, other stuff]

He—Tomura—keeps visiting.

At first you think it’s because of the free medical care, and you wish you had the spine to tell him to suck it up and go see a professional. After a couple weeks turn into a couple months and his wounds fade into ragged purple scars, though, you start to think differently.

Within a short time Tomura has figured out your work schedule, and he does a decent job of not showing up after your long shifts. The unavoidable consequence of this is that he ends up monopolizing your precious days off, but you come to the realization about a month and a half in that you don’t actually mind. You like it. It’s like spending time with a friend.

Mostly you guys talk. It doesn’t seem like Tomura really has anyone to talk to the way the two of you do, but that’s probably just you projecting. It’s usually shallow stuff—TV shows you like, video games he plays, funny stories from patients you treated. Sometimes when you’re cooking for yourself, you make extra for him. (It happens a lot, actually, and at one point you bring up how much his appetite is costing you and the next time you see him he brings a bag of rice and makes you a porridge that crunches between your teeth when you try to eat it. You can’t finish yours, but he eats an entire bowl and insists that you’re being picky.)

Sometimes he sleeps over on the couch, but he’s always gone when you wake up.

The two of you skirt around the heavier stuff, and you know it’s intentional on his part. You have to resist the urge to ask him about being a villain—he’s all but confirmed it for you, and it’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it? In the same way you can’t help looking at a car crash, you want to poke and prod and find out what it is, exactly, that Tomura does for a living. That part of his life is suspiciously absent from your discussions—if you didn’t know better, you’d think he spends all of his time sleeping and playing games and breaking into your place.

On the other hand, you don’t want to know. Plausible deniability. You can accept criminality in the abstract, but you’ve treated too many victims of the bullshit hero–villain battle to be comfortable really knowing why Tomura avoids public places.

So you don’t ask about it, and Tomura doesn’t tell, and you don’t look up his name. And it’s easy. It’s nice. You’d forgotten what it’s like to come back to a home that isn’t empty.

And then one day when you get off a few hours early from your shift, you stop by a convenience store to pick up some snacks for yourself (hey, you’ve been working hard, you’re entitled to binge a little on foods that you’re afraid to look at the fat content for), and you think, Hm, I wonder if Tomura wants some.

[You: 7:49 PM] > Are you coming over today? [T: 7:49 PM] > Yeah why [You: 7:51 PM] > Getting snacks > Want some? [T: 7:51 PM] > No

[T: 8:12 PM] > When r u coming back to ur place

[T: 8:58 PM] > Hey where are you

[T: 9:39 PM] > (Y/N)?

There’s a man with a gun in the convenience store.

It takes you a second to process at first. You’re standing in the snack food aisle seeking out Oreos and debating the merits of Double Stuf vs. Mega when you catch the mumbled demand and the metallic clicking noise you’ve only ever heard in movies before. It’s a gun—you know that, but your mind dismisses it because it’s ridiculous. Guns are rare in hero society. People don’t go around robbing bodegas at gunpoint anymore.

(You should know better. You work in a goddamn ER. But you compartmentalize, and the crimes you see written across your patients’ bodies stay out of the realm of your personal life because you need them to.)

It’s only when you see the muzzle of a hunting rifle pushed up to the cashier’s sweaty neck that you really understand what’s happening.

You drop to the ground immediately, looking toward the exit but it’s shut and there’s some kind of metal…thing holding the door closed. The cashier mumbles a denial and you can hear him fumble around with the cash drawer for what feels like ages.

It’s real. This is real. You’re in the middle of a robbery. Where are the heroes? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

God, you’re a hypocrite, cowering behind the aisle divider and waiting for someone to step up while the robber’s demands get increasingly louder and more frantic. He wants money, and the cashier (who, you remember, is a man in his sixties with hands that shake with Parkinson’s when he holds out your receipt) isn’t being fast enough.

“That’s it? There’s no more? Are you fucking kidding me, there’s gotta be a safe or something—“

“No! No, p-please, I’m sorry, this is all I have!”

You cringe, crushing your eyes closed as if that will make it go away. You’re surprised you can hear at all over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Don’t fuck with me old man, I know there’s more! Show me the safe or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out!”

No! You have to do something. You can’t just sit here. You’ve heard plenty of death threats from your patients (not to mention that one from Tomura), and you know the difference between a bluff and a serious warning. Maybe you can catch the robber off guard, try to pull the gun away? You stand up quickly, hoping against hope that you won’t regret this, but in a split second you see that the cashier has the same idea and he’s trying to pull the rifle out of the robber’s hand and—

BANG.

Something warm and wet splatters across your face.

///

Tomura is angry when you get back to the apartment. As soon as he hears your key in the lock he rises from your couch so he can grab your collar with three fingers, jerking your head up to force you to look at him. “Where have you been? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting—“

But he cuts short in the middle of his sentence. Maybe because he sees the look on your face. Or maybe he just notices the traces of blood you haven’t been able to wipe off.

“What happened,” Tomura says. It’s not a question. He adjusts his grip slightly so it’s not quite as punishing, but you hold still anyway.

You have to force your mouth open in order to speak, but when your voice comes out it’s more steady than you thought it would be. “It’s not my blood. There was a robbery at the store. The cashier got shot.”

“Oh.” He releases you and frowns. “That’s it?”

“Fuck you.” You push past him into the kitchen to get yourself a drink with trembling hands. Pantry’s out of shōchū, whiskey will just make you sicker—ahh, there it is. Baijiu. The glug glug glug of the liquor into the glass does nothing to put your nerves at ease, but you pour yourself a double anyway.

“Wait—wait.” Tomura’s hands twitch and rub over his arms like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. “Calm down. Why are you so upset? Don’t you see this stuff every day?”

You do. You’re an ER nurse. There’s no injury you haven’t seen. But it’s not about the blood. “I...I knew him. The cashier. He was nice. He had a grandkid on the way. I—“ You bite your lip and down the baijiu in one gulp. It burns.

Tomura clearly doesn’t know how to comfort you; probably doesn’t even really know why you need to be comforted. What does it mean that death is so meaningless to him? you wonder. But you need someone to listen to you, clueless or not, and Tomura will have to do.

The baijiu is still bitter and hot down your throat when you speak again. “You know something? Know what they asked me when the heroes finally showed up and pulled us out of there, me and the corpse?”

“…What?” Tomura asks warily.

“They stuck a camera in my face and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say to the hero who saved me. Any words of gratitude I wanted to share,” you spit. Now it’s your turn to feel your hands making fists at your sides. Your fingernails scratch into your palms like the pain can be an outlet for the sudden overwhelming fury spilling over you. “They didn’t save him. They were too late.”

Tomura’s eyes widen, and through your curtain of anger you can tell he’s looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. It’s unlike him to even look directly at you, and when he does it’s usually in disinterest or half-sincere irritation. This, though…this is different. He’s watching you like a believer watches a prophet. You can tell—or at least some deep, ugly part of you that you hope is wrong can tell—that he’s trying not to smile.

“I hate this,” you say, and the first tear drips out of your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s awful. You don’t want to cry in front of Tomura. You don’t want to show him how weak you are. But before you can wipe it away, Tomura’s hand comes up and does it for you, smearing the tear over your cheek in a gesture that—for him—is oddly tender.

Then he hugs you.

It’s stiff and awkward, like he’s forgotten how to do it, but the intention is clear. His arms fold around your back, pulling you into his chest while his chin makes its way to rest on your shoulder. He’s leaning into you so deeply that your spine is arched back, and you stagger away from him only for him to step closer again to make up the distance.

“It’s not fair, hm,” he murmurs into your hair. His tone is the closest thing to sympathy you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement you can’t ignore. “They’re always too late, aren’t they? The heroes… And everyone will watch that video of you thanking the heroes, and they’ll think they’re safe too. They’ll keep going about their lives and think that nothing bad can happen to them because a hero will always be around to save them…but you and I know that’s a lie.”

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion that’s raising goosebumps over your arms while Tomura rubs circles into your back, but when it clicks you shiver because it’s fear. You’ve never really been afraid of Tomura before, even when you should’ve been. Does he realize he’s backing you up with how forcefully he’s pushing himself into you? The backs of your knees hit the arm of your couch and you topple onto it with Tomura following.

He holds himself above you on his hands, legs tangled with yours. His eyes are wild and he’s not even trying to suppress his grin now. You’re trapped lying on your back under him—pinned like a butterfly under glass.

“Get off of me,” you say as calmly as you can.

“It’s all a lie, all of it…” A hand comes up and strokes your cheek, rubbing with two fingers at a stray fleck of blood on your neck. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, but I’m so glad you understand…”

“Let me up now, Tomura.”

He holds still for a long moment—waiting, thinking, considering—and then sits up, still straddling you but loosely enough that you can scramble back away from him on the couch. Your heart is racing, but you try to slow your breaths so he doesn’t pick up on how scared you are.

“Don’t freak out. You’re no fun,” Tomura says, and you exhale a sigh of relief at how normal he sounds. You never thought you’d be so happy about him looking at you like you’re nothing.

“I think you should go,” you say carefully.

He rocks back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you mad? I thought I could stay here tonight, like usual. Since I waited for so long.”

“I’m not mad. I just…want to be alone.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone tonight. Not after what you’ve been through.”

Oh, now you care. “Fine. Okay? Fine. You can sleep on the couch.” You’re too tired to argue any more, and you’ve never really been good at convincing Tomura to do anything he doesn’t want to. It’s a miracle he listened to you when you told him to get off you. Considering how often he breaks into your apartment, it’s not like you could keep him out anyway.

So he stays the night. He doesn’t bother you when you take a shower and go to bed, he just lies on the couch in his street clothes. When you wake up in the morning he’s disappeared like he always does, and for the first time since you met him you’re truly relieved that he’s gone.

///

You always thought it would take some level of courage you don’t possess to actually bite the bullet and look Tomura up. To do so would mean saying goodbye to whatever strange relationship the two of you have built over the months, and you’re just not brave enough to risk it.

Turns out it’s not courage that makes you type his name into the search bar. It’s cowardice. You’re lying in bed under the covers when you do it, and the blue-white screen of your laptop is the only light in the room. Your comforter is pulled up almost over your head like it’s a wall that can block out reality.

“tomura”, you enter into the search bar, but you don’t hit return. Instead, you look at the search suggestions.

> tomura shigaraki > tomura shigaraki league of villains > tomura shigaraki decay

Something about it sounds familiar. But you’re not ready. Still, after everything, you’d rather keep your eyes closed. You backspace and snap your laptop shut, and when you do your room is so dark that you think the emptiness might swallow you up.

///

[T: 5:52 PM] > Are u going to be at home tn

[T: 6:14 PM] > Hey check ur phone

[T: 6:42 PM] > Stop ignoring me > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N)

[T: 6:46 PM] 3 MISSED CALLS [You: 6:50 PM] > I’m at work [T: 6:50 PM] > Don’t lie > you finished an hour ago

[T: 7:13 PM] 1 MISSED CALL [T: 7:14 PM] > You said you werent mad [You: 7:15 PM] > I’m not [T: 7:15 PM] > Then stop being a brat > im coming over > ill bring takeout

You’re nervous about seeing him, but in the two weeks since he pushed you down on the couch you’ve found yourself…missing him. Like it or not, he’s made himself a fixture in your life. So when you get home you’re brimming with anticipation, wondering who you’ll get when you open the door—the normal Tomura you’ve come to like over the past few months, or the one from that night. The villain.

But it’s just him. Good old Tomura, laden with plastic bags and containers of greasy fast food for the two of you to gorge yourselves on. You tease him for being cheap and he argues that you’re just a snob and everything seems so normal that you can almost forget the look in his red eyes when he told you that you understood.

Almost.

///

You probably have no idea how good you look when you’re crying.

Of the couple thousand views on the news channel video of your “rescue” from the convenience store robber, at least a tenth are from Tomura. Eventually he just downloads the video onto his computer so he doesn’t have to read the inane comments that the other viewers leave on the webpage. It seems like everyone but him thinks you should feel lucky that you were saved by a hero before the robber could get to you, too.

As always, the public are a bunch of shit-soaked morons. Reading the comments makes him angry, so angry he’s tempted to look into a few of these brainless sheep and see how lucky they feel when they’ve caught the attention of a violent criminal. But that wouldn’t be productive, so he saves the video externally and leaves the news website alone. It’s for the best. Besides, seeing the “views” counter on the website tick up and up by the dozen every time he refreshes is just another reminder that other people are watching this; other people are seeing how delicate and vulnerable and pretty you are with tears spilling out of your eyes and the cashier’s blood sprayed over your clothing.

Thousands of useless fucking NPCs are looking at you just like Tomura is. They’re probably thinking about how sweet you look, just like he is. And they’re probably imagining all the ways they can take advantage of your fragile emotional state, just like him.

You’re too trusting for your own good. Tomura used to think it was a virtue, and it is, but only when it comes to him. Whenever he thinks about how your face is slapped over a dozen different news websites for the whole world to see, he has to dig his fingernails into his neck to keep calm. It’s better when he can just watch the video and pretend he’s the only one seeing it.

And it’s not like not watching the video is an option. Tomura can’t resist your crying face. There’s a point around the three minute mark where your voice breaks in the middle of your statement, and sometimes Tomura skips there in the video just so he can hear that pathetic little sob and replay it over and over and over. Maybe it’s sappy, but Tomura really does feel his heart skip a beat at the way your eyes and nose are rubbed red from your misery.

How fucked up is it that he gets off watching you cry?

Would you be angry if you knew? You probably would, but you put up with so much from him already. Maybe you’d be okay with it if he told you he really and truly tried to hold out. The first dozen times Tomura watched the video, he refused to touch himself no matter how tight his pants got while you choked out your stilted answers to the reporters’ questions, but at this point he barely has to click “play” on the video before he gets hard and takes matters into his own hands.

At the end of the day, it’s your fault. Everything about you is so erotic, from your shaky voice to your pouty, bitten-red lips. Isn’t it completely normal to be aroused while looking at the person you like? And Tomura likes you, he really likes you. He doesn’t have any pictures of you, and with the high definition of the news channel’s video he can see every perfect contour of your cheekbones, every pore in your skin, every glistening wet eyelash.

It’s not that Tomura doesn’t feel sympathy for how upset you are in the video. He does! Not even just sympathy, even—he’s empathetic. He knows exactly how it feels to be let down by the heroes. How dare they tell you you need to be grateful while you’re still trying to wipe brain matter off your shirt? Always too little, too late. It’s not fair.

But if he’s being honest? As miserable as you are, Tomura is happy that you were in the store when that robber came in and that you had to watch a man you knew get his brains blown out in front of you. You need a wake-up call to lose faith in hero society. If you have to suffer some emotional trauma in the process, that seems like a fair price to pay.

And the fact that Tomura gets to jerk off to it? It’s almost like destiny.

➠ [Part 3]

[beetlesandstarss]

Chapter 3: Action-flicks, Beer, and Strawberries

To Be Loved For No Reason At All (Series)

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

Summary: It reminds him of watching TV with Nancy, except she used to rest her head in his lap. He looks at Eddie again, red-cheeked and maybe a little drunk, and half-wishes Eddie would do the same.

Notes: HELLO. it took me an extra day to finish this because i graduated yesterday, which was like, a whole-day event. i was awake and running for 23 hours. so to make up for it, i've already finished the next chapter, which i'll either post tonight or tomorrow morning! yay!

chapter's playlist for u: the stage - Shura - side note this song is So Good. like, i could listen to it forever Baby I'm A Fool - Melody Gardot If I Ever Lose My Faith In You - Sting Me and Micheal - MGMT

-

“Feet off the table.” 

“Okay, mom.” 

“Robin’s rules, man.” 

“Wow, didn’t know she had table manners.” 

“Couch manners. Biiiiig difference.” 

“Wow. You’re so right.” 

“Shut up.” 

Steve decides when he’s on his second beer and Eddie’s on his third that it’s kind of thrilling, being at Family Video long after closing hours with the guy. They made themselves at home in the staff room on the ugly beige-blue couch, and as promised, Steve let Eddie choose the movie. Ten minutes into it, he’s still not entirely sure what it’s about (which isn’t Steve’s fault - Eddie keeps humming along to the movie soundtrack and it’s distracting), other than that there are a lot of explosions, and the leading actor looks a little like Tom Cruise. All in all, not too shabby. 

The scene changes to some girl with really red lipstick, and he’s back to watching Eddie through his peripheral vision, who’s biting into a strawberry, eyes shiny in the TV light. His hair is frizzy and voluminous in the humid night - more so than usual - which makes him look kinda pretty, as opposed to just like, handsome. Which objectively, he is. The scene changes, and it casts Eddie’s face in blue, all soft lines and nervous eyebrows. Steve wets his lips. Looks away quickly. 

It’s almost unreal to think they’re here now, still breathing despite everything, and in each other’s company. The two of them didn’t really pal around much during the whole Vecna-fiasco - though he remembers how drawn to Eddie he’d been from the start, how fascinated he’d been by him. 

He had liked that the guy could love metal and be a total nerd at the same time. He’d noticed how his hands would shake when retrieving a cigarette, and how one leg would bounce almost any time he was sitting. The low timbre of his voice. The way his lips twitched, how his eyes raked over him the first time they met after returning from the Upside Down. Like he was seeing Steve for the first time. 

More than anything Steve thinks he had liked Eddie’s mind. The way he seemed to mull over a hundred things he could say before settling on an answer. How, despite the sadness in him, he spent his days having fun, playing DnD. 

Steve was and still is fascinated by Eddie - hairspray and all - that much he can admit. But somewhere along the road, that fascination turned into something else, making watching some cheesy action-flick in the dark with him sort of worth every second they spent in the Upside Down. 

To think it was just yesterday he found him alone and unconscious at Alison’s. He wonders if waking up alone in strange places happens a lot to Eddie. Wonders how long it’ll be till he doesn’t wake up. Wonders if he’s happy. 

Eddie pulls his legs up - again, the bastard - to put them on the table, but Steve’s watching this time, or maybe he never looked away, so before he can, he grabs them. 

Eddie yelps, or tries to, mouth full of strawberries and all. 

Gesturing at him with his beer, he says, “Mwha de fug, man?” 

He chews viciously at him, legs captive in Steve’s arms. 

Steve didn’t really think he’d get this far, so he blinks big eyes at him for a second, then scoots closer to the center of the couch, hauling Eddie’s legs onto his lap. 

Yeah. This’ll do. 

“Robin’s rules, man,” he reiterates from earlier. 

Eddie stops chewing, narrowing his eyes at him. Steve tries to look innocent. And to keep his eyes from dropping to Eddie’s strawberry-red lips. 

Eddie starts chewing again, slowly. “I think you just wanna hold my legs tenderly, Steven.” 

Steve feels a splotchy blush spread its way up his neck, pooling in his cheeks. “Ugh, don’t call me that, man.” 

“Sure, Steven.” 

Eddie shoots him a playful grin and turns so that he’s facing the TV again, spreading his arms out on the armrest, relaxed and still half on top of Steve. A thrill runs up Steve’s spine. It reminds him of watching TV with Nancy, except she used to rest her head in his lap. He looks at Eddie again, red-cheeked and maybe a little drunk, and half-wishes Eddie would do the same. He looks so soft. Soft, and - he’s reaching for another strawberry. Bastard’s gonna run him dry. 

“Hey, gimme one of those,” says Steve. 

Eddie passes him a strawberry without looking, and in a fit of temporary insanity, Steve catches his hand and takes a bite of the strawberry right out of it. Lets himself linger, lip grazing two of Eddie’s fingers. He feels Eddie freeze all over. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Pulse in his throat, he takes another bite. Feels dizzy when he grazes his teeth along Eddie’s fingers. Eddie lets him. He tongues gently at his thumb. Takes a final bite, leaving just the stub. What the hell is he doing? Shit, eating out of a guy's hand should not feel this good. 

Eddie shifts his legs in Steve’s lap. He has time to think, uh oh, and then he’s scrambling off the couch. 

“Pee,” he announces. 

Eddie, who just barely caught himself so he wasn’t vaulted off the couch in Steve’s haste to escape, stares up at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Uuh, what? What the fuck? Hello?” 

“I have to… pee,” Steve explains, incredibly lamely. 

Eddie puts down his beer, looking like he’s about to say something, so Steve bolts. Throws a, “I’ll be right back,” at him as he goes. Locks himself in the staff bathroom. Leans against the sink, and hisses through his teeth. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuckshit,” he murmurs under his breath. Looks up to see a crazed gleam in his own eyes, like a fire’s been lit inside him. Eddie lit that fire. He made him buzz. A boy made him buzz. He… can’t think about this right now. 

God. Worse than that - guy or no - Steve’s better than this. He has never, not once in his life, run away to hide from his date in the bathroom. Except maybe Isabelle, but it’s not like he meant to get locked in. Whatever. His track record’s clean, seeing as he’s here with Eddie and it’s not a date. 

You lick a couple fingers, so what? Doesn’t make you gay. 

Steve nods reassuringly at himself in the mirror. Fixes his hair. Catches himself doing it, says, “C’mon, dude,” under his breath, and hurries out. 

Palms sweating, he shuffles hesitantly back into the room, half-expecting Eddie not to be there anymore. He feels a pang of relief when he sees him, with his legs crossed on the couch. His eyes are stealthily on the TV, lips drawn in a tight line. He’s not eating any strawberries. 

Steve tries to ignore the shame burning his ears. 

Bravely, he plops down in the middle of the couch, right between the crease. A minute ticks by. There are a bunch of car collisions on the TV. Steve barely notices, because he’s been an idiot, and that takes precedence. He picks up the strawberry carton again, tossing the few remaining berries around gently. Holds them out to Eddie and holds his breath. After a moment, Eddie takes them. Steve breathes out. 

They watch the movie in silence. Then - 

“So, that thing you did like, five minutes ago -” 

Fuck. “Uh, ha, let’s not… talk about it?” He cringes. 

Eddie purses his lips. “Okay. Not talking about it, got it.” 

Steve feels another bout of shame well up in him, but can’t bring himself to say anything. He’d just make it worse. He’s good at that. 

Steve rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry -” 

“No, it’s fine,” interrupts Eddie, hand twitching. “Don’t sweat it, Harrington.” 

Steve feels like he should sweat it. 

Still, the minutes tick by, and Eddie eats the strawberries quietly. Slowly his shoulders come down again. It’s a nice reprieve. 

He feels his eyes start drooping during the next action sequence and God, he’s getting old. 

“Is this okay?” asks Eddie suddenly. Steve startles. He hadn’t even realized he’d all but sagged into Eddie so that their thighs are now flush, hands nearly touching. It makes Steve feel dizzy all over again. He can’t trust his body not to give him away when he’s been drinking. 

Mouth going dry, Steve nods once, unsurely, and then a second time, this time confident. Making up his mind, he slowly pulls his arm up from between them, and slips it around Eddie’s shoulders, like he used to do with girls at the movies. 

He feels Eddie hold his breath. 

Almost whispering now, Steve asks, “Is this okay?” 

Eddie looks at him, eyes full of an emotion Steve can’t parse the meaning of. He nods. 

Without meaning to, Steve feels himself start leaning in. A quick intake of breath, and Eddie’s eyes flutter, hands flying to Steve’s jacket, holding onto him. He smells good, up close. Like old cologne and musk. 

Steve feels his mouth watering, and Eddie’s breathing’s gone all funny, but when Steve’s a hair’s breadth away, Eddie ducks, hands slipping from their hold on his jacket. 

Steve feels a pang of hurt and disappointment at the rejection, then squashes it down. Eddie’s eyes are back on the TV, unfocused, knee bouncing a little. 

“Sorry I -” says Steve, but again, Eddie cuts him off. 

“This isn’t something you want,” he says, like a confession. 

Steve’s not sure he heard him right. “What?”

“I’m not something you -” Eddie sighs through his nose frustratedly, jaw clenching. His hands are shaking. “Listen, I get it. We’ve all been there, there’s a - a moment, or something that makes you think this is a good idea. But it’s not. And tomorrow, I’d be your biggest regret. Which sucks a little, you learn the sixth time it happens.” 

Steve feels his stomach clench. “Wha - Eddie, what the heck, man?” 

“Furthermore,” he continues, playing with his jacket’s zipper, “I can’t - I hate being jerked around and - I mean, you know who you were in High School, we know who I am, and I - not to say I care about you or anything, Harrington, but I don’t think I could take that, from you.” He looks small, drawn into himself, as he says it. Tightly-strung. Turning to look deep into Steve’s eyes, he says, almost like he’s begging it to be true, “You’re just drunk.” 

Steve makes a small noise in the back of his throat. He wants to push. Wants to fight. Wants to be able to say he’d choose Eddie over his reputation any day, that he wants to punch the teeth out of whoever made Eddie believe he isn’t worth fighting for. But the words get stuck in his throat, and he realizes suddenly - terribly - that Eddie’s right. Steve jumps headfirst into things all the time. Do now, think later: it's what he lives by. It's saved his life a couple of times, sure. But it's not exactly won him any favors when it comes to relationships. And doing something - hell, just having his arm around the guy, it means… it means a lot of things, none of which Steve knows how to handle. 

“Okay,” he settles on, looking at Eddie with big dumb eyes. “Shit. Okay, Eddie. I’m sorry.” But he doesn't withdraw his arm. He wants Eddie to know. Needs him to know. He's just not sure what, exactly, that is. 

Eddie just nods, like he understands, mouth tugging downwards. Steve swallows the lump in his throat. 

A long while later, Steve jerks awake suddenly. Feels very warm. His face is squished against something soft, and… breathing? He shifts, realizes he’s still got his arm around Eddie, whose head is on his shoulder. He tries not to want this. Fails. 

“You awake?” asks Eddie, voice sleep-rough. 

Steve doesn’t answer, slows his breathing down. Eddie doesn’t say anything else, shifts a little, and then settles again. Steve wills the butterflies in his stomach to go away. Eddie’s warned him now, and fuck if he doesn’t listen. 

-

Notes: also, research for this chapter led me to the fantastic discovery that the movie “Octopussy” exists and was apparently popular during the 80s……. all i will be thinking about for the next month

it's also the reason i didn't end up saying which movie they're watching because, i've decided, it is none of my business