#its the guy that played billy kitchen in series two

[ilovefinncole]

Finn Friday

Finn Friday #48

Date: 9th December 2022

Picture:

Note: Happy Finn Friday here is a picture of Finn with Joe and friends last December! Firstly I’d like to start off and apologise that today is not Friday and I am posting this! I totally forget to do this on Friday so that’s why I have just posted this! I love the pics of Finn and Joe we need more of them really! I hope that everyone has a lovely day! It’s been snowing where I live today hopefully they’ll be more snow on the way!! ❄️☃️💗

Tag-List: @mrs-gray @jera-stargazer

[stormsplurge]

nobody's fool

warnings: none!

pairing(s): seth jarvis x fem! reader

1239 words

a/n: its not directly inspired by the song but i've been listening to shes always a woman by billy joel on repeat for the last 2 days which is where the title comes from. it's also not proofread at all so please ignore any typos or spelling errors. i hope you guys enjoy this one!

“oh my GOD!” you squealed as the last couple of seconds of the game ticked by on the jumbotron and the “canes win” rang out through the arena. 

the hurricanes had won their first game of their series against the rangers, and the entire building was buzzing.

you could feel nykki next to you screaming her lungs out as the two of you jumped up and down in your seats.

a couple of days ago, after returning from new york and losing to the rangers again, you saw a fire get lit under your boyfriend (and the entire teams) ass. they had come back to playoffs with something to prove, trying not to get swept for the second year in a row, and they’d pulled it off. 

as you walked with the other wags towards the locker room you felt a sudden jolt of energy run through your body. after the last game everyone had been down, seth especially. his tendency to place all the blame on himself was in full force, but this win was exactly what he needed to pull himself out of his head.

you were in the middle of making small talk with gracia when the boys began trailing out of the locker room. brady was one of the first ones out, wrapping his arms around his wife as soon as he was within arms reach of her.

“we’re all heading to the bar.” he said. “you and ton of fun should come.”

“thanks for the invite skjeisy.” you replied, before your boyfriend entered your eyeline. 

you shot out a quick “see you there!” before bouncing towards the entrance to the locker room, practically jumping into seths arms. 

“congratulations!” you giggled as he hooked his arm around your waist and began walking the two of you towards the parking lot. 

if you were enthusiastic about the win, seth was practically bursting at the seams with excitement. his trademark giddiness shining around him like a halo.

“oh my god!” he exclaimed as the two of you made it outside. “i have no idea how we pulled that off.”

“i know how.” you replied. “you guys are fucking awesome thats how.”

“you’re my good luck charm you know, we wouldnt have done it without you.”

“whatever you say jarvy.” you said as your cheeks begin to heat up. 

seth was always selfless, insisting that every win was because of anyone but him. doing everything to shine the spotlight on someone else. 

——

as the two of you drove towards the bar you reminisced on your first christmas in winnipeg together. 

it was a white christmas, something you weren’t used to seeing as you had never lived as far north as seth had, and kayden was telling you about how eager seth was to get on the ice with his brother and his friends. he was smaller than all the other guys but still itching to play with them, begging their mom to let him play for a couple more minutes everytime she insisted he get off the ice and take a break.

seth was too busy helping his mom with something to notice that his brother was telling you every embarrassing story he could possibly think of. blowing through the kitchen like a tornado helping as fast as possible so he could get back to his spot right next to you in front of the fireplace. 

kayden was in the middle of telling you about the first year seth was with the winterhawks, how he’d call their parents every night complaining about how much he missed home, when your boyfriend returned to his spot amidst the piles of wrapping paper littered around the living room. 

“kayden!” he exclaims as he sits down. “stop telling embarrassing stories about me you asshole.”

“i’m just telling her what she deserves to know.” kayden responds, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before a throw pillow lands in his face.

seth lets out a long groan before getting up and pulling you with him, slowly dragging you towards his room. the walls littered with duke memorabilia and hockey stuff. 

“he’s such a dick” he whines as he shuffles towards his desk. 

“i think its hilarious.” you reply, making yourself comfortable on your boyfriends bed, craning you neck to try and figure out what he’s trying to find as he rattles through the drawers. 

it isn’t long before he whirls around, a small turquoise box in his hands, and sits in front of you. 

“seth…” you question, “what is this.”

“okay.” he rambles, opening the box and revealing a small necklace within. “i got my mom a car the first year i played, and my dad a car last year, so this year i wanted to get you something nice.”

tears began welling up in the corners of you eyes as he continued his speech.

“… i wasn’t really sure what to get cause you already have a bunch of really nice stuff back home in raleigh, so i asked nykki for help cause she knows that type of stuff and we picked this out.”

the necklace was a simple circle attached to a chain, with one end of the circle wider than the other end. minimalistic, but beautiful.

“oh my god…” you responded. “i don’t even know what to say.”

the gesture alone was enough to bring you to tears. the drops of salty water streaming down your face and pooling at your chin. 

you were at a loss for words, so you opted for closing the gap between you and seth and pulling him into a deep kiss. 

“do you like it?” he asked after you broke the kiss, finally coming up for air.

“i love it seth it’s beautiful.” you replied and you turned and exposed the back of your neck. “do you want to help me put it on?”

“oh yeah yes totally yes please.” seth jumbled out, words falling out of his mouth like loose teeth.

“don’t act like you’ve never seen the back of my neck before.” you joked, turning to face him after he closed the clapse.

“it’s just, like, different this time i guess.”

“youre adorable when you’re flustered.” you remarked, placing your hands on the sides of his jaw and running your thumb over his cheek. “i guess that means i’ll have to get you to help me put on all my necklaces if i want to keep seeing you like this.”

“i would gladly help you put on every piece of jewelry, you don’t even have to say please.”

“careful mr jarvis, someone might hear you and think you’re in love.”

“i’ll shout it from the rooftops i dont care.” he exclaims, throwing his arms in the air and puffing up his chest. “i’m in love!”

“this is the best christmas gift ever” you giggle, falling back onto the bed in your fit of laughter. seth quickly flopping down next to you. 

as you finished reminiscing and found yourself back in the present, sitting in the passenger seat of seth’s beat up old volkswagon, playing with the tiffany necklace around your neck. 

“i love you.” you said as you brought your free hand over top of where seth’s right hand was positioned on top of your leg, tracing circles over the top of his hand. “i know i say it all the time but i’m so proud of you.”

“i love you too.”

[scribblingfangirl]

WITH LOVE, THE GHOSTS | Julie and the Phantoms - Part One

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: Gah… I'm such a procrastinating butterfly. I should be writing my Billy Russo series which I'm so excited about, but I just want to be able to read it already instead of having to write first + I'm currently writing each and every chapter instead of the next one (struggles of a fanfiction writer - am I right?). So, what do I do instead? I flew from one of my obsessions to another and got inspired by this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial​ prompt. 

Anyways... This fic will be a little to late for some of you guys, but still: Merry Christmas everyone! And if you do not celebrate Christmas I still hope you have a wonderful day and a rest of the year filled with love and happiness. You did it, you fought through it. I’m sure you had your own pair of himbo ghosts taking care of you.

word count: ~ 1k

summary (and basically background info): Y/N is Julie's & Flynn's friend who doesn’t know about the ghosts (let’s just say she believes that they’re holograms). The boys become attached to Y/N due to her kindness and positivity and do everything in their (ghostly) powers to keep her days sunny and bright, especially in winter.  Or: Two times Y/N is oblivious to the boys 'paranormal' activities and the one time she notices it

prompt: Comfort in the Cold by @flashfictionfridayofficial​

warnings: english is not my first language, therefore, typos

| Part Two | Part Three |

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#1: Luke

Slowly and quietly you made your way down the stairs of the Molina household, leaving Julie's and Flynn's sleeping forms behind. Even though you had just watched multiple Christmas movies and probably eaten double your weight in popcorn, your stomach was still asking for more. As Julie knew about your habits of needing a midnight snack and since Ray repeatedly told you to make yourself at home you weren't feeling bad about stealing some small bits and pieces out of their fridge or cupboards.

Which is why you were straining your ears to hear any sounds that might indicate that you had woken up either Carlos or Ray, but you were only met with silence. Releasing the breath you were holding you hastily hopped down the last few steps down to the living room, grabbed the stair railing and used the momentum of your movement to swiftly swing yourself in the direction of the kitchen, freezing at the sight that greeted you.

A quick glance at the clock told you it was 2 a.m. and the continuous silence indicated that nobody except you was awake and around. Yet, as you hesitantly took a view steps towards the kitchen counter, pulling your blanket like a shield tighter around your body, there was a perfectly fine peanut-butter/jelly sandwich waiting for you, a smiley made out of Nutella painted onto it. Your favourite midnight snack.

A small note peaked out from under the plate and it took you some time to decipher the chicken scratch. Can't have our favourite groupie going to bed hungry! 

Smiling and shaking your head, thinking that either Julie or Flynn must have sneaked out of the room sometime earlier to make you this sandwich you happily bit into it. 

If you'd known that there was a brown-haired ghost with hazel eyes sitting opposite to you and watching you with a smile, the sandwich would have probably gotten stuck in your throat.

#2: Alex 

Doing multiple Christmas movie marathons would be fun they said. No need to worry they said. Only Christmas cheer and joy they said. Well… long story short, even fun movies can make you bawl like a baby! 

A few days after the midnight snack incident, which you completely forgot about, you were once again sitting on Julie's bed. With her and Flynn to your left and right, you had been watching different movies on her computer. Currently, however, you were only trying. Tears were blurring your vision and your sniffles were the only sounds reaching your ear. 

Pressing the plushy's soul that Flynn had won you at a fair out of its body and sobbing into it, you felt Julie shift beside you and lay her head in your lap and mumbling something while Flynn was searching for a handkerchief.

"Whose idea was it again to watch this movie?" you tried to ask, but your voice came out all thick and full of emotion, so you weren't sure if they understood or heard you at all.

What you didn't know was that the boys were watching the movie, and now mostly you, with big eyes.

"Remember the day when Julie was crying in the garage and then Flynn came in crying too? Remember how I said that two girls crying are worse than one girl crying? This… this is way worse!" Luke pointed exaggeratedly at every single one of you and moved quickly out of Flynn's way when she left the room to get a box of tissues. 

"Dude… they're not actually crying crying. It's just a really sad movie," Alex said and sighed quietly when he heard Reggie whisper, "Do you think that's what Willie meant when he said Caleb floods the place during movie night?"

"That's... no, okay." Shaking his head Alex moved towards the bed and sat carefully at Flynn's place to not alert you of the shift beside you. Then he gently took a paw of the plushy that you weren't currently pressing into an embrace and lifted it to wipe away your tears and free your sight. 

You sniffled, too confused and full of emotion to realize what just happened and that it couldn't possibly have been Julie or Flynn, and whispered a small, "Thank you". 

Alex smiled, proud of his action.

#3: Reggie

You didn't even bother to take off your shoes or wipe away the residual snow still sticking to your hair as you flopped yourself down onto your bed, groaning into your pillow. Everything was already grey, wet or at least soggy anyway. To say your day had been bad was an understatement.

It's the most wonderful time of the year With the kids jingle belling And everyone telling you be of good cheer It's the most wonderful time of the year

Confused you lifted your head and starred at your computer who apparently decided to become sentient and cheer you up.

It's the hap-happiest season of all With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings When friends come to call It's the hap-happiest season of all

The next thing that happened would forever be burned into your brain. Your favourite pen suddenly lifted itself up into the air and started to scribble down onto a nearby paper. Slowly and unsure you stood up and inched closer to your desk, but as soon as you were able to sneak a peak onto the paper the pen stopped and fell down.

Shaking your head you rubbed your eyes and turned back to your bed. "This is the weirdest lucid dream I ever had." The moment you flopped back down onto your bed you heard the familiar scratching of pen on paper again. Turning your head there it was again - the floating pen. "What?"

However, once again, as soon as you reached the desk the pen fell down, lifeless. “Alright... alright. I understand! Don’t worry, I won’t sneak a peak.”

"I am dreaming... right?" You weren't. Pinching yourself hurt, trying to breathe through a closed nose didn't work and your pointer finger would not move through the palm of your hand.

Shakily, yet weirdly motivated by the happy Christmas music still playing in the background, you picked up the note laying beside the now still pen. "Merry Christmas Y/N! Lots of love from Reggie, Alex and… Who?" 

"It told you, Luke… I should just have signed for us all."

"Shut it Reg, I know my handwriting sucks."

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (3)

Synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

Pairing: yandere!Taehyung x f!reader

genre: angst, horror, weirdly some fluff lol

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, stalking, manipulation, conditioning, mentions of abuse, suicidal ideations/attempts, self harm, murder, depictions of torture etc (basically its gorey and fucked up), angel trap, etc stabbing and guns. do not read if triggered!!!!

wordcount: 2.2k

taglist: @yes-sol-not-soul @yoongiofmine

a/n: pt 3 is here!! honestly i wasnt expecting this amount of support as i’ve never published my writing before so thank u sm ♡ i was inspired to write this one night and i had no idea where it’d go or anything but i’m happy with the way its turning out :D fun fact abt me, i’ve been obsessed w the franchise since i was little and i actually have 2 saw tattoos, one of billy and one above saying “cherish your life” since that’s pretty much the motto of saw :) and i have quite the collection of saw/billy items so why not turn my fav horror film into a fucked up love story! let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist and pls enjoy reading^^ feel free to send me asks abt the series or anything u want~ i love hearing from u guys!! :D ps— taehyung and the reader dont have much interaction in this part,, theyll definitely be more of them together in part 4 :) unedited so pls excuse any mistakes!! tysm <33 and remember these are fictional characters and do not represent bts personally in any way!!

series masterlist

part one part two

The headlines constantly named the Jigsaw Killer, Billy. The somewhat eerie little doll that had a face as white as a Calla Lily with spirals on it’s cheeks as red as the blood that was shed during the tests. Billy was always dressed in a little black suit with a red bowtie and he was (most of the time) situated on a squeaky battered tricycle. Attached was always a tape that read “play me” and when the subjects did, a chilling voice— one that could make even the world's worst predators shiver with terror— would echo around the room.

Everyone knew that a doll clearly wasn’t responsible, yet they gave it the name Billy in hopes to somewhat humanise the face that instilled panic— they did not want to live in fear.

It was the only face behind the killings.

But this time, there was a different subject stuck in the test and Billy had made sure there was no way for them to survive.

“How are you scared of heights? You’re practically a giant yourself!”

“Just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I can’t be scared of heights Y/Nie.”

You had no idea how long had passed since Taehyung had turned up at the garage, you were too busy chatting away squeezed into the kitchen while your Dad, Yoongi and Hobi worked on the cars in the shop. If anyone could hear you both, they would think you’d known eachother since childhood— the playful jokes and light touches exaggerated that.

You’d only known him for a few hours really, if you added the time spent with him on the first day and now. It hadn’t seemed like all those weeks ago that you first met, he had a familiar presence, as though you had known him for years compared to the hours.

“I just wouldn’t imagine you to be scared of anything Taehyung… you seem so confident and fearless.”

You saw the way Taehyung looked at you. His eyes flashed with understanding.

“I did have my fears back then, much like yours.”

“What do you mean?” you had a rough idea on what he meant but you needed him to voice it.

A deep inhale and the words flowed from his lips before he could stop it, “The fear of living. I had been through some stuff you know, growing up. My mum was working a lot and my dad was an alcoholic, he was so fucking possessive and wouldn’t let her go anywhere without kicking off. It was a fucking shitshow and so toxic. This one time though, I’d pretended that I’d gone to school and waited outside the front door. It didn’t take long before I heard shit getting smashed and my dad shouting.” Taehyung was telling the truth only, he left out the part where he was also as possessive, if not more, than his father. Well, let's say… obsessive. “I just ran in the house and saw my dad towering over my mum and I don’t remember what happened but, I do remember my mum crying and my dad disappeared.”

Now Taehyung was lying through his teeth. He remembered clearly, almost like it was yesterday. He smashed the nearest bottle, pulled his mother away from the monster that scared her and stabbed him. Not just once, not twice but thirty-seven times. Hence the thirty seven tattoo on the palm of his right hand (the one he’d actually killed his father with). There was only Taehyung who knew what it meant, he counted every single time the broken glass pierced his father’s body, he counted with a smile on his face and a chuckle in his throat.

You were at a loss for words. Your mouth gaped in shock, eyes wide and your brain scrambled for the right thing to say. You reached over and grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. His thumb running back and forth along your hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” There was no way you could relate, your mother and father were happy and in love. They had the ideal relationship, one you wished for yourself. You could empathise though.

“You don’t need to be sorry baby, it’s in the past and I’ve moved on from it. I was like you though, poisoned by the roots that keep you on the ground even though you wanted nothing more than to break free and be no longer.” A silence fell over you both before Taehyung uttered, “I wasn’t successful with my attempt so now I’m here to help you.”

Warmth spread throughout your body, a smile graced your features as you no longer felt alone.

You had a completely different idea to what those words actually meant.

It was nearing the evening when Taehyung’s car had been fixed. Yoongi popped his head in the kitchen to tell him but stopped himself so as to not interrupt the scene before him. You were laughing along to whatever Taehyung was babbling about with your hand resting on his bicep, with that look in your eyes that he hadn’t seen for years. Yoongi felt himself smile as he saw you hanging onto Taehyung's every word.

For the first time in forever, you looked alive.

Yoongi cleared his throat which drew yours and Taehyung’s attention, “Sorry to interrupt guys. We’ve finished with your car so whenever you’re ready we’ll be outside.” The infamous gummy smile overtook his features, you felt yourself beam in return.

“Thanks man! I’ll be like, five minutes.”

Yoongi nodded his head in reply and swiftly left the room.

You’d taken Tae’s hand into yours, playing with the array of rings that occupied his fingers. Solemn thoughts overtook, am I not gonna see him again? Was this, whatever this is, over before it had even begun? Your eyes stayed on his hand as you turned it over and traced your finger over the inked ‘thirty seven’ on his palm. “What does this mean?”

Taehyung didn’t think twice before he practically beamed out, “It’s my lucky number.”

The difference was, it wasn’t really his lucky number… although he did see it that way. It was the number that had stayed with him. It was something he was proud of, whenever he looked at the hand that killed his father, his chest filled with pride and a joyous feeling overtook his senses. It was his first murder. Something he relished in and thus, created the onslaught of Jigsaw killings. He targeted a certain type— those whose sins would lock them up forever if they were ever found out. Racists, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, con-men. Authoritative figures who abused their power. He even went as far as subjecting suicidal people.

You see, things aren’t sequential. Good doesn’t lead to good, nor bad to bad. People who steal, don’t get caught, they live the good life. Others lie, cheat and get elected.

Some people would call it karma but Taehyung, he called it justice.

He’d started this with one thing on his mind— those that don’t appreciate life do not deserve it.

Whenever a serial killer was on the loose, the press did what they always did. They gave them a nickname. While the public had named the doll Billy. The actual killer was named ‘Jigsaw’.

This stemmed from the jigsaw piece that was cut from the victims skin, no one knew why he was doing it or what it even stood for.

It did have a meaning although unknown to the public.

The jigsaw piece that was cut from the subjects was only ever meant to be a symbol that that subject was missing something. A vital piece of the human puzzle. The survival instinct.

After all, until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Across town an underground abandoned warehouse, was where the next subject had found themselves.

They were suspended in the air, their feet merely dangling above the ground. The putrid smell of death lingered in every crevice, the sound of rats scurrying along the concrete floor filled their ears just as they began to stir awake.

A pain in their ribs was the overwhelming factor to them finally coming around. When they groggily opened their eyes, they were paralised with fear due to the scene in front of them.

A doll sat a few feet ahead, perched upon a tricycle. Adorned with a black suit and a red bowtie. A slow red light flashed in his eyes.

Billy.

Before the subject could even register how, when or why they found themselves trapped in a test, footsteps echoed behind them. The subject called out, “Help! Please, somebody help! I shouldn’t be here!”

A tsk reached their ears, as a disembodied voice replied, “Trust me, no one can hear you. Scream all you like. You’d just be wasting your breath, you may as well cherish it before it's gone.”

With hairs stood on end, the subject stilled. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” The man's footsteps grew louder. “I’m here to serve justice, that’s all.”

The man rounded the subject, settling in their view with only his cloaked back visible while he tended to the little doll. He touched Billy delicately—like he was a little child that he loved dearly. He combed his gloved hand through the doll's black hair and eventually pulled his fingers from the tresses to pat his head gently.

“You fucking psycho! Let me go!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that which only infuriated the subject more causing them to shake in anger, a movement they soon ceased when they realised something was penetrating their ribs.

“I’d be very careful if I was you, we wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now… would we?” The cloaked figure spun around. An angry glint to his eye.

“What the fuck, you’re fucking crazy. Let me out, this isn’t right!” The subject tried their hardest to swing their legs, to somehow kick the man who’d imprisoned them.

“I think you’ll find it is right. You’re unworthy of the body you possess.” He inched closer, “see, when someone purposely intends to harm others, they lose their right to life.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The man arched a brow as he replied, “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He felt like it was a game of cat and mouse except, he was a tiger and his subject, was the tiniest prey to mankind. “But, let me remind you! Since you can’t get your thick fucking head to work. You’re a liar, a cheater and an abuser. That ring any bells?”

The subject's face dropped.

“Ah, I see by your expression you know exactly what I’m talking about! Glad to see we’re on the same page.” He shrugged his cloak off placing it to the side of the doll. “I want to play a game.”

“What game? This isn’t a fucking game! You’re sick in the head you fucking cunt!”

The atmosphere shifted, the man remained calm while the subject went ballistic.

“What is this? What fucking game?”

“You feel the machine that’s currently occupying your ribs? Well, in about ten minutes that’s going to rip you apart. I’m proud to say that trap is my baby. I’ve been working on it especially for you! How nice is that?” he reached out to tug at the subject’s legs, tormenting them like a cat would a mouse. “Anyway, as my beautiful angel trap will rip you apart, my darling little friend Billy over here,” the subject followed the direction the man's hand pointed, “is going to match your face with the ugliness of your soul.”

“Fuck, fuck this! How do I stop it? Tell me how I fucking stop it!”

A boxy grin overtook the man's face, laughter poured from his mouth as he leaned over and slapped the subject’s leg. “This is a special game.”

“Who are you? What do you mean by ‘special game’?”

He raised himself so he stood tall and grabbed a knife from his pocket, “I’m the man you call Jigsaw.” He traced the tip of the knife along the subject’s ankle, “and when I say a special game… I mean you can’t get out.” While the subject was screaming in realisation, Taehyung walked back for his cloak, hung it over his shoulder and stalked off back the way he came. He sent one last smile to the subject as he rounded them and within the blink of an eye, he gripped the knife and slashed the subject’s achilles.

A chilling scream pierced the eerie atmosphere, the subject couldn’t string words together. Abundances of anxiety, terror and pure panic took reign of their body. Taehyung grabbed the injured muscles and forced his gloved fingers in as he gripped and twisted them, “That’s for Y/N.”

Taehyung had pressed the timer before he cut the subject’s tendons. He grabbed the tape from his pocket and threw it on the ground and with a chuckle he shouted, “Game over!”

Before he reached the end of the hallway, he heard the gunshots pierce his subjects face followed by the sound of the angel trap, even this far away Taehyung heard every crack of the ribs and the noise of the body being tore apart.

Without looking back, Taehyung rounded the corner and slammed the door shut.

He’d chosen the Angel trap for the irony, the subject that was currently hanging from the ceiling was no angel. They were a fucked up, evil, waste of space. Taehyung had done the world a favour, he’d done you a favour.

That got him thinking, how much blood would you shed in order to stay alive?

[a/n: who do we think was in the trap???👀]

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Uncertain Certainties P2

Series Masterlist - Pietro Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: After waking up in a room you don’t know and discovering you are married to a man you don’t know, you feel reality slowly slipping away from you.

Pairing: Pietro x Fem!Reader / Wanda x Vision

Warning: Mention of character death.

‘Are you almost ready,‘ a voice calls from outside the bedroom. You feel a shock go through your body, as if someone just caught you doing something you shouldn’t be doing.

‘Yes, nearly done, just finishing up my makeup,‘ you call back. You bite on your lip when you hear the door open. Damn this house and its lack of locks. Pietro’s face peeks around the corner. Your Pietro. This isn’t right. Pietro is dead.

‘You look stunning,‘ he awes. You feel your whole body cringe at the lack of accent in his voice. No Russian endearment in his sentence like he used to put into every single sentence that related to you. Hell, your Pietro was unable to speak to you without calling you his princess every other sentence.

‘Thanks.‘ You reluctantly look back in the mirror. You feel like you’re seeing a shell of yourself, a caricature even. Yes, you might be a nurse for the Avengers but you’d never think of dressing as a “sexy“ nurse for Halloween. You wouldn’t even do that before you became a nurse.

‘And what do you think of mine,‘ Pietro questions. You look at his outfit, which is merely a t-shirt with a duct tape lighting bold over the chest and shorts with tights under them. You chuckle at his appearance. At least that’s one thing you can laugh about in this insane situation.

‘You look wonderful,‘ you smile at him and run your fingers through his hair as if it had to be that way, ‘maybe we should mess with your hair a little. Complete the look.‘

‘What do you suggest?‘ You point at the bottle of hairspray on your makeup table. He raises his eyebrows in question. ‘You sure about that?‘ You nod and push him towards it, laughing all the way. Why are you laughing? You want to cry and lay in bed all day.

‘Come on, let me brush your hair,‘ you tell him. He sits down for you and lets you work on his hair. When you get to the front, he puts his hands gently on your hips to keep you steady. You look into his eyes. 

It’s as if your mind wants you to see Pietro but your eyes see another person. Your mind takes over and you lean down to press a chaste kiss on his lips. He grins when you move away and continue to work on his hair.

‘All done,‘ you smile and lean onto the dresser to have a look at your work. It almost looks like he has two animal ears peeking up from his hair. Another chuckle slips from your lips and you try to hide it behind your hand.

‘Woman, what have you done to me,‘ he laughs, going to ruffle his hair with his hands but you stop him, taking his hands in yours. He pulls your hands towards him and presses a kiss on your knuckles. ‘We should get going. I promised the boys to join in their trick or treating.‘

.

‘Wanda, hey,‘ you smile and hug your friend, ‘you look stunning. Scarlet witch, right?‘

‘Indeed, thank you very much,‘ she smiles and pulls you inside. Vision walks down the stairs and you have to suppress a laugh. His face is bright red and he looks like he doesn’t know how to wear basketball shorts.

‘My dear, what did she do to you Vision,‘ you snort a laugh. He rolls his eyes and sighs. Pietro is already more than happily playing with Billy and Tommy. Videogames. Hm. You never thought Pietro would like those that much. They never move as fast as he does.

‘Well, you have fun tonight, darling,‘ Vision says as he starts to walk towards the door. Wanda whips her head around, following him closely with her eyes.

‘What? What do you mean? You’re all dressed and ready to go.‘

‘I’m undercover,‘ Vision dramatically explains to her, ‘Halloween is a bacchanal for adolescent trouble-makers and the neighborhood watch is the only thing that stands between the trees and the toilet paper.‘ Wanda looks confused and annoyed.

‘No, that’s not what you’re supposed to-‘

‘What?‘

‘Well,‘ Wanda sighs and crosses her arms, ‘you didn’t tell me you had plans.‘ A storm is brewing. You feel out of place, like you’re not supposed to stand behind her. So you move to the couch to watch Pietro play games with the boys.

‘Well, I am telling you now,‘ Vision replies calmly. For a second, you feel as if you’re zoning out. As if the world has gone to a standstill but you can see Billy move and talk. Pietro can see it too. You see him move.

‘It’s their first Halloween. You have to be there,‘ Wanda argues with Vision. Pietro jumps up and gives you a wink. He walks up behind Wanda and Vision, trying to defuse the situation.

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s the big dealio? Big guy has a conflict, twins need a father figure for the night. Don’t sweat is sis. I got the old XY chromosome. Uncle P to the rescue,‘ he tells Wanda as if that should calm her down but Pietro would never say that and you know.

‘There you go,‘ Vision says and pats Pietro on the shoulder, ‘problem solved. You have a spooky time tonight, kids.‘

‘Goodnight, dad!‘ ‘Bye, dad.‘

Vision turns back to Wanda and gently puts his hands on her shoulders. ‘Wanda?‘ He presses a kiss to her cheek but she seems reluctant and confused. ‘Be good.‘ Something’s very, very off.

You don’t get much time to think about it, because as soon as the door closes you hear Wanda scream, making you scream in fear. You turn around to see Pietro scaring her. ‘Don’t do that!’ We call out in synchrony. 

‘Where do you keep your water balloons?‘ It’s as if he’s in a totally different world. He doesn’t care about you or Wanda. He’s just here to make a mess.

‘What? We don’t have water balloons,‘ Wanda tells him.

‘Where are we gonna put all this shaving cream?‘ You still feel like you’re outside the scene. Tommy is standing up to join the adults in conversation but meanwhile you and Billy are just staring at an static TV screen.

‘Wanda?‘ You call out to her as she starts walking to the kitchen. She turns back around, again looking confused as to why you’re speaking just as she had looked confused at Vision’s plans.

‘What is it dear?‘

‘Something’s not right,‘ you tell her. She sits down on the couch with you, looking concerned as ever. ‘That is not my Pietro. That’s not your brother. My Pietro died in Sokovia.‘

‘No he didn’t, he’s right there,‘ Wanda chuckles away your worries but you grab her hands to stop her from leaving.

‘Wanda, listen to me,‘ you say sternly, ‘that is not my Pietro, I have never been next door before today, and I would never marry a man like him, whoever he may be.‘ She sighs and rubs her thumbs over the backs of your hands, looking caring but disappointed.

‘I’m so sorry. I thought we could be happy here,‘ Wanda tells you, ‘all of us. Together.‘

‘What are you talking about,‘ you question her, tears springing into the corners of your eyes, ‘I was happy.‘

‘But Pietro-‘

‘What about him? I loved him more than anything but he would’ve wanted me to  move on. Keep living life,‘ you tell her. Everyone around you freezes. It’s as if time stands still. Wanda shakes her head.

‘I’m sorry I have to do this,‘ she softly tells you. Suddenly, the air is knocked out of you. You see all of Westview fly past your eyes until you are spit through a barrier and land in the grass. You cough and wheeze, trying to get your breathing normal again.

Suddenly, there are people with guns standing around you. All of them ready to shoot. 

‘What’s going on,‘ you ask them. They share conflicted looks between each other until one finally speaks up.

‘We don’t know.‘

[inky-duchess]

Things Writers can learn from Scream

The Scream Franchise though it does have its flaws is actually one of my favourite film sagas. Wes Craven's features have taught teenagers around the world how to avoid slaughter from a masked fiend but as writers what can we learn from the master of horror himself?

Being Meta

Meta is the termed coined for when a particular work takes an opportunity to comment on its genre. Scream is a whole film that spends its entire run poking fun at the horror genre itself. The characters lampshade clichés (Randy has this role over the main trilogy), insult their foils in similar works (Sidney roasting all other final girls as big breasted bimbos for example) and the whole work is unafraid to really poke fun at itself. The comments on the genre, characters and story itself are refreshing but meta references are like salt, too much spoils any dish. Though the concept of Scream is a meta commentary on the horror genre as a whole, the films know when to quit. There is no point beating the audience over the head with commentary. If your story is a journey, any meta reference is a treat of some McDonald's. If you as a writer, chooses to comment on the genre you're currently writing or want to make comment on real world issues, there is nobody stopping you but coose your battles.

Genre Rules

So Scream runs on a very simple formula. Each film follow a series of rules, lampshading that very horror film/ trilogy + reboot does indeed follow formulas. For example- Rules to succesfully survive a horror movie: Never have sex (virgins usually survive these situations). Never drink or do drugs. You will nearly always die if you say "I'll be right back", "Hello?" or "Who's there?". Sequels- The body count (or volume of action) is always bigger. The death scenes (plot points) are always much more elaborate. Never assume the Killer/villain is defeated. The final chapter of a trilogy- The Killer (antagonist) will be more difficult to defeat. Anyone can die (the stakes will go up). The past will bite you in the ass (the past will catch up with a character or prove to be the undoing of the antagonist). Remakes- Don't fuck with the original. As writers, we have to face the truth- all genres have rules and expectations. Don't clock yourself for being unoriginal if your WIP falls into a category. But that doesn't mean we are constrain. You have rules in the genre but that doesn't mean you can't bend them. Sidney has sex in the first film, Randy drinks at the party, Gale says "I'll be back", even Joel the camera guy lampshading that diverse characters don't often make it through to the climax. The audience expects them to die and they are spared, which is a refreshing turn of events.

Red Herring

Scream is also a whodunit at heart. Ghostface is a persona taken on by many antagonists over the four films. Most of the films keep up the suspense by teasing characters as the possible killer. Red herrings is a literary trick devised to mislead the audience and sometimes characters from deducing the truth too easily. In the first film, we are given more than our fair share of red herrings. The most masterful red herring is Billy Loomis. The film makes a hard go of planting the idea that he is the killer: a phone falls out of his pocket after Ghostface has chased Sidney around the house, a tendency appear when Ghostface has suddenly vanished from a crime scene, and acts so creepy, that the audience assumes he isn't actually the killer and the writers are trying to distract us. It all comes to a head when Ghostface stabs him during the final bloodbath right after Sidney plants one last seed of doubt in our heads. While Sidney runs around trying not to die, the audience and no doubt Sidney, feels bad for doubting Billy. But in a twist, he has faked his death and is one of two killers. Multiple characters over the franchise are used as red herrings: the overzealous blade happy Principal Himbry, Dewey who is nearly always absent when Ghostface calls, Derek who is a red Herring by default because we naturally suspect the boyfriend after Billy, Kincaid's knowledge of horror and his popping up odd times, Deputy Judy for her creepy behavior and knowledge of the prior crimes, Billy-Loomis-expy Trevor in Scream 4. Make the audience look left while you hit them from the right. 

Pov trick Shots

So I've spoken about how much I love multiple POVs and all the tricks you can play with them. And Scream 2 provides the best example. All throughout the film, reporters gather about our characters trying to get interviews. Gale and Cotton are both approached by Debbie Salt, a seemingly nondescript background character who is likely there to get killed for entertainment value. Then comes the climax and she strides into view carrying a gun. The audience and Fake don't understand at first but Sidney sure does and she would, as Debbie Salt is Mrs. Loomis. Sid could recognise Mrs Loomis despite her lost weight (Gale only clicks after the fact) but Sidney never meets Mrs Loomis until the end of the film.  Had she met her before or stumbled across her, the film would be over in seconds most likely.

Foreshadowing

Foreshadowing is when the events of a story are lampshades before they happen. Scream is one of the top works that does this well. On the topic of Mrs Loomis, she is foreshadowed so heavily that it almost is laughable when you rewatch it: Randy says that the killer could be somebody other than a white male citing Mrs Vorhees as his prime example (Mrs Loomis is the first Ghostface's mom), Randy is then rather savagely slain in a frenzied attack in broad daylight after badmouthing Billy and then she even foreshadows her own identity by claiming before other reporters that the new Ghostface could be from Woodsboro. In Scream 3, Randy's sister - who we didn't know existed- suddenly shows up with all the answers foreshadowing the reveal that Roman is Sidney's half brother and holds the answers to why all the killings happened. In Scream, Randy jokingly tells Stu that he'll see him in the kitchen with a knife after flaunting the 'I'll be right back' rule - and Stu ends up there, wielding a knife.

Characters

The thing with franchises like this, is that they often bring in new characters to surround the main character as they go through their travails. In the first Scream, Sidney has Tatum, Stu, Billy and Randy as friends. We see them interact with Sidney and other characters, they have personalities and their deaths actually impact us. Each of these characters shine on their own though Tatum is perhaps the flattest of the first group of friends but her rapport with Sidney and Dewey saves her and makes her death impactful. The background characters of Scream 2, we're introduced to Hallie, Derek and Mikey. Mikey did not have enough screen time for the audience to attach themselves to, he's merely as Randy puts it "the creepy film student". Hallie can only be seen around Sidney and does little except support Sidney. Derek does venture out of his supporting role, with having a goal (winning Sidney's trust), having a personality (his humour with his song) and being seen without Sidney (when the frat kidnap him). In Scream 4, almost every supporting character is ridiculously clichéd. You have the douchey guy (Trevor), the nerd (Robbie/Charlie), the edgy cool girl (Kirby), the pretty one (Olivia). The only one who makes any sort of impact is Kirby for showing us some personality and her death is actually hurtful. If you're going to introduce new characters to a story, they cannot be statuesque. They are people too. They need drive, personalities, lives outside the MC's life, goals of their own and should be seen acting as independent entities if they are to be taken seriously as characters.

[dw-writes]

heya, can i request no. 15 on ‘the way you said i love you’ prompts? for billy butcher?

‘loud, so everyone can hear’ - i was thinking like during an argument in front of the boys, maybe? if you dont mind me requesting specifics 😊 but if you have another idea for it please go with that! ❤️

(one of these days im gonna watch season two and im gonna stop writing all of these set during season one and its gonna be GLORIOUS. i did have to read up on lamplighter tho for this only because im Like That and wanted my reference to be accurate. I hope you like this!!!! (also, ive discovered i really love writing big strong men getting into slap fights) warning for language)

Loud, so everyone can hear

You had been arguing with Billy for going on thirty minutes, shouting at each other from behind a closed door. The night hadn’t started like that. It had actually started pleasantly, with movies and drinking. And then you said you wanted to go with them on their little Supe Hunt. That was when the voices were raised and you had dragged Billy somewhere with a door. Not that it helped.

The door swung open, bouncing against the inner wall of the bedroom, and Billy stormed out, pulling his coat over his shoulders. “You’re not fuckin’ coming!” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Why the fuck not?” you yelled back, following him out with your socks in your hand.

Hughie, who had been sitting at the table, not so subtly texting, shot a look at Frenchie, who stood in the kitchen. Frenchie have a minute shake of his head, then dropped his chin to his chest as he continued to look at something in his hands. M.M. glanced up from the couch long enough to catch your eye and glare at you, then flopped back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

Billy whirled around, making you stop short to avoid running into him. “Because I fuckin’ said so,” he snapped.

“So, how many times are you guys gonna say fuck this time?” Hughie mused as he flipped over his phone.

Billy yanked the socks from your grip and threw them at him. You scoffed. “First of all,” you said, poking Billy’s chest, “Don’t take shit out of my hands, that’s fucking rude.”

“That’s four,” Hughie mumbled.

Frenchie clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Secondly, you are not the fucking boss of me, William,” you spat his name like it was a curse and he flinched. “And third, I can do whatever the fuck I want to.”

“Six,” Hughie whispered.

“Shuddup Hughie,” you and Billy snapped in unison.

Billy flicked your hand away from his chest and tapped a finger square against your sternum – something you absolutely hated – and said, “I don’t want you out there because that cunt,” he jabbed his finger again, right in the same spot, just to emphasize his point, “Killed Becca. That b-list junkie shit stain exploded Hughie’s bird all over the sidewalk,” another thump to your chest, “And let’s not forget our favorite,” thump, “Walking,” thump, “Zippo, and Mallory. You’re not,” thump thump, “Going into some drug farm just to play with the big boys.”

You swatted at his hand, which earned a series of swats back. “Fuck!” you squealed as Billy slapped your hand rather hard. “What is your fucking point, Billy?!” you shouted.

“I’m not about to let another person I love walk out that fuckin’ door if I can do somethin’ to stop it!” Billy bellowed. You stared at him, mouth half open and ready to continue screaming but the words were stuck in your throat. You could feel the eyes of everyone else pivot towards Billy, who was frozen, face completely smooth with abject terror as he watched you. Never had you felt something that he said stick to you so violently than that.

The couch creaked as M.M. sat up and threw an arm over the back. “I fuckin’ told you he’d say it first, AND that it would be in an argument. That’s two-hundred bucks.” Frenchie sucked on his teeth in the kitchen and tossed the spoon he was cleaning into the sink with a swear you didn’t recognize. M.M. waved a hand at Hughie. “And you owe me a hundred, because you thought it wouldn’t be Butcher that cracked first.”

Billy’s eyes cut over your shoulder. “Did you lot bet on me sayin’—”

“You love me?” you cut in, lifting your hand to gently shove against Billy’s chest. He sputtered but returned his attention to you. You puffed your cheeks and shoved him again with less force. He caught your hands, trapped them against his chest with a small but growing smirk. “And that’s how you chose to say it? That’s so fuckin’ dramatic!”

“That’s ten times,” Hughie commented as he fished out his wallet from his back pocket.

“Shuddup, Hughie,” you and Billy commented.

The man in front of you tilted his head. “Your hands are sweaty,” he pointed out.

You squirmed your fingers and yanked them back, swatting his shoulder as you walked past him to grab your socks off the table. “I’m still going.”

“The fuck you are!” Billy growled as he followed you.

Frenchie collapsed at the table next to Hughie as you and Billy took your argument into the kitchen. He glanced up when M.M. groaned and lowered himself into the third chair at the table. Both Hughie and the Frenchman tossed their lost cash at M.M., who only grinned.

“Double or nothing that they fuck before we actually leave to get work done,” he said.

Frenchie waved his hand and leaned back in his chair, swearing violently in French before saying, “That’s a lost bet.”

“I think Butcher’ll be worn down and then we’ll go,” Hughie said with a shrug. He held out a hand to M.M., who took it with a chuckle.

Technically, they both won.

[dacreshoney]

chapter 2 things in common

chapter 2 of my new stranger things/billy Hargrove x reader series

summary: The new kid on the block billy Hargrove, the two baddest kids in Hawkins catch each other eyes, billy realises he might not want to just f**** and chuck Y/N and some serious tension between the two 

warnings: flirting/smut, swearing and actions some people may not agree with - mentions of abuse and drugs

Drink driving - do not do 

(I do not condone any behaviours)

read to find out more

(sorry to skip a few) a few weeks into the story - you and billy had started to get to know each other a little more, both of you didn't really want a relationship, well that's what you told yourselves anyway. You and Harrington had made up after your summer fling, you both decided you were better as friends after he had told you about him getting closer to one of the kids in your neighbourhood you babysat, dustin - demegorg story (will go into detail in a few chapters later) 

You and billy had made your way to some cliffs in Hawkins and made yourselves comfy in Billys camaro watching over the cliffs as the sun sets, you had been talking for hours and hours. The past few weeks billy has been your getaway when things got rough and him to you, with neither of you really going into detail about what, you just clicked together like a missing puzzle piece. 

after a few hours you set off back to your house and billy spoke:

“ I like you, first girl in this sh** hole that hasn't fell at my feet or will do or say anything to please me” billy uttered to you as he placed one arm over the chair behind your head. 

“that sure of yourself hey Hargrove?” you laughed as you pulled up outside your house and looked into his eyes, you noticed your dad had just arrived back to the house in his sheriffs car, you tried your best to avoid eye contact with him.  you hadn't gone into much detail about who your dad was or what he did, didn't want to scare the poor boy off. 

“dads the sheriff huh? best stay clear then” billy laughed as he removed his arm from the back of the chair. 

“the sh*****t one going, so you don't need to worry a pretty hair on your head”  I claimed 

Billy looked at you a little concerned to the tone of how you spoke about your dad and asked “not so keen on your old man I've gathered?” 

before you knew it, words just started to blurt out, you felt comfortable with billy and you had an inkling he would have a very similar response. 

“to be honest, he's not much of a great old man, really needs to search the word dad up in the dictionary” 

Billy looked a little confused at first, but could link two and two when it came to dysfunctional relationships and he spoke gently “you know, I know what you mean with the not so good on the daddy department, but you know Y/N if you ever need anything, my blue little Camaro is only a block away” 

You giggled at billy, he always knew what to say to make you drift out of those depressing episodes, you lent over and gave him a peck, your lips touching slightly, you both had craved just that little bit of touch for a few weeks, but you'd never want to admit it. You both just looked dat each other, taking it no further and you replied: 

“ thanks billy, you know I really do appreciate it, not so mr tough guy after all huh?” you smiled as you stepped out the car giving billy a quick wave as you headed towards your house. 

You entered your house to then be bombarded with questions and a drunk dad raising his hand to the right of your head, slamming the door shut, he shouted 

“ who the f**k was that you little sl*t” 

“ nn.. no.. no one dad” you said whimpering as you tried to move away, he pushed you against the door and held you by the throat and shouting again, spitting in your face; 

“don't you lie to me you wh**e, I saw you with that piece of trash from round the block, you know I've had one or two complaints from his house, I should of known you'd be involved with him, huh so what is it? hmm..” he pressed on to you, getting right into your face as you had tears coming to your eyes, you had officially had enough of the sh**, your dad continued to hound you “ ANSWER ME you cu*t”  he shouted one more time, breaking his glass bottle and catching your arm with it, trying to teach your a lesson, your neck has started to bruise a little from the pressure of his hands. Then that was it, it just released, you scream in which it pushed him back into the sofa, like a wave of Ange and power forcing him off you, and screamed “ I said, get the hell off me” .. 

you ran to your room, locking the for behind you, you went to your wardrobe , finding anything you could to put in a bag and on, you couldn't stay there any longer than you had to. You fixed yourself up, tried to hide the bruising and cuts but you were chugging down the vodka you had in your room so you really couldn't tell what the hell you was doing. you knew where you were heading and that was heathers party. 

||outfit choice below||

As much as you ached, you looked sexy and you knew it, you would of took the jacket off but then people would see the cuts and bruises. You jumped out your window and headed towards your car, where you couldn't even function the key fob you were that pissed. The engine started and let’s say, its a good job you were the sheriffs daughter because that driving was not road legal. 

You arrived at heathers, you jumped out your car which you attempted to park, in which you failed miserably. Making your way through the crowd, stumbling a little you spotted him, that's right, Billy Hargrove with his left arm raised and leaning right over Tammy’s head, most likely flirting. you locked eyes straight away and he could tell you were pissed at him, you rolled your eyes and stormed off to find Steve. Steve was leaning against the kitchen island and you slurred to him “hey babe, fancy pouring me a drink” as you lent your arm over his shoulders, Steve hesitant at first as he could tell you were drunk but then he gave in as you gave him your famous puppy dog eyes that no one could every day no to. You and billy liked to play games with each other, that was your thing, at least sober you could handle it or at least pretend to handle it, you played each other and tried to make the other jealous. It sure as hell had worked, you knew you were starting to fall for him, but you could never admit it to yourself. Both of you were so alike, but you would never admit that. 

‘ songs playing next are - rock you like a hurricane scorpions - no one like you by scorpions and running up that hill Kate bush’ 

Billy saw you dancing with Steve, so he then grabbed Tammy by the waist and started dancing with her, slightly grinding at her waist. He knew this would send you over the edge with him, but he just wanted you to come over and admit that to him. You were going to flip, until you knew exactly what to do to piss him off, there was one thing billy and you had done together and he knew how you were when you were on drugs, flirtatious, forward and completely let loose. you headed towards Tommy who you knew would be right near billy so he could overhear you.

“hey Tommy, you want to do a bag?” you stumbled towards Tommy, leaning against him with your hands on his shoulders. Tommy looked straight at billy, those two weren't on the greatest terms at the moment so he obliged with Y/N request. Tommy placed his c*ke onto his finger in which you sniffed in one, billy was furious and stormed over to the kitchen. The c*ke had hit and you were completely in a haze, now for phase two of pissing billy off, no care in the world you got up onto the pole stand in heathers living room, her mum did pole so everyone loved her for that. You started to dance seductively on the pole, more eyes heading your way as you started to tease and take off your jacket, not realising you still had the cuts and bruises. 

No one like you scorpions playing: 

There's no one like you I can't wait for the nights with you I imagine the things we'll do I just want to be loved by you

Billy’s POV:

you had had it, Y/N was up to her usual tricks tonight, you wish shed had just come up to you when she saw you with Tammy, if only she knew what you were talking about. No flirting involved, but typical Y/N jumping to conclusions yet again. 

.....

soon as Y/N asked Tommy for a bag you knew you had to watch her every move, only you two together had experienced that, the free emotions and movements you had with each other, the way you felt with each other, it was only meant for you two. Billy had turned to find Y/N dancing on the pole in the living room, his blood started to boil as he watched her start to tease he had to do something, he realised there was blood on her arm, he paced over straight away, dragging her outside before anyone else could see. This was his girl and no way in hell would he let anyone take advantage of her. 

Y/N POV: 

“I swear to god billy, get your f*c*ing hands off me” you screamed as billy dragged you by the arm to the outside porch. billy faced to turn you, his veins popping out his head when he gets angry and shouted 

“im not fu*c*ing letting go until you tell me what the f*ck you are playing at, first dancing with Harrington, then sniffing and don't get me started on the pole.. and lastly you wanna explain these cuts on your arm?” 

“why do you care hargrove huh? you basically were in Tammy hem brooks fu*c*ing pants early, go back and fu*k her, but thank you for noticing and pretending to care about my welfare” you hiccuped as you tried to walk down the porch. Billy chased after you and shouting right back 

“no I fuc*ing wasn't, if you actually had come up to me instead of playing easy with Steve, you'd of found I was turning her down because of you”

You harshly turned round to face him, without wanting to throw up with how fast you spun around and said “ don't you dare call me easy and two sorry to ruin your whoring, make sure you go apologise to Tammy for me, sorry I'm not one of these girls billy that jumps straight into your bed at the drop of a hat”

the screaming and shouting carried on for a few minutes, you ended up screaming right at billy, unknowingly letting loose of some of your powers again, some of the street lights shattered: you had made a larger crack in the gate to the upside down. Billy placed his hand on your throat in which he instantly regretted and you said “get your hands off me now billy, don't you ever touch me like that again I swear to god” billy shook at what he just witnessed and two the fact he had done something he never thought he would do and that was raise a hand to someone he loves. 

“you ever raise a hand to me like that again billy and you are dead to me, you got it” you moved your body away, your eyes tearing up. Tears streamed out of his eyes and anger hit when he restored his eyes back to the cuts and bruises,

“ who the fu*k did that to you Y/N?” he questioned with worry, billy had told you about his dad Neil and what he did to billy, you had never really let on about your dad because you tried to be there for him as much as possible without going into your own problems. 

“ not the only one with an abusive dad now are you billy” you sarcastically replied. Billy tried to ignore the sarcasm and instantly felt concerned and worried for Y/N safety. 

“I will kill him Y/N and the lights, what the f*ck happened there?” 

“don't pretend you care billy please, I don't need you lying to me, if all you was is to get me into bed then you can f*ck right off” I stormed off 

“ i’m not lying Y/N, ffs why don't you believe me?”  he chased after you 

“then why billy huh? why do you care?” you questioned laughing as you walked off

“because I fu*c*ing love you Y/N god dammit” and there it was, billy had finally let loose of his feelings for the first time in his life since his mother left. You both paused and looked each other in the eyes, the arguing had sobered you up a little and you realised what he had said. 

“I love you billy” 

You both jumped at each other passionately, leaping into one another arms and you touched lips, wrapping your legs around his waist, not leaning the kiss. You both had made your way to your car, rustling about to find your keys and open the door. You made yourselves comfy in the back seats, taking off each others clothes, all billy could could do was stare and admire your body, tracing his finger tips over the scars all the way down your belly. He then placed kissed from your breasts to the lining on your panties. You let out a moan in which sent shivers down billy’s spine at the thought of pleasing you. 

“you like that princess?” billy asked, kissing and licking your lining as he looked you straight in the eyes, all you could do was moan his name and plead for more

“yesss billy, uhh please”

“please what princess, huh? what do you want from me” billy muttered, his head between your thighs, placing kisses along the slit of your parts, gently edging his tongue to your clit.

“fu*k billy, fu*k me please” you pleaded with him, edging your head up to push him on the other side of the seat, placing yourself between his legs for a change, kissing his torso: training scratch marks down his belly with your fingernails, this man was yours and you were going to make sure he and everyone knew it. Billy was loving every second, you placed your mouth on the tip of his cock edging your tongue out and swirling it around the tip driving him wild. He grabbed your hair with his hand and tugged your head bag with dominance and said 

“don't play with me baby” billy smiled, biting his lip

“or what huh, what you going to do to me” I played on the words. After that billy pulled you up onto his lap, placing you on his bulge and pressing his body into yours ready in position. “

you sure you wanna do this baby? its not your first time is it?” billy asked, searching for a condom in his wallet, you placed your hands on his cheek and gave him a soft kiss and muttered 

“more than ready billy and no its not my first, does that bother you?” you asked, billy smiled and kissed your forehead and claimed 

“nothing you do would ever bother me, besides I like a woman with a little experience” 

you smiled at each other, then both ready he edge his tip slightly into your core, soaking wet you Mae his access a little easier with how tight you were around him. “f*ck Y/N, ride me baby, show me I'm yours” billy moaned into your ear, every motion edging him further. You continued to ride him, picking up your pace, getting a little rough you made scratches on his chest and placed your hand on his throat, choking him a little as you neared your peak. Billy gave you a smirk as you choked him as he grabbed your ass and clenched it as he starting pumping his cum into you. both reaching your climax you both panted into each others necks slowly releasing from each other. 

“ I meant what I said you know” billy spoke softly, holding your chin upwards to face him, “I love you Y/N Johnson”

you gave him a kiss in which you replied “and I love you billy hargrove” 

[pinkykitten]

Hairspray pt. 1

Stranger Things

Billy Hargrove x plus size! female reader

Warning: curse words, body-shaming, things get a lil steamy at the end

Specifics: comedy, angst, fluff, romance, chapter fic, race neutral reader, plus size reader, chubby reader, pictures

People: billy hargrove, nancy wheeler, jonathan byers, heather, your dad, your mother, amber (bully, oc) 

Words: 4,089

Summary: Based on Bell’s 2.5k Challenge, @acciosnapes. Being rich was tough. Your parents expected so much out of you; they expected you to be perfect. Owning practically all of Hawkins, Indiana; they perceived themselves to be above everyone else. Having that thinking made you alone, as you were not allowed to hang out with people beneath you. 4th of July of 1985 holds the fair for Independence day. You had feelings for a certain bad boy and if luck comes your way you may tell him the truth and who knows maybe he’ll even ask you to the fair. During those moments though, you will have to endure top secret evil science labs and experiments. You will uncover Hawkins secrets, make friends and who knows maybe break a couple of rules.

Authors Note: y/f/n = your father’s name

y/m/n = your mother’s name

this is the first part of the chapter fics hairpsray. this is for a challenge and i love this so much. i love writing confident plus size characters and readers. the aesthetic was made by me and the beginning to the end of this fic i got inspired by hairpsray 2007 by the start of the movie all the way to miss baltimore crabs number. i put an amber in here like the movie and some quotes and dialogue is taken from the movie hairspray, lets see if u guys can figure it out. anywho i love this hope u love it and im so happy i did this challenge there will be more so check out for this series and im excited to show u guys. yay! 

The summer of 1985. It was hot and sticky outside. The cicadas singing as they made their way near you home. You were excited. You were going to, no matter who tried to stop you, get a job.

It very well likely might not have made sense to anyone. You were rich. Grew up with a golden spoon in your mouth. You never knew life to be hard. Every little thing was given to you, whether it be toys, dresses, makeup, you had it all. At least thats what your parents thought. Your father was basically equal with the Mayor. The two helped each other out with smart work and of course the dirty work. Y/f/n thought you didn’t know but you sniffed out the clues and put them together. You knew your father was no innocent man. He played his cards right to get this money, not earn it. And y/m/n, just followed your father around like a lost puppy. You could see the kindness in her sometimes but she always listened to your father. 

What your parents didn’t know was you were searching for something more important. Something that meant a whole lot to you. Money didn’t matter. You didn’t want that life. You wanted to be independent and be able to make mistakes and live life. Your parents always disciplined you on peers. You were not allowed to be with low lives; people who weren't as successful as your family. But all the friends your parents wanted you to love were snobs and thought so highly of themselves. You wanted to get away from that life. Your whole life was planned out for you. You are forever and always this pretty, perfect sweet girl who follows rules even though sometimes you didn’t feel those things. 

You woke up to the sun beating down on your face. You rolled around on your pastel pink king sized bed. Groaning, as you subconsciously hit your alarm clock but noticing you were awoken before its ring. 

“Hmm, thats never happened before.”

You stretch as you jump out of bed to start your first day of work. You would never tell your parents. They would never understand and probably make excuses to stop you. You were going to try to get hired at Hawkins Community Pool. It was a risky decision based on your size. You were plus sized and adored it! You felt on top of the world most times and never cared what anyone thought. But there were times where you did get down from comments but you still pushed ahead and loved yourself. You were willing to give the lifeguard gig a chance and there was a plus side. Your crush Billy Hargrove was there. You just hoped you could entice him enough to give you a go. 

You scrambled to your feet as you raced to your phone. You dialed your best friend Nancy’s number. You had to keep the relationship a secret. If your parents knew about your friendship they probably would flip. You knew about all the secrets of the kids and Hawkins lab. Nancy felt guilty not telling you so she spilled the beans about everything to you. About Eleven, the monsters, scientists. It sounded unreal but you knew Nancy would never lie to you. 

“Hey Nance, are we still on for the mall today?” You asked, twirling the cable with your fingers. 

On the other side you could hear Nancy struggling, “yep we’re still on. Sorry I’m running late to my first day of work.”

“Oh yeah its today. What are you gonna be doing again?”

Nancy made a yelp as the phone was muffled, “sorry I just slipped putting on my dress.” Just as Nancy said that you could hear Jonathan’s voice in the background. 

“No way!” You squealed. “Did you sleep with Jonathan?”

Nancy giggled, “...sorta...kinda...yeah.”

“You naughty girl!”

“Whatever!”

“Tell him I said hi,” you said.

“Oh my god y/n, you’re unbelievable but I gotta go now.”

“Wait? Are you still coming with me to get my bathing suit?”

“Like I would miss this. Y/n’s first job and pretty much your first time being a independent young lady. Y/n, we’re definitely going to celebrate!” She hanged up the phone and you got dressed for the day. 

You went to the living room and turned on the tv. “Good morning Hawkins, Indiana.” The news man and lady said as they raised their morning cup of coffee to the viewers. 

You skipped around the kitchen finding something to eat. Humming a tune you couldn’t get out of your head as it was a song you made up. 

“I love you Hawkins, and someday when I take to the world, the worlds gonna wake up see. Hawkins and me,” you sang as you were stopped by your father. 

“Why are you so jumpy this morning?” He wore a scowl on his face. 

You shrugged, “nothing in particular dad.” You kissed him on the cheek. Your mother walked in swatting your hand as you were about to make breakfast for yourself. 

“The maids can get it honey,” she said as the maid ran in and got started in cooking you your favorite. 

You rolled your eyes as you got your bag, “you know I think I’ll just eat on the road. I’ll pick up something on the side.”

“Honey, make sure its nothing greasy,” your mother said. “You have to try to back away from foods, remember.”

“You remind me everyday mother.” Your parents always pointed out the fact that you were bigger than most girls your age. They always tried to put you on diets and workouts but nothing worked. It didn’t work because you didn’t want it to work. You were totally fine with your body and wish they could see what you saw. 

Finishing the rest of your corn dog from the food court you awaited on Nancy by the store. Checking your time you knew Nancy was supposed to be here.  

“C’mon Nance, where are you?”

Finally she showed up from around the corner. Her hair all disheveled. It looks as if she was rushed. 

“Hey there best friend...you okay?” You asked, hugging her as she came up. 

She waved your question off. “It can wait. So what are you thinking of getting? Whats your vision?”

“Well,” you said as you entered into the tiny shop. Women of all sizes were there but you can see the look of disappointment on many of the bigger girls faces. There was barely anything there for them. You looked through the clearance for “Big Girls” it read on the sign. “since I have to make a good impression, I’m going to wear something sexy but also professional. I don’t want to look like no stripper.”

Nancy chuckled, “right. Also isn’t this swimsuit for only this time cause you have to wear their red one while you work there.”

“Correct. Like I said though I want them to see I am trying and I am not going to half-as* it.”

“How bout this one?” Nancy said as she brought out a blue one. It had sequins on it; very beautiful. But it was too sexual. The breast area was very much wide and open. The back showed too much butt. “What do you think about this?”

“Don’t get me wrong its super pretty but like I said; I need to look professional. Plus there’s gonna be kids there.”

“I gotcha. Sorry I maybe just want everyone to pass out when they see my friend.”

“Oh I bet everyone will, even if I don’t wear anything sexual. They’re probably gonna be like agghhh an earthquake when they see me walking in and I’ll respond like, you bet b*tch.”

Nancy laughed. 

“How bout this one?” You pulled out a Hawaiian one. It was pretty but more for old ladies and it was boring. 

“Okay yeah sure...for my nana!”

“Well how do you know me and your nana don’t have the same taste?”

“Look you need something more than that. Like you said, making a statement.”

You bit your lip, “man this harder than I thought. I’m kind scared to be honest about doing this. Like I think the last time I ever got this scared was when they announced the new coke.”

Nancy tried her hardest to hold back a giggle, “why are you scared?”

“Picture this, what if a stranger hands me a blunt and you know I’m curious by nature and I accept it? What in the world will Billy think? He’ll probably think I’m like a druggie 24/7!”

“First off, that is the oddest situation I’ve ever heard of. Second, is this your weird way of saying what if Billy doesn’t like you?”

“No I know he’ll like me sexually but I mean platonically. What if he doesn’t want to be like a normal couple and hang out? What if he’s ashamed to be with me? These are good questions.”

Nancy held your hand, “than he’s the jerk I always thought him to be and you’re too good for him.”

You nodded, “I mean I’m too good for him now but in that moment, if he’s a d*ck then I will be 10 times better than him. So any ways...how was work?”

Nancy rolled her eyes and looks down, “I kinda don’t want to talk about it.”

“What? What happened? Am I gonna have to slap a b*tch?” You became territorial and overprotective of your friend.

“No, no, no its just, the men at work sorta treat me like I’m dumb and that I’m not really of use to this type of work. I guess cause they see me as a woman they think they can take advantage of me. They make fun of myey/n. In front of everyone. Its bull sh*t.” Nancy almost looked as if she wanted to cry.

“Hey its okay. This is your first day. People are going to be jack as*es but you listen to me. Whenever any one has talked about me differently or made fun of me because of my weight or whatever I either laugh with them, ignore them, or say something smart back to them. There are ways that we women can stand up for ourselves without having to insult or hurt someone physically.”

“Its just easier said than done. But I’ve got a lead. A lady called me today about diseased rats. I think that maybe this is my chance to be a journalist like I’ve always wanted to be.”

You clapped her on the back, “atta girl. You take that chance. You take it right in your hand and never let it go. No matter what they tell, or do to you; you have the right, the power. Use it Nancy. Use your voice.”

Nancy smiled and picked out an orange swimsuit. You didn’t care if people called you an actual orange; all you saw was perfection. 

“How bout this one y/n?”

“Thats the one Nancy. Its perfect!”

“Hey pancake y/n and Nancy drew,” Amber, your arch nemesis. The bully, the b*tch of the town walked up to you two. Her high heels clicked as they met with the floor. Her skirt was so short you could almost see her goodies from up high. Her makeup was too overdone and her blonde hair was as perfect as Tom Cruise’s abs. She snickered as she saw you hold up your swimsuit to pay. “And you’re gonna wear that? Where are you going? To the Hawkins pool?”

“Yes as a matter of fact I am. Thanks for you looking out for me...Amber.” You said as you walked right by her; nudging her lightly. “Now I don’t wanna get there late so if you excuse me-”

“Oh sorry, too skinny of a space?”

“Amber-” Nancy started but you waved a hand out to her. 

“No its okay Nance. She’s right, it was too skinny for my delicious body.” You shrugged. 

Amber motioned closer to you. Her foot stepping on yours. “Are you going to the pool to see Billy?”

You almost forgot. Rumor had it that Amber was going to try all Summer to get with Billy but so far you heard he was single and you sure as he*l were not going to miss the opportunity. 

“Well I mean I will see him whether I want to or not. He kind works there.”

“I’m not talking about that fat-a*s. I’m saying are you doing all this. Wanting to work there just because he’s there?”

“Wow Amber! I didn’t realize you were my mother. Congratulations! Now shall I tell you about all my business?”

Amber snarled, “I swear to God if you try anything with Billy I will hunt you down. If you think for a moment that he would ever like someone like you? You are completely and utterly stupid. Know your place and be careful... you might stop traffic in that.” Amber chuckled as she walked away. Her butt swaying as she tried to show you she was better than you.

“Yeah well I have a better a*s than you!”

Nancy shook her head as she led you to the register, “C’mon y/n, lets just go.” 

Did that little interaction ever stop you? 

Never! You still went with your plan. Get this job in order to get your Billy. It was plain and simple. And also to prove to yourself and your parents that you can do things on your own and you didn’t need anyone. 

Nancy dropped you off. You got changed in the bathroom and knew it just turned into Billy’s shift. You met with the other kids at the front desk. As they saw you they laughed. “Well, well, well if it isn’t y/n l/n, the rich girl. What can we do you for?”

As you were about to speak one of the boys put his hand up, “I’m sorry but we don’t have any gold bars here at the moment. Maybe you’ll have to ask the President of the United States.”

You glared at the boy and were silent. The boy thought he broke you and you acted very suspicious. Suddenly you laughed, “yeah well maybe I’ll go ask your dad since he seems to pay me every time I’m with him.” You of course knew it wasn’t true. You had never even slept with anyone before heck with his dad. It was all for games. 

The others hollered out loudly at your come back and the boy stood back flushed. 

“Now I want to work here and I think I deserve a resume. I see your sign that you are hiring so what do I have to do here folks?” You clapped your hands. 

A girl named Heather walked by and heard your conversation. “Y/n, right?”

“Thats me.” You shook her hand. 

“Awesome, yeah I remember your call. You wanted a job here?”

“Correct again.”

“Well around here we do things differently. In order to get the job we need to see your walk.”

“My what?”

“Your walk.” The other teens tried to stifle their laughter. “Thats the most important step. We need to see how you walk in order to get to your post.”

“Oh okay for a minute I thought you wanted me to walk on water or something.”

Heather rolled her eyes. “No. I need to see how you do and then we can talk and I can give you a resume.”

“Wait. You’re the one who conducts the interviews around here and stuff like that?”

Heather nodded. Lying.

“Cool so when do I start the walk?”

“Now!” Heather pushed you into the open. 

“Oh okay,” you were shy at first but then conducted yourself. The sun shone on your skin deliciously making your skin glow. You looked at your surroundings. A lot of kids. A chubby kid running, which you knew was a no-no. The other side, near Billy was, “Mrs. Wheeler? What in the world is she doing looking at Billy like that?” You felt anger erupt within you. Yes, you were a little jealous. Even though their relationship was extremely wrong you still felt jealous. You proceeded to walk. Not caring if anything budged out, jiggled, nothing. You felt sexy, beautiful and that’s all that mattered. 

You shook your hips as you walked up to the chair. You had talked to Billy before but never a full out conversation. It was little ones. Billy stood right by the chair, talking to Mrs. Wheeler. As you showed up Billy looked at you straight in the eye. You bit your lip winking at him. Billy then looked all over you, raising his brow. He licked his lips. 

“Hi y/n,” he said all suave; putting his hand out to stop Mrs. Wheeler’s conversation, interrupting her. 

“Hi Billy, hello Mrs. Wheeler.”

Mrs. Wheeler seemed angry so she sat back down in the sun. 

“Well, well, well, what are you doing here?” Billy asked as he leaned against the lifeguard chair. 

“Well I heard y’all were hiring. I saw in the newspaper that they’re making another lifeguard here, coinciding with the first one of course. Heard it gets hectic around here.”

Billy chewed on a toothpick as he came closer to you, smirking. His eyes seeming almost a sea green when it hit the sun. “Yeah it sure does get hectic around here, but I think with you around; things will get more hectic. Trust me.”

“Will it be by your doing?” You got closer as well. Playing his games.

“I don’t know, might be.”

“Got any more bigger girls like me around here?”

“No just the one and only you.”

“Oh so you were looking?” You didn’t mind that he called you bigger or when someone called you fat. It was the truth and you learned to love those words. 

“Is that a bad thing?” Billy asked as his eyes scanned all over you once more. His eyes became lustful. 

“No, I mean you might as well learn what a real woman looks like. I guess I’ll be making history around here. Y/n l/n, the first lifeguard that is really and surely a-”

“Whole lotta woman,” Billy said as his voice came out raspy and more of a moan. 

Your knees were becoming weak. “Thats right.”

“Alright miss making history. Why do you want this job? Aren’t your parents rich? Doesn’t your dad work with the mayor?”

“Yep but I feel as a young lady, I need to learn and live.”

“Don’t worry you’ll learn all those things here; I’ll make sure I’ll teach you.” Billy said as he touched your arm, sending electricity coursing through your veins. 

“So Billy Hargrove will be my lifeguard teacher, huh? Not bad. But...will you ever need to punish me?”

Billy looked shocked as you said that and laughed. He inched closer to you until his plump lips landed on your ear, “only when you’re being a bad girl.”

It took everything out of you not to moan right there. You coughed as you tried to act natural again. Billy got you good. 

“Bashful much?”

“More like turned on,” you muttered not knowing Billy heard as he smiled wide. You turned around and walked straight back to Heather. Your a*s shaking a lot as you walked back making Billy almost have a heart attack. There was no way he was going to go through summer without you. 

“So how’d I do?” You questioned Heather. Excited to hear the news. 

“Well...it was okay.”

“Okay?”

“You weren’t supposed to talk to anyone yet.”

“Um, its a community pool. Everyone's talking.” You said. 

“No we mean when you were talking to Billy. You see a lot of the girls here like him. And we can’t have you jeopardizing their chances and scaring Billy if you know what I mean.” Heather said as she winced. 

Billy had wanted to hear the news about you working here and stood nearby; hearing the whole conversation. 

Your eyes widened, “no I’m sorry I don’t know what you mean?”

“Its just with your rich parents and well your weight for another thing we feel as its just too much...stuff for this job requirement.”

“So you’re basically saying I’m too fat and rich for a small summer job?”

Heather tried not to laugh as the other kids in the office did. You rolled your eyes. “And all this walk and stuff, that was fake too I suppose.”

Heather couldn’t control herself. She bursted out laughing. “You’re totally right! And you fell for it!”

You tried your hardest not to let them get to you. Not to cry. But it was difficult. They embarrassed you, hurt your feelings, rejected you because of your weight and life. You felt like you could get nowhere with them. 

You smiled, “thank you for your time guys.”

“Whatever!” Heather waved you off. 

Billy on the other hand was furious. He knew what it mean to be treated differently and to be hurt. He wanted to stand up for you but he was scared he would lose his job. 

You walked away and Billy walked up to Heather. “Hey, why do you have to be so cruel?”

“Says the guy who literally bullys everyone. What makes y/n any different?”

“Maybe its because she’s not a b*tch. Like some people are.” Billy walked away to get back to work but he could not for the life of him stop thinking about you. You clouded his brain all day. 

You walked home. Thinking about all that was said to you today. You had high hopes of getting the job but now you didn’t know where to go. Crashing onto your bed you cried onto your pillow. Your mother was out shopping with a group of her rich friends and your father was helping the Mayor out with the 4th of July fair. They didn’t care how you felt that day. When someone hurt you. They only cared about themselves. 

Your phone rang and it was Nancy. You sniffled your tears, wiping your face, “hello Nance. Whats up?”

“Hey y/n oh my god you’re not going to believe it! I got a lead on the rats! Me and Jonathan went to go check it out at Mrs. Driscoll. She showed us her basement and all the fertilizer bags had holes in them from the rats. She said that maybe they had rabies and wanted us to notify the public but y/n when I got a good look at these rats it was not like the norm.”

“What do you mean?” You sat up.

“What I mean is that these rats were like having a convulsion. They were acting really strange. Like crazy, I’m gonna investigate more tomorrow and then maybe just maybe the guys at my work will actually take me seriously.”

“You show them! But be careful okay, I don’t want you or Jonathan to loose your jobs. Pursue this story your way.”

“Thanks. Hey what about you? How did things go for your lifeguard summer adventure? And what about Billy? Oh my god did he see you that? He probably had such a big boner-”

“Nancy!” You started to cry again. “I didn’t get the job.”

“What the h*ll do you mean? Do I have to smack a b*tch?”

You chuckled lightly, “no its nothing like that or what I mean is theres nothing you can do. I went in and they pranked me and called me names and pretty much made fun of me saying that I couldn’t work there because I was rich and fat.”

“So? Who the h*ll cares? Jesus, I hate people.”

“Me too, but never you.” You sighed. 

“You know what you do?”

“What Nancy? I tried everything-”

“You try again! Go tomorrow and wear their attire their red swimsuits and show them that you are not playing around. Make them see that you are the woman for the job. You are an amazing person y/n, show them and show Billy.”

You wiped your tears away and got the boost you needed. “You’re right Nance, thanks. I’m gonna keep trying until I have done all that I can.”

“Yeah and if not there is a new mall that you could work at and really anywhere. People would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks Nancy. You always know how to make me feel better.” You hanged up the phone and got a good nights rest for the next day where you would try your hardest to achieve something you so badly wanted. 

Tag list: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @dirbel, @eastcoasthaven, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @idontknowwhattocallthisworld (wont let me tag)

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

also if you wanna be tagged in the series hairspray, comment :)

[auntynationalsblog]

Fargo: Top 10 Characters

Television shows like Breaking Bad, The Sopranos and The Wire are definitely three of the greatest in the genre of non-fantasy dramas, thrillers, and crime fiction. If you love those three shows, but you are unfamiliar with Fargo, stop whatever you are doing, and watch it now. Right now. Thank me later. 

One of the reasons why Fargo is a work of genius is the intensity and depth of its characters. These characters, in my opinion, have earned the right to be categorized alongside Walter White, Tony Soprano, Omar Little and Don Draper, as some of the legendary TV characters of all time. This blog takes a look at eleven of the most astonishing characters Fargo has provided to the world of television. 

Beware of spoilers, obviously. 

Consolation Prize: Lester Nygaard (Season 1)

“Old Lester, now, he would've just let it slide. But not this guy.”

Played by Martin Freeman, or better known as Dr. John Watson from the twenty-first-century version of Sherlock Holmes, Lester Nygaard is a loser. Like all losers, we tend to feel bad for him, until his personality develops in a way which makes us abandon our pity for him. Pity is replaced by disgust, and sadness is replaced by anger. Lester’s transformation from a good-for-nothing non-achiever to a devious and heartless criminal and fugitive is definitely one of the most subtle character developments I’ve seen on TV. His role is often overshadowed by two other characters from the same season. Very important character nonetheless, brilliantly portrayed by Freeman.  

10. Wes Wrench/Mr. Wrench (Season 1, Season 3)

“ “

Played by the deaf, yet brilliant actor - Russel Harvard - Mr. Wrench also can’t hear. What can do is kill. He is an assassin, and he is loyal and lethal. He appears in the first season as one-half of the committed team of Mr. Wrench and Mr. Numbers (Grady Numbers). Wrench’s childish attitude is quick to win the hearts of the audience, while his kill skills and will-power earn him a spot on this list. After losing his partner (Mr. Numbers) in a gunfight, he is spared by his partner’s killer because the killer was himself impressed by Wrench’s skills and character. He reappears in season three as an invaluable accomplice to another character on this list, a role which makes us love him even more. 

9.  Molly Solverson (Season 1)

“Got to love a man who keeps his word, right?“

Played by Allison Tolman, Molly is the walking-definition of a young and hungry-for-justice police officer. A daughter to a police officer and a granddaughter to a sheriff, Molly is the character that makes us nurture the hope that there is hope for goodness and justice. After losing her murdered chief early on in the show, who is replaced by an incompetent one, Molly takes up the challenge of solving her chief’s murder all by herself, and she quickly finds herself trapped in a world of assassins and conspiracies. But despite being shot and hospitalized, she just does not give in, acting as the top cop that she isn’t. The character even earned Tolman the Emmy and Golden Globe nominations. 

8. V.M. Varga (Season 3)

“The past is unpredictable.”

Played by David Thewlis, or as we know him - Professor Remus ‘Mooney’ Lupin - from the Harry Potter world, Varga is sick, and in all likelihood he will make you sick to the stomach. Sadistic and ruthless, with a portrait of Joseph Stalin on his desk, Varga uses a businessman hitherto leading a happy and normal life to further his money laundering scheme. Intimidation and disposal seem to be his key tactics to success, apparent when he makes the businessman’s subordinate drink his own urine as a punishment for acting suspiciously. With the worst teeth on the show, and probably suffering from bulimia, Thewlis’ villainous role does not allow us to take even a one minute break between episodes.    

7. Floyd Gerhardt (Season 2)

“Three times, I sent men to do a job. Three times, they come back unfinished. I'll handle this myself.”

Played by Jean Smart, Floyd Gerhardt inherited one of the most difficult jobs in the world. After her husband Otto, the head of the Gerhardt crime syndicate, suffers a stroke and is unable to lead the mafia any longer, Floyd takes over all the guns and the money. Her eldest boy, Dodd, is unwilling to accept a woman, who is also old, as the new mafia don. However, throughout the season, Floyd shows us who’s boss as she uses an iron hand to deal with a rival gang from Kansas City and to investigate the homicide of her youngest son. One of the characteristics of Floyd which makes us like her so much is her love and concern for her granddaughter, who is mostly abused and humiliated by her father Dodd. The characters in season 2 are the strongest, but without Floyd, none of the other characters would be as appealing as they are. 

6. Gloria Burgle (Season 3)

“There’s violence to knowing the world isn't what you thought.”

Played by Carrie Coon, Gloria is the older version of Molly Solverson. After finding her stepdad murdered via asphyxiation, Gloria’s investigation leads to bizarre outcomes that find her entwined in something very big and very dangerous. A recently divorced woman, whose position of Chief also got taken away, her new Chief is simply intolerable, who demands of her to let go of the investigation. But like Molly, she just doesn’t give up, and her relentless pursuit constitutes the heart of the third season. Gloria is an example of how some police officers simply cannot be intimidated or corrupted into submission. The final scene of Fargo is a conversation between Varga and Gloria, and arguably, that tense scene is one of the best dialogue exchanges in the series. A true superhero. 

5. Lou Solverson (Season 2)

“Am I the only one here who’s clear on the concept of law enforcement?”

A loving father, a caring husband and the hotshot cop of town, Lou Solverson, played by Patrick Wilson, is your Marvel/DC superhero. Lou actually made his first appearance in the first season, as Molly’s father - former cop currently running a diner. In the second season, we are given a glimpse of Lou’s glory days as he single-handedly takes on both the Gerhardt Family and the Kansas City Mafia. Two things to note about Lou’s character - fearlessness and morality. Lou just does not submit to intimidation, as is seen in his confrontations with Mike Milligan on one occasion and with the Gerhardt Family on another. On the latter aspect, Lou is forced to take in his long-time friend Ed Blumquist on charges of murder, but the element of friendship does not deter Lou to do what he knows is his duty and is morally right. 

4. Mike Milligan (Season 2)

“If the goal is to kill those who oppress you, what does it matter who goes first?”

Played by Bokeem Woodbine, Mike Milligan is the epitome of suave. A well-read man, who often uses poetic quotes out of nowhere to dramatize his point, Mike is an assassin working for the Kansas City Mafia, and is in charge of ripping the Gerhardt Family apart. Arguably the most cunning and nefarious character of the second season, what sets Mike apart from other villains is the unbelievable aura of calm he brings to a seemingly tense situation. Varga does that too, but Mike does it better. Intelligence is his most lethal weapon, as his loyal henchmen, known as The Kitchen Brothers, carry out most of the bloodshed for him. At the end, although Mike meets a fate worse than death, most of us would die to be him during a gang-war.  

3. Lorne Malvo (Season 1)

“There are no saints in the animal kingdom. Only breakfast and dinner.”

Played by the former husband of Angelina Jolie, Billy Bob Thornton’s portrayal of Lorne Malvo goes down as the greatest villainous role in Fargo. Malvo, in simple words, is pure evil. He does not care. He is a predator, with an ideology best put as, “kill or be killed”.  He begins an unusual friendship with the Lester Nygaard, whose character is antithetical to that of Malvo. He even saves Lester from arrest and gradually, through his venomous words, turns him from an innocent loser into a evil loser. Eventually, Lester tries to show him who’s boss, realizing he couldn’t have made a worse choice about who to fuck around with. The personification of evil that is Malvo, can be categorized with characters such an Anton Chigurh, the Joker and Hans Gruber (who has an unusual physical resemblance with Malvo) on the list of the greatest villains of all time. 

2. Ohanzee “Hanzee” Dent (Season 2)

“ “Send the Indian,” they'd say. “Who cares about booby traps? Give Hanzee a flashlight and a knife and send him down into the black echo.” ” 

Played by Zahn McClarnon, Hanzee Dent is not an evil guy. He is a bad man, sure. But he is not EVIL. He is not a villain. Society alienated him, treated him like a mongrel and made him a ticking time-bomb only seconds away from the boom. A native-american assassin recruited by Otto Gerhardt from a very young age, Hanzee appears to be a loyal hit-man for the Gerhardt Family, until he loses his shit. An unstoppable force and a ruthless killer with a history of military service (Vietnam), Hanzee has an agenda of his own. His killing spree is triggered by a sign outside a pub boasting about murders of 22 Sioux Indians who were hung there, with a puddle of dried vomit beneath it. Arguably the most complicated character of the show, with an intense development of personality, Hanzee Dent is the only character in the show who is a lethal assassin but makes us pity him and root for him. 

One Last Consolation Prize: Peggy Blumquist (Season 2)

“I just wanted to be someone.” 

Played by Kirsten Dunst, or Mary Jane from the Tobey Maguire Spiderman series, Peggy Blumquist is the source of all the drama. After she accidentally runs over the youngest Gerhardt son, Rye Gerhardt, her husband, Ed Blumquist (another brilliant character) becomes number one on the Gerhardt Family’s blacklist, and acquires the nickname - The Butcher of Luverne. Peggy should not be perceived as stupid or a trouble-maker. Throughout the show, she feels what many of us also feel, that we are not living up to our potential. Her interests conflict with her husband’s interests, but eventually she does everything in her capacity to clean up the mess that she (unintentionally) created, and to save her husband from the cops and the mafia. Her portrayal by Dunst was vastly appreciated by critics and fans alike, but in a show comprising of so many awesome characters, it was impossible for me to include Peggy in my top ten.  

1. Nikki Swango (Season 3)

“You've made me the happiest woman ever. Now, let's make a sex tape.”

In Fargo, we have super-heroes, heroes, villains and super-villains, and we have Nikki Swango, portrayed by Mary Elizabeth Winstead. Right from the moment we saw her eliminate a threat to her grand plan with the help an air-conditioner, Nikki provided Fargo with the most unique ‘unique character’. A genius who utilizes her intellect in a professional game of cards (Bridge), she may be, at first, perceived as selfish and shallow. But towards the end, it is evident that she actually did love her fiance Ray Stussy, and wasn’t just using him for her personal ambitions. It is hard to put a hero/villain label on her because she embodies the key characteristics of both roles - empathy, willpower, deviousness, ruthlessness and a thick skin. Her partnership with Mr. Wrench, her plan to execute the entire squad led by Varga AND extort two million dollars from him has to be one of the most memorable moments of the series. Not to forget how she, along with Wrench, hijacked the truck carrying all the documents needed by the IRS to prosecute Varga. Simply put, Nikki Swango is the badass of the show. 

So that’s my list. I won’t ask you to like or comment on my blog (some feedback would be appreciated though). All I want from the world of Netflix, is that this TV show receives the viewership and appreciation that it deserves, which it hasn’t gotten yet. 

[scarlettsabetlondongirl]

Poet Scarlett Sabet

In conversation with poet Gerard Malanga for London Magazine.

The London Magazine is England’s oldest literary periodical, with a history stretching back to 1732. Today – reinvigorated for a new century – the Magazine’s essence remains unchanged: it is a home for the best writing and an indispensable feature on the British literary landscape-London Magazine  

See here

“After meeting at a French New Wave Cinema book launch in London in November 2019, poets Gerard Malanga and Scarlett Sabet have since kept in regular correspondence via email.

In this unique interview, conducted over several weeks while thousands of miles apart, the two writers discuss shared influences, the recent passing of the Beat Generation poet Michael McClure, and the grounding influence of poetry throughout the international lockdown. 

This interview is based on the poets’ original email correspondence and has been edited for clarity.”-London Magazine   

GERARD MALANGA: You ask how my week has been? I’ve been in lockdown now for 3 weeks or so, though I might’ve lost count. I have plenty to keep me busy in the house here, plus I have responsibility towards my 3 cats. And then there’s dreamtime, between 4 & 6 in the morning.

But suddenly I felt days back this ennui coming on, like, did the poetry suddenly disappear? Sometimes I’m concerned—but just for a moment mind you—whether I can match or even better the last one? There’s no way I can predict when the muse will appear. If I had the answer, it would vanquish the mystique.

Since I’ve been in lockdown, there’s no going out for me for the morning coffee and The New York Times unfolding on the table. Many a first draft has begun that way, but now with a physical displacement of sorts I can’t claim to be an habitue of the cafe life. The kitchen table serves me well – or wherever I happen to be outdoors – so long as I have a small notebook in my pocket. I even prop myself up in bed with a clipboard pressed against my knees. I follow where I feel a poem coming on. When I start, then I know I’m in for it, but don’t give it the slightest thought. I’m in for the ride.

SCARLETT SABET: Yes, I find sometimes walking in the morning, having a destination, getting into my body and moving get’s the ball rolling with writing. I can understand the ritual of going to a cafe. I’ve written on trains a lot, the motion and rhythm helps, and because I’m in a vacuum in transit I can’t be reached.

I love the image of your 4am dream writing, I think that’s a great ritual. Sometimes I write three pages first thing in the morning, and it’s just anything on my mind. I’ve also found meditation helpful, deepening my state of consciousness and then writing straight afterwards to see what comes out, kind of like automatic writing in the spirit of Austin Osman Spare.

We were both raised Catholic, I wonder if that has had any bearing on your writing or practices? I find a great sense of divinity in art, those moments of inspiration.

GERARD MALANGA: Funny that you would mention that. No one’s ever asked me about my spirituality, that I recall. People have weird notions about me, like I’m some kind of guy about town. I may have a little bit of that too. But spirituality for me is to be able to laugh at yourself. Even when I talk to my cats, I’m laughing at myself. I don’t mean physically laughing as such but going about life without being self-conscious. It helps when I’m writing a poem.

Back in 1970 or so, I had a spiritual conversion. One of my closest friends, a guy named Jim Jacobs, turned me on to the first two Carlos Castaneda/Don Juan books; so we were basically comparing notes and one of the themes that came through for us was to follow your nature to be happy. Suddenly we found ourselves wearing white clothing and calling ourselves the white lights. When we went to London we ended up buying an all-white 1939 Bentley convertible with one windshield wiper not wiping, and it basically gave us the freedom to go visit friends in the English countryside. It sounds hysterically funny when I look back at this, but we were quite sincere in our endeavors. If this was going to be our path we had to be true to the discoveries we made along the way.

During our travels we decided to split off and agreed to re-connect a couple of years later in the Massachusetts Berkshires where he’s from and continue where we left off. Jim ended up being one of the top dealers in the secondary art market handling the likes of Judd and Cy Twombly, and now he’s curating shows. I continued to write poetry without a care in the world and became more attuned to the pictures I was taking. I truly feel I’ve become a better photographer because of the experiences I had. You have to be courageous to suddenly drop out and then drop back in.

Back in ’74, I had this idea for a book of my spiritual poetry that would have as its cover one of those kitschy paintings of Jesus. I called it ‘Poems for the Fat Lady’. You know, the Fat Lady was a phrase I’d picked up from reading Salinger’s Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters, where he’s actually equating Jesus with the Fat Lady, that they were one. That’s pretty neat, I thought. It didn’t go over too well with my publisher who rejected the idea outright. He thought I was joking. So I settled for a kind of even-balanced title, Incarnations,’ and changed the poems around.

Perhaps, the Fat Lady was the closest I ever got to God, though I don’t give it much thought these days. It’s the inspiration and the love that come from it which is the driving force and source for much of what I’m writing nowadays, and that’s the joy when I finally finish a poem. A state of happiness sets in for me.

SCARLETT SABET: And what you said makes sense, I can understand it. Did you have a period where you rebelled against spirituality or Catholicism and were, say, atheist? Although it’s bizarre for me to admit it, once I left school I did swing to atheism, I guess as a way of rebelling or a reaction. School can be dogmatic.

GERARD MALANGA: In hindsight, to embrace atheism, Scarlett, would deny the spirituality within me which accounts for a lot of my poetry as well. There was no real rebellion on my part. I always felt that my guardian angel was looking after me when I was fated to become a poet. Who would I be, otherwise? It’s a scary proposition, come to think of it.

SCARLETT SABET: True, looking back I realise I’ve always had a Guardian Angel too. I’m so sorry for the loss of [influential Beat poet] Michael McClure, and I was moved by the picture you took of him in San Francisco, 1972. What was that day like?

GERARD MALANGA: If I live long enough, God willing, I may end up not knowing anyone because at this juncture a lot of my friends have already passed. Many of them in the obituary series of my most recent book Cool, which you have. I don’t want to slip into a consciousness of perpetual mourning. Yet I hadn’t anticipated that I’d be writing a poem for Michael, but then I opened up to myself and his consciousness flowed right in. Perhaps I had a vacuum to fill at that moment from an external point of view, taking Michael’s place for the poem that would talk to him and he to me.

I remember little of that when I came to visit with him and made his portrait. It was a serene afternoon. Just him and me. I remember distinctly that we went off in his car, perhaps to a restaurant. We were driving somewhere, and that made sense. But for the life of me I remember nothing of what transpired over lunch. With all the history—and it ain’t an awful lot—there’s still a history there to be acknowledged. You know, I performed the part of Billy the Kid in Warhol’s movie which we adapted from Michael’s play, The Beard. Hardly anyone knows this; perhaps in part because I believe the movie has never been shown. So the friendships last and last and continue beyond the grave.

SCARLETT SABET: I’m always struck by the structure of your poems. I was wondering what your approach to this was, whether there was any major influence from particular poets of your youth, or even whether the way that you frame scenes and ideas within poems has any crossover influence from your work in the wider art world?

GERARD MALANGA: Yes, there’s probably a very strict structure to my poems, but it’s casually applied in what the work proposes as possibility, which I don’t even notice when I’m starting out. For instance, for a very long time, the opening to the work begins with an indented first line of let’s say 8 characters. It’s my way of engaging myself and the reader into a form of poetry that’s a radically different departure from what may be normally perceived. Yes, it’s a poem, but I like to think of them as prose poems as well.

I left ‘influences’ behind decades back. I’m pretty much on autopilot. I’m my own navigator. I travel the journey alone. My earliest influence when I literally started was Gerard Manley Hopkins. I was enchanted by his system of ‘sprung rhythm’ which he basically invented with no imitators following. That would’ve been 1959 during the start of the high school year in my senior class. In 1962, I believe, John Ashbery made a profound influence on my early work with his book The Tennis Court Oath. That became my Bible. I’d carry it around my duffle bag wherever I went. But it was Ted Berrigan with his Sonnets in ’64 that unlocked the door for me into what Ashbery was doing and that was a sheer liberating factor. From there the work continued to expand on its own.

The only ‘crossover influence’ that I imagine, as you put it, in the ‘wider art world’ would be my own life, and not the art world, per se. So what we have here is the tendency to open almost all the work in the form of what appears to be a letter on the surface, but is actually a message. I’m addressing the subjects of my poems directly; they’re not ‘about’ the subject. I’m talking directly to them, as if they’re right in the room, whether it’s a person or a cat.

SCARLETT SABET: You mention you don’t write about your subjects but address them directly in your poems. I think this is what makes them so arresting and intimate, particularly in the ‘Lives They Lived’ chapter in your beautiful collection Cool & Other Poems [published by Bottle of Smoke Press]. Each poem is a visceral portal, allowing the reader to be present with you, and witness Christopher Logue against a snowing sky before warming his hands around a mug of cognac, and Anita Pallenberg a vivacious, laughing woman sitting opposite you at Cafe Flore. Also in that chapter you include a poem entitled ‘Gerard Malanga dies’. The poem contains the line ‘I am my only guide now,’ which I found so powerful. Could you tell us how that poem came to be?

GERARD MALANGA: Putting together that section, ‘The Lives They Lived’, I figuratively had to step outside myself. That’s how close I was with many of those listed and to the memories I have of them held dear. It was not an easy section to compile. By the way, ‘The Lives They Lived’, is borrowed from the New York Times‘s annual round-up supplement. I called my contact at the paper to get permission to use it and he saw no problem involved.

Writing ‘Gerard Malanga dies’ was a tricky situation in the need to make it work. It was one of the final poems in the section and it presented me with an opportunity to address certain issues surrounding death and to those friends I’d already acknowledged over a period of nearly 40 years. I also lapse into a bit of my own personal history, as if I’m contemplating how others might see me after I’ve gone: ‘The rabbit hole is waiting for my plunge.’ Somehow, that image of the rabbit hole has emerged in a few of my poems and also echoes back to Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, one of my favorite childhood books.

The rabbit hole is an image for both death and resurrection, as I see it. Here, I question myself, ‘Am I preparing for another life? A return to life?’ And so I treat this poem as slowly nearing its own end with a ‘journey’ back to life ‘…and on and on…’. I equate this with an actual journey I’d taken by train from ‘Glasgow down to Central London…’ back in 2014 where I’d been dreamily staring out the window at a passing landscape I might not ever explore at any other time.

‘Will I even find my way home to the Bronx’ alludes to a movie I’d seen years back I recall, called ‘The Swimmer’ adapted from a John Cheever short story. Starring Burt Lancaster, his character is swimming across a series of backyard swimming pools and encountering neighbors he knew poolside in attempting to reach home. And when he arrives in the pouring rain and runs up to the door, he discovers that the door’s locked and the house is empty. Such a potent ending and darkened cinematic metaphor, brilliantly done. And it’s these private memories in my life resurfacing that I feel nourishes my work.

SCARLETT SABET: We met at a book launch in London, and you were immediately swarmed, surrounded by people. I think that is a testament to the impact your writing has had globally and across generations. How has your home city of New York and its literary landscape changed and evolved for you over the years? Is it something you feel especially connected to?

GERARD MALANGA: Your question speaks volumes, but I’m going to try to be as brief and succinct as I can hope to be as the facts show. I’m seventy-seven now and there have been no accolades to show for it. Cool came out last year and Whisper Sweet Nothings two years prior and together they comprise the best of anything I’ve ever done, and yet they’ve been totally ignored by the New York literary press overall. In the five decades I’ve been publishing I’ve received not one grant or fellowship or any of the prizes totaling in the millions. Nada. Zilch. I can’t even get my memoirs published and I have thousands of fans waiting for this book. You would think that would count for something. I’m grateful for the European attitude towards my work. That’s what keeps the work alive for me. That’s where my audience is and they relate. I love what I do, and I know it shows through the work from the responses at the readings I give and that’s how my work thrives. I love my audience and that’s the truth of it.

SCARLETT SABET: A year ago today, I finished my waitressing shift, went home and listened to what Jimmy [Page] had produced from the recordings we had made of my poems. this became our spoken word album Catalyst. It was a joy to be able to give you our album as I am so moved by your work. It had a sense of synchronicity also, as years earlier, Jimmy had given me a signed edition of your beautiful poem ‘Devotion’.

You said that ‘Cut Up’ was your favourite track on Catalyst. I had christened that poem ‘Cut Up’ simply because it was the first time I had used the William Burroughs/Brion Gysin method. I always feel it’s a handing over, a leap of faith to a higher power, to introduce another energy to it, and it came out with it’s own dark, random rhythm. Burroughs said “when you cut into the present the future leaks out”, and in that sense it has a spell like quality or possibility.

Some poems I’ve written in one sitting, a sort of channeling, like ‘Fifth Circle of Hell’, which is also on Catalyst. But part of the reason I found the cut-up method so liberating that first time was that I was trying to write a poem to encapsulate that period. I felt cautious because the subject matter was focused on the events in Europe and the Middle East, and the horrors and blood shed of the Bataclan attacks in Paris. I think my own identity and ethnicity – my mother is French-Scottish and my father is Persian – gave this piece more weight personally. So really, the cut-up was a way of detaching through the process, which was effective. I suppose I wonder what your thoughts are on cut-ups?

GERARD MALANGA: Scarlett, cut-ups are a tricky business. They almost feel spontaneous, but with every move there’s no turning back. They’re the antithesis to parallel grammatical structures which is how we reform language to make things sound right. You see Bill [Burroughs] stuck with it all his life. Cut-ups were his language and he embraced the process. It’s okay to experiment with language so long as you come out at the other end with something that satisfies you and encourages you to want to do more, to go further. That’s a big commitment. The one thing you want to avoid is being self-conscious in the process, as you put it. There’s no room for self-consciousness in cut-ups. You have to operate on a more or less unconscious level like when you dream.

Of course, you realize this in dreams. I don’t need to tell you. In dreams, nothing really connects or relates. Dreaming is a series of visual and mental disconnects. One thing leads to the next but you don’t know why nor do you have time to stop to know why. It’s like you go with the flow. Excuse the corniness of this. Dreams are the cut-ups of the unconscious. You can’t go back to change anything to make it better. There’s nothing qualitative about it. When that happens to me, I try to maintain the balance of the good and the bad together. All of it. Yes, I’ve done a little tweaking here and there, but only because I’m now in the conscious state and I want to make the lines sound just right. So it’s okay to prune. Robert Lowell taught me how to prune. But you have to know what you’re doing. It’s trusting your instincts. That’s what I do. If I throw out a perfectly terrific line, it’s because I’m trusting my instincts. But, of course, only I know that. The reader doesn’t, nor does he need to.

One of my earliest poems was a form of the cut-up. My English teacher in high school, Daisy Aldan, who introduced me to the world of poetry, gave us an assignment in class to cut out words at random from the newspaper and fill a paper bag with them. The next step was to reach into the bag and pick out one word at a time and place them on a page, and then to transcribe those words into a text, including all the capital and lower-case letters. I did one better and glued them onto the page. This all had to do with chance. Remember, Stéphane Mallarmé, in his last poem ‘Un coup de dés’ said that a ‘a throw of the dice NEVER NEVER will abolish chance.’ Well, he was right about that. You take your chances, you trust your instincts.

SCARLETT SABET: I’ve started reading Gysin’s novel The Process. I bought it last year at Shakespeare&Co but started reading it now to feel closer to Morocco, a place that I really love, while still in lockdown. I wondered what places have meant the most to you?

GERARD MALANGA: I have Brion’s book on my shelf, but I’ve yet to read it. Perhaps I’m still not ready for it yet. Right now I’m immersed in Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. What I like about it is that it reads like it’s not translated but written directly in English. That’s probably the best kind of translated work.

The first place that comes to mind that has meant the most to me, although there may have been others, is the Cafe Flore. It was my first introduction to cafe life when I arrived in Paris in the spring of 1965. And henceforth whenever I’ve visited Paris, I would arrive punctually every morning during my stays. There’s no other cafe that does it for me. Of course, there’s the cafe in the Luxembourg Gardens, but that’s more like a restaurant; a different ambiance entirely. The Flore has a certain something, a certain charm about it that allows me to immerse myself reading the morning papers or writing a poem even. The food’s good too. The croissants, the omelettes, the cafe creme. Some years back, I started referring to it as my ’office’ whenever I had an appointment to meet with friends. And I’d be certain to book a hotel room within walking distance. Anyway, the Flore is the start of my day.

SCARLETT SABET: Well, I hope one day, when the lockdown is over, we can meet you at Cafe Flore.

Photos: London Magazine

[stories-you-wont-hear]

– four seasons. | storm

hello friends! this is the second installment of the four seasons mini-series ft. billy russo. i really like y/n and maria’s friendship and tbh they end up getting more time together than the reader and billy but IT’S FINE BY ME! i love reading your comments on this, esp bc it’s pre-anvil billy who is a precious sweetheart.

pls enjoy, and as always, leave lots of love! xoxo mira

tag list: shameless-pope  bellastellaluna  the-scarletsandwich @its-my-little-dumpster-fire

“Mom!” Lisa bellowed, nearly knocking you out as she ran into the kitchen. “Daughter?” Maria called, not moving from her position as her child stood with her hands on her hips staring her down. “Frank keeps taking my headphones! Tell him to stop,” Lisa said, her anger apparent in her tone. “Frank. Stop.” Maria deadpanned, taking a sip from her cup of coffee. You couldn’t help but snort in response to Maria, and Lisa shot you a look of pure hatred for it. 

“Mom!” Lisa cried again, this time dropping her arms as she whined. Maria sighed as she shook her head, “Look, you two need to learn how to sort this out amongst yourselves. I’m not a mediator.” “But you’re our mom,” Lisa exasperated. “And I certainly don’t get paid enough for it,” Maria shot back, her hands cupping her cup of coffee. You cut in, wanting to keep Maria’s stress to a minimum. It had been two months since Frank, and Billy, had left and Maria had been handling the kids on her own.

It was nothing she hadn’t done before, but you knew it was never easy. “Lisa,” you called, “Leave your poor mom alone. I’ll take you shopping on Black Friday for new ones.” Maria rolled her eyes behind Lisa, but the kid was satisfied. She left the kitchen with her mood having taken a complete 180. “I birthed them, feed them, keep a roof over their heads, but alas! It’s Aunt Y/N this, Aunt Y/N that,” Maria sighed. You laughed, your hands cupping your own cup of coffee as you looked over at your friend. “Hey, Black Friday shopping is pretty much the equivalent of going into a warzone,” you called back. Maria held a hand up in surrender, “Touche. I’d never do it.” You nodded, giving her a pointed look, “Yeah, you just shop on Monday from your computer like a coward.”

“Better a wise coward than a foolish knight,” Maria said pointedly, moving to wash out her empty cup in the sink. You stood to wash your own empty cup, handing it to Maria’s outstretched hand but made no movement back towards your seat. “So,” you said slowly, not wanting to let your true intentions out so quickly, “Any word lately from Frank?”

“Why do you ask?” Maria asked, her own voice mirroring your tone. An eyebrow raised, she glanced at you suspiciously. “Just wondering,” you said a little too quickly, “The holidays are coming up, I’m sure they’re missing home.” 

“They’re?” Maria repeated, now fully looking at you. You felt yourself inched slowly away from Maria, who was now leaning against the counter, arms crossed over her chest as she looked at you through a narrowed gaze. “Frank and… Billy and the rest of the good people who risk their lives for the sak-” you blurt before Maria cut in. “You bitch!” she cried, her eyes wide as she caught Billy’s name. “Language!” Frank Jr.’s voice shouted from down the hall upon catching his mother’s curse. 

Maria rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to you, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” You shrugged, playing it off like you didn’t know exactly what she was talking about. “Come on,” Maria said, looking at you expectantly. After a solid minute of silent back and forth, you finally sighed in defeat. “We kissed after the party you guys had over the summer,” you said in a low voice, not wanting Frank Jr. to overhear. “Oh my god,” Maria cried, throwing her hands up, “I know that!” 

You scoffed, knowing Lisa probably spilled the beans the second she saw Billy’s lips brush over your cheek during that Sunday morning breakfast that seemed so long ago. “So then what?” you asked. “That’s what I’m trying to find out, Y/N!” Maria said. 

“There’s really nothing to say other than that,” you explained, “It’s not like he asked me to see him off or write him long, sappy letters.” “Oh, but you should,” Maria said, suddenly moving to place her hands on your shoulders, “You so should.” 

“Geez Maria,” you said as you placed your hands on top of hers, “I so should not be getting into whatever this is. It’s so hard for you and Frank and you guys are so… so solid! Me and Billy? We’re just a few weeks of kisses and back and forth flirting.” 

“Y/N,” Maria started, her voice so firm that you probably would have agreed to almost anything she was about to say, “It’s hard. It’s so hard. It’s so unbelievably difficult. But it’s so worth it. Billy is worth it.” She turned squeezed your shoulders before sliding her hands from under your grip, the softness in her eyes so different from the firmness of her tone but that was Maria for you. 

“Here,” she said, moving away from you to rummage through a kitchen drawer, “We’re going to send Frank a care package, and we always send Billy stuff, too. You should write him a letter.” “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” you said nervously, placing one hand on the kitchen counter to steady yourself.

“I promise I won’t read it,” Maria said, holding up the sheets of notebook paper and pen she had managed to find. You took what she was handing out to you, albeit hesitantly. She also found an envelope and put it on the counter next to you, giving you another reassuring look, “Look, Y/N. I can’t tell you what to do. I’m not even going to lie and say that I don’t want this to happen, you and Billy. Because I do. But, I saw the way you were glowing when the two of you were together. You were happy. You deserve to give this a shot, you deserve a chance at happiness.” 

“You should be a motivational speaker, Maria,” you muttered, mustering up a smile to offer in return for her pep talk. “Yeah,” she replied sarcastically, “Once the kids turn 18 and I can quit my day job.” You giggled as Maria slipped past you, giving you privacy to ‘shoot your shot’ according to her.

Dear Billy,

I’m really only writing this because Maria is making me. I mean- I wanted to write to you, but I wasn’t really sure if that’s something you would have liked me to do. I tend to hold myself back a lot because of that. 

But here I am, shooting my shot through the lost art of letter writing as Maria likes to say, the first part at least. By the way, she knows about our… practicing. Lisa is a snitch. Totally not to be trusted.

Things here are pretty normal. Normal as can be. Work is work, and I spend a lot of time with Maria and the kids. I really should get friends my own age. Ha. Well, Maria isn’t that much older than me, but don’t tell her I said that. We’re both 29 until we die. 

The holidays are coming up, Halloween was fun with the kids. Frank Jr. wanted to be a soldier, but he didn’t because Lisa said it wasn’t just a costume, it was something bigger. She’s definitely Frank’s kid. They ended up going as Ghostbusters. And getting their candy confiscated for fighting on November 1st. Yep, definitely Frank’s kids.

I’m probably going to spend Thanksgiving with them. With Frank gone, Maria needs me. The kids like having me here, or maybe it’s just that I make a decent pecan pie. Wish you were here. And Frank too. 

I’ve never really had someone to miss, but I do miss you. Is that cool with you?

Love, Best,

Y/N

And that was that. You folded up the single sheet of paper neatly and slid it into the envelope, sifting through the kitchen drawer Maria had gone through before to find some tape to seal the envelope shut. “Don’t trust my mom?” Lisa called out, drawing your attention to her figure standing by the door. She looked so much like her mom, arms crossed over her chest, but that smile was all Frank. “I honestly don’t trust anyone in House Castle with anything other than my life,” you replied back matter-of-factly. “Good call,” Lisa said with a knowing smile, walking over to lean against the counter near you as you carefully wrote out Billy’s name on the envelope. “I think he’ll write back,” Lisa said simply. You were taken aback by her tone, you blamed the black and whiteness in her perspective on her age. It seemed so simple to kids, kiss a guy and bam, you’re together. It wasn’t as simple as that. Was it?

“You think?” you murmured, your fingers running over the corners of the envelope, still doubting whether you were doing the right thing. “He’d be stupid not to,” Lisa replied, giving you a shrug as if that were that. This time, you weren’t bothered by the plainness of her tone, but instead felt a surge of warmth spreading in your heart, highlighted optimism. “Right,” you repeated with a smile, “He’d be stupid not to.”

Turns out, Billy Russo was not an idiot. He did write back. The letter came, taped up, in the same envelope as one of Frank’s letters. “I didn’t know my husband knew how to write a letter,” Maria had joked, slipping the letter to you after brunch a week after Thanksgiving, “Turns out, Billy was the one who pushed him to it. Something about the lost art of letter writing.” 

You were so giddy, you ended up walking over to a nearby coffee shop. You were too afraid you’d be unable to wait until you got home to open the letter, so ten minutes after parting ways with Maria, you were settled at a corner table in a small coffee shop with a hot mocha and Billy’s letter.

Hey Y/N,

Cool opening. Much chiller than yours, you noted.

I already thought I shot my shot with you, but I guess kissing you wasn’t a clear enough hint that I like you? And Lisa wouldn’t have told if you had bribed her the way I do, but that’s a secret that stays with me. You’ll have to find your own way with Lisa. She’s a smart kid.

I’d say that things are normal here too, but there’s nothing normal about being out here. It’s normal for me, but I don’t think anybody else can understand that. And that’s alright, y’know? 

God, I do miss pie. Make me some when I get back, will you? It’s the food I miss, the food and the beer. And Maria and the kids, of course. And you. Is that weird?

I guess not. Frank misses Maria. I think I miss you like that. So, it’s fine by me if you miss me. If you want to miss me via e-mail so I can miss you even faster, that’s also fine by me. Hear from you soon, yeah?

Billy

He even closed out his letters in a cool way! You mentally cursed yourself for crossing out that damn love you had written, hoping he hadn’t been able to make out your mistake. After you moved on past your embarrassment, you quickly typed in the email address he had written on the bottom of the letter, typing out a quick message to him.

You nearly pressed sent too, but you held back, finger hovering over the send button. 

Hey Billy! Y/N here, as you can probably see as my e-mail address is my first and last name put together. Good point, we should be living in the 21st century and using e-mail. Then again, in the age of texting, e-mail writing is also a lost art of sorts. 

And I know what you mean. I just like knowing that you’re well, as well as you can be. I’d like you to come home in one piece, if that’s not too much to ask.

Also, will you tell me your Lisa taming secret for $1 million? 

You sighed, wondering if the rules of courtship applied to whatever this was with you and Billy. Twenty long mocha-sipping, barista probably thinks you’re crazy minutes later, you finally hit send. You figured he wouldn’t see the e-mail that quickly anyway, and that rules weren’t real and meant nothing. Just as quickly, you checked your sent folder to see if it had in fact really sent and thanks to the blessing of wireless internet, the e-mail had in fact sent. You then began refreshing your e-mail on your phone, sitting with the strange anticipation of a reply. Another five minutes of that, and you finally headed out to your car after no reply came, dialing Maria’s number at the same time.

“Of course there’s no reply,” Maria’s voice called out over the phone, “You just sent the damn e-mail, Y/N!” “I know,” you whined back, signalling your turn before slumping in the driver’s seat of your car. “Now I want to know what he wrote,” Maria commented offhandedly, and you imagined her leaning over her kitchen counter to stare out the window as she talked you down over the phone. “Over my dead body,” you muttered, to which Maria laughed out loud. “Just hold on, Y/N,” she assured you, “Just hold on.”

Maria was right. Well, she usually almost always was. Billy’s reply came a few days later, and you had practically jumped out of your office chair while at work when the notification popped up.

I’ll try and come back in one piece, but no guarantees. Also, when was e-mail writing ever an art? I thought it was always something painful adults had to do. Even thinking of the word “regards” makes me sick.

Tell me more about how things are for you, work, friends, anything. I want to know more about you.

And I would not sell you my Lisa taming secret for all the money in the world.

You bit back a smile, hoping that no one around the office was looking at you grinning at your phone screen like an idiot. Sure enough, no one was and you reread Billy’s e-mail several times over. And you couldn’t help but smile every time you did.

Over the next weeks, you and Billy e-mailed back and forth with an occasional Skype call in between. The first time you saw him on a screen was when Maria was Skyping with Frank and Billy popped in the background while you were saying hi to Frank. 

“Hey stranger!” Billy called, the image of him grainy but sure enough, it was him. “Hey!” you called, your voice immediately brighter than it was a second ago and you caught Maria and Frank giving each other a look. “We can go, y’know, if the two of you want some privacy?” Frank teased as Maria snickered. “Real mature,” you muttered, playfully smacking Maria’s shoulder.

The next time Billy e-mailed you, he gave his Skype ID so that the two of you could talk sans Castle intrusion. 

“Hey you!” you called, seated on the floor of your living room as your laptop rested on your coffee table. You had a cozy sweater on, keeping you warm in the midst of the rainstorm outside. It had been pouring for days nonstop, and while it meant no snow to shovel, it was hardly weather to match the cheery-ness of the holiday season.

“Hey sweetheart,” Billy replied, his lips moving in the video a second before the sound processed but you didn’t care. This was the next best thing to having him there. “How was that office Christmas party?” Billy asked, referencing an awful Secret Santa you had been to just two days earlier. “I got a nice set of hot pink oven mitts from this lady in accounting,” you bragged, your eyes wide in exaggeration. Billy laughed and the sound was truly music to your ears, “Hold onto those for me. They sound like they’re just my style.” “Yeah,” you muttered, “And I’ll get you those eyelashes you can put on your car, too.” Billy shook his head at you, unable to push back the smile from his face.

“It’s weird, y’know?” he said suddenly, shifting a bit in his seat. It caught you by surprise, you were telling him about the presents at the party that were so bad that they were good, and the smile dropped from his lips as he spoke. “Secret Santa?” you asked slowly, confused at the sudden change. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve never had anybody like this to talk to,” he said, hands moving to gesture towards the camera. “Mari-” you began before he cut in. “Nah,” he shook his head, “Not like that. Someone who’s mine.” A silence came over you, the weight of his words hanging in the air as you looked at him at the screen. You thought for a second the screen froze, but Billy blinked his eyes. “Did it freeze?” he said softly, after you hadn’t responded or moved. You shook your head, slowly at first. The sound of the heavy rain against your window were a tell-tale sign, but you weren’t sure of what to say at first. “No,” you replied back, just as softly. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, the regret apparent in his eyes, “I didn’t me-” You cut in, “No, I want you to mean it like that, Billy. I want to be somebody for you. I just didn’t know how you felt, and I’m too afraid I’ll overstep something, some kind of boundary…” Billy laughed softly, the skin around his eyes crinkling up the way it did when he really smiled, “You’re an idiot. You and me both. We let dumb shit like this hold us back.” You couldn’t help but mirror his laugh, the tension sliding off your shoulders, even as the storm didn’t let up outside, “No more dumb shit.” “No more,” he repeated, “Just us.” For the first time since that kiss the night of the party at the Castle’s home, you felt at peace. The sound of the rain was now comforting, the pitter-patter against your window now soothing you as you smiled at Billy’s image on the screen. “Just us,” you said softly, “Us.”

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 33

We all arrived at Joyce’s house around the same time; Jonathan rushing in first to place an unconscious Will on the couch, and I was beginning to wonder what exactly happened in that lab.

They were meant to be helping the kid; not hurting him, but something about staring at his limp body just lying there made me feel sick.

Maybe it was too much of a reminder of Sara.

I tried not to think of her too much; her cute little pigtails and bright blue eyes painful to picture, even now.

The memories of the hospital were worse; her pale sunken cheeks, her head void of hair; looking more like a Holocaust victim than the bouncing, smiling little girl she used to be.

That’s one of the reasons we’d been so eager for Eleven to grow her hair out; the short stubble still too close a trigger of long evenings in the hospital, faking smiles and holding back tears because she couldn’t know the truth.

Dad had been on the phone for the last half hour, yelling down the line at what I guessed was was army, though clearly not getting anywhere.

They didn’t believe him.

Fuck; who would?!

This shit was crazy and I was the one living it! It didn’t matter if you were a cop, or a scientist, or the fucking president himself; nobody listened when you started with crazy talk.

“Hey.” Steve pulled me from my thoughts as he propped himself against the wall next to me.

Funny how he always seemed to know the right moment to cut in, just before I dragged myself too deep into my thoughts and risked drowning in them.

“Hey.” I replied; not really feeling up for conversation, but grateful for the distraction anyway.

“You feeling alright?” He asked; that soft concern in his voice overly familiar by now.

“Yeah; I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I tried to fake a smile, but it fell flat.

Probably didn’t matter anyway; Steve could always see through those.

“You seem a bit quiet...” Steve continued with his angle; turning his body so he could face me and look at me with those deep thoughtful brown eyes.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind...” I admitted with a harsh laugh, because it was true as of late. Between El and dad and Billy and now all this shit, my mind was fit to burst.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked; always to lend a sympathetic ear to me, no matter what the problem.

“I’d... rather not.” I brushed him off, though the slightly downtrodden look on his face hurt me more than it should.

He was only trying to help, and God knows I could really use someone to talk to about all this bullshit, but that couldn’t be Steve.

He was too close to the centre, and I couldn’t afford to get him hurt.

He meant too much to me for that to happen.

“Let’s just go wait with the kids...” I offered, pushing up from the wall and walking into the kitchen, because all the sullen faces in here were beginning to get to me.

———————————————

The kids were gathered at Joyce’s kitchen table, looking more like depressed pensioners, than what had previously been overexcited children.

It was almost sad; really. What had started out as one of their fantasy adventures made real, had turned into another grown up nightmare that they just wanted to wake up from.

The tallest kid; Mike, Nancy’s brother I think, got up from his seat, walking over to a cardboard box of what looked like junk.

“Did you guys know that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV?” The kid asked as if it was common trivia, and not the total out-of-the-blue question it seemed to me.

“Really?” Lucas responded, taking his eyes off the kitchen table to watch Mike pick up a weird cube off the top of the box.

“He petitioned the school to start it and everything. And then he had a fundraiser for equipment.” Mike replied with newfound enthusiasm as he turned back towards us.

“Mr Clark learnt everything from him. Pretty awesome, right?”

The kids all nodded in halfhearted agreement, like me; clearly not on the same page as the lanky tween.

“We can’t let him die in vain.” Mike stated, launching into what I already knew through experience was a hero speech to rock the ages.

“Well; what do you wanna do Mike?” Dustin snapped; for once being the one to offer sense in all this.

“Alright; the Chief’s right on this. We can’t stop those Demodogs on our own.”

“Demodogs?” Max repeated, expressing the confusion we all shared.

“Demogorgon - - Dogs - - Demodogs. It’s like a compound. A play on words—“ Dustin clarified as if its the most obvious thing in the world.

“I mean; when it was just Dart, maybe…”

“But there’s an army now.” Supported Lucas, and I began to wonder when middle schoolers became such nihilists.

“Precisely.” Agreed Dustin; these two back to being best buds again.

“His army...” Mike stated; a dark sense of realisation crossing his face.

“What do you mean?” I asked, picking up that the tween leader just had one of those rare lightbulb moments.

“His army.” Mike repeated with weighted words, despite the confusion of the rest of the party.

“Maybe if we stopped him; we can stop his army too...” Mike suggested perhaps the simplest of solutions.

So simple; a child had actually come up with it.

So simple; it might actually work.

———————————————-

For two fully grown responsible adults, and four less easily defined teenagers to be following the plan of a bunch of thirteen year olds; we must be desperate.

I mean; it wasn’t like it was a bad plan. We use Will to get to the Mind Flamer... Flayer... thing. If I thought of it in a military sense; it was actually half decent.

A round of interrogation with a good helping of good cop, bad cop; it all seemed pretty solid.

Dad had to work out the kinks, but for the first time tonight; I could breath a sigh of relief, because for once; the whole world was resting on somebody else’s shoulders.

We’d prepped the shed as a impromptu interrogation chamber; the small dark space surprisingly indistinct beneath a layer of newspaper and duck tape.

Of course; I wasn’t to sit in on the interrogation.

That privilege went to family and close friends; with the exception of my dad, because someone here had to know what they’re doing.

Instead I was sat in the house with Nancy, Steve and the kids, trying not to feel like sitting ducks whilst the looming threat of possible annihilation hung over us.

Steve was working on his baseball swing, sweeping his nailbat in wide arcs as if fending off some invisible enemy.

“You alright there? You look a little tense?” I asked; noticing the tight rise of his shoulders as he made each swing.

“I’ll feel better once I know those things are dead.” Steve replied without a hint of his usual humour, and if Steve was somber; we must really be in trouble.

“If he finds out where we are; will he send those things after us?” Max asked, sounding genuinely nervous for the first time tonight.

“He won’t find us.” Lucas assured her with far more conviction than he had any right to, and I was reminded why young love was so foolish; always making promises you can’t keep.

“Yeah; but if he does...” Max continued her train of thought; fear clouding her mind from all reassurances.

“Judgement day.” Lucas stated ominously, and I tried not to dwell on the truth in the statement, knowing all too well the odds we were up against here.

—————————————————-

Twenty minutes of thumb twiddling later; I was really starting to believe this whole plan had been a dud and it was time to start packing our bags and moving to Nebraska.

Then dad walked in with that steely look of determination in his eye, Joyce and Jonathan following close behind, and I knew they’d managed to crack the kid.

“What happened?” Dustin asked as dad snatched a sheet of paper off the wall, before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“I think he’s talking. Just not with words.” Dad replied, scribbling a series of dots and dashes on the paper.

“Hey; what is that?” Steve asked; reaffirming he was the slowest in the group.

“Morse code.” We all stated, silencing him as my dad began to translate the code into English.

“H - E - R - E...” Dad stated as he wrote down each letter; the red crayon nearly bending with the force he held it with.

“Here.” Mike read; triggering a series of looks between Joyce and Jonathan.

“Will’s still in there. He’s talking to us.” Dad clarified; the meaning of that sentence finally striking home.

It worked!

The kids’ fucking shitpile of a plan worked!

And with it; we were gonna kill this monster for good this time.

[she-writes-imagines]

Safe Haven, Pt. 1

A/N: Billy moves into the house across the street from Piper, a girl with a mysterious past.

Timeline loosely follows Season 2 and disregards certain elements of Season 3.

Disclaimer: I don’t approve of, or excuse some of Billy’s behavior. I just enjoy how well exicuted the character is and its interesting to write for him.

Chapter 1

The town of Hawkins, Indiana was always a bit peculiar. Strange things always seemed to happen there and they got stranger every day. This story begins in October of 1967. That’s when I was born. My mother was a scientist and researcher in a very top secret government lab that was housed in Hawkins. Cherie Lindell was her name, she and her sister, Diane, grew up in Hawkins. My father's name was Jeff Callahan and he went to school with my mother. And they were different as different could be. My mother was a science nerd, anti-social and completely lost in her own world. My father played football, and was incredibly mechanically inclined and took auto shop basically every period his senior year, or so I’m told. But somehow they found their way to each other and managed to form a strong relationship and managed to keep that going while my mother was away getting her degree and my father stayed in Hawkins growing his auto shop and becoming a pillar of the community and all that. By the time my mother graduated and secured her government job, my father had bought a two story house with a white picket fence for the two of them to grow into together. Not long after they were married and I was on the way. That’s when things began to get a bit dicey.

The project that my mother was working on was so top secret, so secret that not even my father knew. But the lab was working on human experimentation working to develop mental and psychic abilities. My mother allowed herself to be experimented on while she was pregnant with me. And that is how I, Piper Callahan, was born with some scary abilities. To be exact telekinesis and empathic tendencies. As a child I Thought it was normal. I thought every other child could do the things that I could and I never questioned why I was homeschooled and the only places I ever went, were to my aunt Diane’s and uncle Jim’s house, and my moms lab. And that's when the bad thing happened. I was seven years old, I didn’t have good control of my abilities and I was throwing a tantrum. A big one. Things flying around the room and a side table hit my daddy in the back of the head. After that I spent a lot of time alone. And then Diane and Jim convinced my mother to put me into the public school system. My powers seemed to be gone after the bad thing. Or so I let everyone believe. The only people that knew were my mother and the doctors at the lab. They were stupid and easy enough to convince. I grew and had a relatively normal childhood and a normal adolescence. A rough transition through puberty and all that good stuff. I mourned the death of my cousin and watched my aunt and uncle's marriage fall apart. My aunt moved away from Hawkins and got remarried. We didn’t talk much. My mother went off the deep end and almost never came home. I found solace in my uncle. Uncle Hop as I so affectionately called him. He was the chief of police. He knew of my abilities and believed they were gone. I never wanted anyone else to know about me ever again. We spent a lot of time together and I took care of him more than he took care of me. I had plenty of friends at school. I was a floater and liked by almost everyone. Nancy, Steve, Barb, Jonathan and many others. I was intelligent, athletic, artistic, good with cars like my dad. I became someone that I like. And then the next bad thing happened.

The disappearance of Will Beyers. A tragedy felt by almost everyone in the community. And at the same time I felt another presence in town. A familiar one but I couldn’t place it. A lot of crazy things happened. Monsters sneaking their way around town. Mysterious disappearances. My friend Barb, taken into what seven year old me called “the scary place.” And then with a series of insane events Nancy, Jonathan and I ended up meeting up with Nancy’s brother and his friends. And the familiar presence. She was eleven. I had been number one. Soul sisters in a project that should have never existed. She was untrusting and skittish. She could barely speak in coherent thoughts. She must have been kept in almost total isolation. Focusing on growing her powers. She was younger than me. Younger than Mike and the other kids. Maybe twelve. I didn’t want to reveal my powers I didn’t want anyone to know. But I pulled her aside and i showed her the number on my arm as well. She touched it with her fingers, then my face, “Sister,” she said and smiled, “Pretty.”

“Sister,” I repeated. “You’ll keep my secret?” I asked her.

She looked confused.

“I can’t do it anymore. I’m broken. No one but you knows.” I said to her.

“Sisters keep secrets.” She said determined.

We found will. Saved the day. Defeated the bad guys and all that jazz. After the commotion eleven disappeared. I told Uncle Hop everything. And together we were able to find eleven in the woods and she came with us. Hop had a cabin in the middle of the woods. Almost no one knew about it and we knew she would be safe there. As time went on I began to let El in on the secret that I still had my powers and made her promise not to tell anyone. It was dangerous for all parties involved if anyone found out about my abilities. Together we worked on controlling and growing our gifts and Hop was happy we had each other. And I was happy that she had Hop. I loved El and she adored me right back. Things looked like they were going to be ok.

I hadn’t seen my mother in over a week. She hadn’t come home from her lab and I was sure at this point she had her own apartments deep within the sub levels. Across the street a moving truck pulled into the driveway of a previously vacant house. After that a station wagon and a sexy ass blue Camaro. I was sitting on the couch in my living room, not even trying to pretend to not be staring at the car. And the boy that got out of the car was just as sexy. From his boots up to the ass hugging jeans. To the button up lazily tucked in and the leather jacket. And god the hair on that boy. He saw me looking and I didn’t even care. He raised an eyebrow and cockily smiled at me and gave a little wave. I didn’t return any of the gestures but hopped off the couch, ran upstairs to my room and put on my own ass hugging jeans, a black Harley t shirt, my chucks and looked at myself in the mirror. Delicious. I thought to myself. I had quite a reputation around town that I did thoroughly enjoy. Everyone said I reminded them of Stevie Nicks if she had dark hair. So if mother Stevie was the white witch then i was the Black witch. My skin was very fair, and my hair was a stark contrast, it was nearly black and my eyes were electric green. I was incredibly petite but my small stature was nothing in comparison to my aura. I won’t lie, I used my telekinesis to make my hair float about and make me appear lighter on my feet. I flittered down into the kitchen and thanked the almighty that i had the gumption to bake cookies earlier that morning. I piled the chocolate chunk cookies onto a plate and headed out my door and across the street. The first person I met was the daughter, “Welcome to the neighborhood neighbor, I’m Piper.” I offered her a cookie which she took.

“I’m Max.” There was rustling behind her, she turned around and saw the guy I watched get out of the Camaro earlier. “That’s my brother, Billy. Or Jackass, whichever suits you better.” She said just before turning around to carry another box inside the house.

“Cute kid, you must be the luckiest big brother ever. Would you like a cookie, Jackass, was it?” I joked.

He clenched his jaw briefly and then cracked a smile, “I think Billy will do just fine beautiful.” He said snatching a cookie from me. I held my hand out for him to shake and when his skin touched mine I felt a powerful emotion practically kick me in the stomach. Suffering, pain, loneliness, sadness, anger. Violent rage. Lust, insecurity. A lot to unpack for sure. I didn’t know what could cause so much pain in someone the same age as me, save for my own experiences. A cold and steely voice broke our eye contact.

“Can I help you?” The man said. I assumed Billy and Max’s father. Quite the unpleasant man. I immediately noticed that when he approached Billy seemed to shrink. He seemed smaller, eyes cast to the ground. I immediately didn’t like him. “Hi, its nice to meet you. My mom and I live across the street. I’m Piper Callahan, I brought you cookies.” I said as I held out my hand for him to shake. Again when the skin touched my hand, a gut punch of feeling. Primal rage mostly. And black and sticky evil. I understood so much more about Billy now. And I was worried for the rest of the family. His wife came around the truck and we went through the same process. I got almost nothing from her. She was almost like the shell of someone who used to be a person. She took the cookies and disappeared into the house. Her husband soon after her. Max reappeared from around the backside of the truck. I said to her, “It was real nice meeting you Max, I live mostly alone over there, my mom works a lot, if you ever need anything, girl time, a sleepover, a ride to school, just come over ok? My car is cooler than your brothers by far. And my motorcycle is even cooler than that.” She smiled at me and thanked me before disappearing again with another box.

“That was awful nice of you,” Billy said quite flirtily. “Thanks for stopping by. Will I be seeing you around school?”

“You’ll be seeing me, Billy.” I said, gently flirting back at him. I had a rule, I wasn’t going to ever get close to anyone. I didn’t want another bad thing happening. I couldn’t bear to know that I hurt someone else close to me again. But god damn was he a specimen. And there was no shame in some harmless flirting. “Will you let me see the insides of that beautiful beast you have down there?” I said motioning to his car.

“I think that might be a little out of your league princess.” He said.

“Oh sugar, I bet you I know more about it than you do. I have a ‘69 impala up in the garage and my dad was a mechanic. He died when I was seven but I inherited the talent from him. The guy that owns his shop now is great, I work there on weekends and in the summer. Pop the hood?” He looked behind him quickly and walked down the slope to the road. He opened the door and popped the hood. I opened it and looked inside. I whistled. It was a gorgeous and nearly immaculate block. But it looked like his ignition cable was a little loose. “You ever have problems starting her up? Mostly just when its cold?” I asked him.

“How’d you know?” He asked actually surprised that I seemed to know what I was talking about.

“Come here I’ll show you.” When he came around the front I pointed to the cable. “You see the screw you have securing the ignition cable? It’s the wrong size and its not attached properly. Which isn’t really that big of a deal, but when its cold and the metal shrinks up the connections aren’t as good. So it's a little harder to start. Bring it up the driveway later and I can fix that for you.”

“I don’t know...were kind of busy unpacking and all. Neil might not let me.”

I reached up and stroked his cheek, a spark of softness beifely shot through him. I could feel it. It made me wonder how long it had been since he had had any true compassionate human interaction. I’m sure he was having physical contact on the regular of the good and not so good variety. But something so gentle and kind, I wasn’t sure about. He seemed a troubled person but something in him sparked something in me and I knew in my heart I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try and show him some compassion and genuine human contact.

“I get it, its ok Billy. Same goes for you by the way. If you ever need anything, a ride to school, some girl time, a sleepover,” I paused and became a bit more somber when I said, “somewhere safe, to escape too. I’ve got the space and I don’t like being alone all the time. So really you’d be doing me a favor.”

I didn’t let him respond before sauntering back off to my side of the street, swinging my hips back and forth the entire way. Before I walked back inside the house I turned around, Billy was still looking at me. I wiggled my fingers at him before spinning around again and walking inside and shutting the door behind me. I was worried. I’d hardly met the family, but I knew that things were off. I knew that BIlly was going to be trouble, that he was trouble. I knew the kind of guy he was. Hard on the outside to hide the sadness that was inside him. Taking it out on other people. I was going to have to watch out for that. I was going to have to be careful not to get to close. None of the boys in Hawkins could ever tempt me like I knew that one out there could do. But that wasn’t the thing I was worried about the most. I was worried about that little girl, Max. The same age as El. I was worried she would be the next punching bag for Mr. Hargrove

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

lust (kinds of love)

Tony Stark x Reader

Part Four of the Kinds of Love Series

Summary: you and tony haven’t discussed your tryst. at all. in your head, you’ve rationalized it as a fluke -  a drunken slip up. so when you’re home alone and tony gets back from a stark industries function, drunk, you’re not entirely expecting the way the night goes instead...

Characters/Pairings: tony/reader, james rhodes, friday

Warnings: smut, like a lot of smut, adult language, drinking, the reappearance of my apparent billy idol-during-sex fetish, tony is the hands-iest guy ever

Word Count: 3,745

Prequel - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 -

MARVEL MASTERLIST

“FRIDAY, can you play my second night-time playlist? The one of Spotify?” you asked the room as you opened the freezer, lips pursing as you considered its contents. You had the New Avengers facility to yourself for the night and had helped yourself to the contents to Tony’s bar around eight. It was after ten now, and you’d had three self-made margaritas and were happily buzzing just enough that ice cream was now the only thing that mattered to you.

You rolled your eyes at your options but helped yourself to a tub of Ben and Jerry’s all the same. Stark Raving Hazelnuts. Sure, you were living with him, but even when he wasn’t at home, you never could escape Tony Stark.

“Of course, Miss L/N,” came the friendly, automated response. “Would you prefer to begin with a particular song?”

“Just stick it on shuffle, please,” you said, grabbing a spoon out of the drawer as the first chords of Grand Funk Railroad’s remastered edition of I’m You Captain/Closer to Home started playing. You bopped your head along to the beat as you made your way to other side of the kitchen island when your book lay open. Hopping up onto the stool you’d just vacated you spooned some into your mouth.

“Eh, not bad,” you said to yourself, digging the spoon back into the tab as you considered the label. Tony smirked cockily up at you from under the logo, surrounded by stylized swirls of ice-cream and nuts. You blamed the tequila for the tiny smile you gave it in return. “Oh, don’t look so pleased with yourself, Stark. It’s no Triple Caramel Chunk.”

It had been a bit over two weeks since you’d woken up in Tony’s bed, and neither of you had addressed it since that morning. You’d showered and dressed, caught on your way out the door by Tony, still in a pair of sweats and without a shirt. He’d presented you with fresh brewed coffee, toasted bagels and scrambled eggs, and you’d hidden your blush and agreed to a hurried breakfast together before you rushed off to your other life at N.Y.U.

You’d seen him sparingly since then; the two of you were kept busy by your own personal and professional commitments. Every time you saw him you considered bringing it up before you remembered his recent breakup with Pepper, or the age difference, or your superhero careers. So, you just carried on like nothing had happened, stuck in a stalemate of just being friends.

“…I’d like to help you in your struggle to be free…”

You looked up as a new voice joined the one on the speakers. Tony strolled into the room, a crooked grin on his face and his voice pleasantly lilting. He was wearing a tailored, two-piece suit, the charcoal material complemented by an emerald tie and pocket square. The tie had been loosened slightly and the top button undone, baring the base of his throat and the barest hint of his chest. His smile widened as he spotted you. “Hell, gorgeous.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. It was clear from his too-loud voice and carefree smile that he’d been drinking. “Have fun tonight, Tone?”

He shrugged, pouring himself a generous glass of scotch at the bar. “Missed you.”

“Oh, please,” you rolled your eyes with a smile standing. You rested the small of your back against the edge of the counter. “I’m sure your night was way more fun than mine. Unless you think a night alone with Chaucer is a riot,” you added, gesturing to your book. Medieval Lit was kicking your ass.

Tony smiled at you over the lip of his glass, moving towards you. He stopped a foot or so in front of you. “No, but if I remember correctly, a night with you can be pretty exciting.”

You snickered, tucking hair behind your ear. You felt a light blush rise in your cheeks; this was the first time either of you had broached the subject. “That was smooth, Tone. Nice.”

“Cheers,” he replied, raising his glass before taking a drink. He glanced up at the speaker closest to him before meeting your gaze again, head tilted to the side. There was a slight, drunken edge to his movements and to his words, but he didn’t stumble or slur; it was just a… looseness. A kind of relaxed. “Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover. Paul Simon. Are you thinking of leaving me, sweetheart?”

You raised a brow, giving him an amused smile, your fingers gripping at the edge of the counter. You released it with one hand to take his glass from him, holding his gaze as you took a sip.

“Is that what we are, Tony?” your voice was soft, almost intimate, but you couldn’t help the uncertainty that underscored it. “Are we lovers?”

“Is that what you want us to be?” he asked quietly, closing the distance between the two of you at an almost casual pace. Butterflies rose in your belly as he came to a stop in front of you, a few sparse inches between you. You could almost feel the heat of his body on yours as he took the glass from you and set it on the counter. Tony’s eyes were hooded, his gaze heavy; the way it travelled down your body before returning to your face made you clench. They met yours, flickering back down to your lips for a few, lingering seconds. His tongue slipped between his lips, wetting them.

“Tonight was terrible,” he said. Your lips crooked in a small smile and you reached out to touch his tie, almost as if you were considering the material.

“I’m sure it was glamorous.”

“Glamorous…” Tony repeated, watching your face. “Sure, it was glamorous. And dull and predictable just like every event I make an appearance at lately. Is it wrong that I just wanted to be here?”

You shrugged, your eyes still on your hands. You straightened his tie idly and smoothed your hands over his shirt. “Nothing wrong with wanting to be at home. I mean, it’s where the heart is, isn’t it?” you joked.

Tony let out a quiet, breathy laugh, cupping your cheek in his hand. You met his gaze again. “Not ‘home’ here. ‘Here’ here. With you.”

“Tony…” you said, swallowing. Your whole body was buzzing having him so close to you. “How much have you had to drink?”

He reached towards you, and your breath caught. But his hand passed you, and he held up the Ben and Jerry’s you’d abandoned so he could read the label. His lips curved in a wide, self-satisfied smirk.

“Don’t get too excited, Captain Ego,” you snarked dryly. “It’s the only flavor you had.”

“Mm-hmm,” his smirk didn’t falter, and he slowly placed it back on the countertop beside his glass and stepped in again. His body brushed against yours, warm and firm and familiar through the expensive material of his suit. One of his hands grazeed over your hip, gliding under your tee shirt to settle on your waist.

Tony leaned in to whisper to you, his breath tickling the sensitive flesh of your throat. “How’d I taste?”

The husky resonance of his voice sent a tingling sensation through the small of your back, and while the memory of his hand in your hair and your lips wrapped around him flickered in your mind, you couldn’t help but scoff at his words.

“Oh, now I know you’re drunk, Tony,” you laughed, smacking his chest. “There is no way that a sober Tony Stark would ev—”

Tony cut you off, his lips meeting yours eagerly, roughly. His fingers tightened on your waist, his other hand moving to your shoulder. You whined against his mouth, fingers curling around his tie again to encourage him closer.

You could feel his smile on your lips and his growing need against your thigh, and you felt your own want fluttering inside you. The counter edge was digging into your back as he pressed against you, but you ignored it, lost in the sensation of having Tony Stark kissing you once more.

“Tony…”

He pulled away from your lips to mark your throat with his teeth, the hand on your shoulder moving into your hair. You gasped at the teasing pain, felt his other hand slipping over your hip. It glided down your thigh, circling over your knee and slipping up between your thighs to part them. Even through your tights, the sensation was a wonderful torture.

“I told you I missed you,” he whispered, his teeth and tongue teasing your earlobe for a moment. His knee pushed between both of yours and he pressed his thigh against your centre. Tony’s hands found your hips again, urging you to move with him, against him. You sighed the beginnings of a moan as you ground against him.

“You saw me a few hours ago…” you mumbled, cupping his face in your hands and bringing his lips back to yours. He ground your hips against him, groaning against your mouth as you brushed against his crotch. He peppered kisses along your jaw desperately, fingers digging possessively into your flesh.

“Not like that,” he replied softly. Your shirt was riding up, your tights bunching in his hands. You braced your hands on his shoulders for leverage, rolling your hips over his thigh. “Missed you like this…”

Your breathing grew ragged as the coil inside you tightened; even through layers of fabric, you could feel the heat building.

“Having you like this…” he tugged your shirt collar to the side, burying his teeth in your collarbone for a moment before lathing his tongue over the mark he left behind. His breath was hot against your skin, intoxicating, and his fingers slipped between the two of you to slide against your centre and find your clit. “Touching you like this…”

“Fuck, Tony…” you moaned outright, and he grinned, kissing you again. You gripped at his hair, desperate for release.

Tony rested his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy. “Tell me you missed me, too, sweetheart. Please…”

There it was… sweetheart; the pet name made honeyed by his voice. You’d been craving it since you’d left that morning, but it hadn’t left his lips since.

“Tell me you missed me…” he murmured again, his fingers increasing their pressure on your clit. “Tell me, please…”

“I missed you,” you gasped, riding his hand. You were so, so close… “Jesus, fuck, Tony, I’ve missed you…”

His lips found yours again as you came, your whole body shuddering against him. He withdrew his hand slowly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw. He withdrew enough to meet your eye, pushing hair away from your face gently. “That’s my girl.”

You flushed at his words, bracing yourself against the counter for support.

“Now turn around.” He said roughly, guiding you by the waist. Your hands don’t leave the counter, gripping it, and you whimper as you feel him press his body into your back, the length of him against your ass. He brushed his fingers over your shoulder, pushing your hair over your shoulder to bare the column of your neck to him.

You shivered as he pressed his lips to your throat, his hands skimming down your waist to your hips, his fingers hooking into your tights.

“Tony…?” you asked hesitantly as he pushed your tights and underwear down over your backside.

“You trust me, sweetheart?”

Your memory flickered to that desperately lost look in his eyes your first night together as he told you he didn’t know who to trust.

“You can trust me, Tony. You can trust me.”

“Always.”

“Then relax,” Tony says huskily, his hand sliding up your spine and under your shirt. He presses down, encouraging you to bend over, your stomach on the cool surface of the bench. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I got you, baby.”

You feel a flush of heat rekindle inside you at the new pet name, and a moan escapes you as he grips your ass with one hand. You hear his zipper lower slowly, your breath catching as you feel the head of his cock slide against your slit, brushing against your clit before settling at your entrance.

You whimpered, pushing back against him. He stopped you, his hands tightening on your hips.

“I need to hear you say it, Y/N. I want to hear you… oh….” He broke off in a groan as you wiggled your hips, and he gave your backside a light swat. “Behave yourself, sweetheart.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you joked breathlessly, and he chuckled.

“Come on now, sweetheart. Let me hear it…”

“Please, Tony…” you relented, your voice almost a whine. “Please, I need you…”

“Good girl,” he murmured, and you could picture his smile. The two of you let out long, heady moans as he slowly sheathed himself inside you. his hand flattened against the middle of your back as he withdrew, pushing you into the hard surface as he withdrew, almost entirely.

He thrust into you again, agonizingly slow, and you heard him hum appreciatively. “You really do have excellent taste in music.”

It took you a moment to register the opening lines of Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell, and you shivered as Tony pushed into you again. You might have rolled your eyes if he could see your face. “Tony, please, just fuck me already.”

“Your wish,” you could hear the roguish grin in his voice, and he thrust into you, hard. “FRIDAY, turn it up.”

Tony’s fucked himself into you hard as the volume rose, his thrusts almost in time with Idol’s beat. His hand fisted in your shirt, holding you in place and pulling at the material until you felt the collar bite into your throat. Your hands searched blindly for something to grab hold of as you felt the tension build in your lower belly again; your wrist hit his glass, sending it and the Ben and Jerry’s to the floor.

It shattered, no doubt sending broken glass and scotch everywhere, along with the half-melted ice cream, but Tony seemed undeterred; he gave a guttural laugh and another smack to your ass, slightly harder this time.

“Unh…” you grunted at the sensation, your eyes rolling back in your head. His hands took hold of your wrists, bringing them both to the small of your back.

“I thought I asked you to behave yourself,” he growled, holding them in place with one hand, the other returning to your waist. The hold arched your back and your breasts bounced with each thrust; even with your shirt and bra still in place, the movement made your nipples brush against the cool surface of the counter.

“Tony, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you bit out through clenched teeth, and he cursed, his fingers tickling your waist. “Oh, my god…”

His thrusts slowed immediately, and you whined, attempting to push back with your hips as he slipped out of you. His hand met your ass again with a smack before he gripped the cheek, massaging it lightly. Tony leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as he spoke in your ear.

“I need to see your face, sweetheart.”

“The couch?” You suggest, and he kissed your shoulder by way of answer, helping you stand.

“FRIDAY, take it down again,” he said, and the music became a quiet backing track to your actions. You still had your slippers on, but Tony took hold of your thighs, encouraging you to jump up and wrap them around his waist so he could carry you over the broken glass to the couch.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he told you as he lay you down, pulling your tights off completely. He tossed them to the floor as you pulled off your shirt; you parted your legs for him eagerly. Tony knelt between them, still fully dressed, and your breath shuddered as he pulled off his tie, his gaze holding yours.

You reached down to palm his erection as he removed his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt; his eyes closed and his breath caught. “You fucking wreck me, you know that?”

You smiled coquettishly, fingers sliding over his cum-slick cock. “How do you think I feel?”

Tony chuckled as his lips met your again; this time the kiss was languid, slow and sweet. His tongue mingled with yours, your fingers curling his sweat-damp hair. His hand travelled over your thigh, hooking your knee up over his hip. You kissed your way along his cheek and jaw to his ear, rolling the lobe teasingly between your teeth. He sighed into your neck at the sensation.

Tony angled his hips to slide the length of his cock between your labia, brushing against your clit with every slow stroke. He touched your hip, your waist, your breasts, with gentle fingers, each touch leaving sparks tingling under your skin. His lips never left yours for long, his goatee tickling your chin, then your cheek as it he pressed a kiss to your temple.

You arched under him; your whole body ached with need. This was somehow more agonizing, more arousing, more intense than the way he’d pounded into you; every whispering sensation left you burning for more.

You pushed your hips up into him, a moan catching in your throat as he slid into you again. Tony’s lips fell to your shoulder, parting against your skin. Bracing himself above you with one hand, the other came to rest possessively on your hip. His nose skimmed along your throat before his lips met yours again.

Hands gripping at his biceps, you hummed into his kiss, breaking away only when his hips found the right angle. Your head fell back, your moans answered only with the sound of flesh meeting flesh and the mix of nonsensical adoration and filthy commendations Tony murmured against your throat.

“…perfect…” he whispered, teeth grazing against your sweat-sheened skin. “…so fucking perfect…”

His hips broke their rhythm as the two of you steadily built to climax, your voice hoarse and your throat dry as you came. Tony’s fingers tightened on your hip as he followed you, the arm bracing him shaking slightly. He rolled off of you almost immediately, kissing your temple again, and you giggled lightly as he managed to roll you onto your side and pull you into his chest.

His arms curled around your waist, and one hand gave your breast a teasing squeeze before you swatted it away. His answering laugh tickled your neck and danced through your back, and you pulled away only long enough to make you both more comfortable; a cushion tucked under your heads and the throw from the back of the lounge thrown over you both.

Your legs tangled with his as you settled again, and you smiled as he settled his face into the crook of your neck. You felt his nose bump lightly against your hair, and his lips on your shoulder. You covered his hands with yours, almost experimentally, a blush building in your cheeks as he interlaced your fingers.

Infamous playboy Tony Stark was a cuddler.

“You okay?” he murmured. You arched your neck, turning your head to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. He smiled as you settled back in his arms, releasing your hand for a moment to pull your hair away from your neck. “Good. FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.” The AI replied, and the lights dimmed until the room was dark, and you closed your eyes.

You felt Tony’s lips move against your skin again in a faint whisper. “Missed you.”

***

“Mr. Stark,” FRIDAY’s pleasant voice pulled you from your sleep. You were still tangled on the couch with Tony, one hand still intertwined with his. The throw was halfway onto the floor, and the room was bright with natural light. Tony groaned beside you. “Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes has just arrived home from his outing with his old squad, sir.”

“Shit,” you muttered, trying to extricate yourself from under Tony’s stubborn arm. You’d gotten up in the middle of the night for water, and part of you blessed yourself for putting on your underwear and Tony’s button-down. Although, still not the best welcome-home image for Rhodey to walk in on Especially since, except for the throw, Tony was still completely naked. “Tony, for god sake…”

The bastard snickered sleepily against your back, and you froze as you heard Rhodey’s footsteps echoing over the marble floors.

“Tony, you in—what the hell did you do in here man?” you heard him call out, exasperated.

The man beside you sat up, running a hand through his hair. He yawned, grinning at his old friend over the back of the couch. “To be fair, that was Y/N’s fault.” You smacked him, still hidden from sight. His smirk widened as he looked down at you. “Wasn’t it?”

“Y/N…?” Rhodey asked in confusion, and you sighed.

“Damn it, Tony…” you sat up, giving Rhodey a sheepish smile, one hand trying to tame the back of your mostly-sleep mussed hair. “Hi, Rhodey.”

“Hi?” he replied. He had this amazing ability to look both confused and tired at the same time. “What am I looking at exactly? Are you two…?”

“Uh…”

“What you’re looking at is an attractive woman in a ridiculously overpriced shirt,” Tony said blithely, his arm snaking around your waist. You blushed, fastening another button over your chest. “Which I’d very much like to get her back out of, so—”

“Tony!” you admonished, the burning in your cheeks deepening. You were never going to be able to look Rhodey in the eye again. He ignored you, securing the throw around his waist and standing. He pulled you up with him, his arm slipping around your waist again, and you tugged the hem of his shirt lower.

“—you’re gonna have to tell me about your night with the rest of the Village People later.” Tony continued, his hand squeezing your side. “After we’ve showered.”

With that declared, Tony wrapped his hand around yours and tugged you away from the couch with a wink. You gave an embarrassed giggle, following him hastily out of the room without meeting Rhodey’s eye. You were halfway down the hall before you heard him shout.

“The Village People didn’t even have anyone from the military!”

.

.

.

.

tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @spacesuitsforemergency @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @magnificentmariposa @lol-you-thought @mikariell95

[noona-clock]

iKonic Fairy Tales: Snow White, Part 2

A modern fairy tale series in collaboration with @cramelot - stay tuned next week for the next story featuring a new member! ✨

Genre: College/Neighbor!AU

Pairing: Donghyuk x You

By Admin B

🍎Part 1, 2, 3, 4

So, you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about Donghyuk on the bus ride home that evening.

You wondered what he was like - was he as sweet as he seemed? What was he majoring in? Was he one of those spoiled rich kids? Most likely not because he hadn’t seemed offended or disgusted when you told him you rode the bus.

(Also, did he have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Either way, you lowkey hoped the answer was no. Not that you were interested or anything. I mean, you’d just met the guy. You’d talked to him for, like, two minutes. But he was cute! A girl could dream, right?)

When you arrived at The Queen’s house the following day, you informed the kids of your encounter with their new neighbor, and they begged and pleaded to go over and play pinball. Penelope even lifted her head from the kitchen table where she was currently dozing off to say, “Yeah, please, can we go?”

“Did you ask your mom?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

All seven children let out a defeated sigh in unison, their shoulders sagging.

So, that was a ‘no.’

“Believe me, I would love to go over there,” you assured them, reaching out to ruffle Eddie’s hair. “But I don’t want to do anything your mom doesn’t know about.”

“She’s so mean,” Piper grumbled. The corners of her lips were pulled down into the cutest frown you’d ever seen, and you had to hold yourself back from letting out a giggle.

“She’s just worried about your safety!” you rebutted. “And she’s your mother, so be thankful for her.”

“I wish you - *achoo!* - were our mother.”

“Bless you, Billy. Well, I’m not your mother, but I am your nanny. And that’s almost as good,” you grinned, reaching out to pinch his cheek gently.

“Wait, why would you love to go over there?” Roy asked suspiciously. “Do you have a crush on him?”

You heard about five gasps, and everyone besides Piper and Penelope crowded around you, jumping up and down and teasing you.

“I don’t!” you laughed. “I don’t even know him.”

“But you think he’s cute, right?” Eddie beamed up at you, and your heart melted a little. You’d never met anyone with a smile as sweet as Eddie’s.

Well... except maybe Donghyuk.

“I mean, yes. He’s very good-looking.”

“So, go over and talk to him!” Otis urged.

“No! You guys need to get your homework done, not worry about my love life.” You began herding them all toward the kitchen table so they could get started on their work and, hopefully, leave you alone. For the time being.

As the evening progressed, you were not surprised one bit to find you had to continue to combat accusations of your crush on Donghyuk. You avoided the kids’ comments and questions and teasing, and they honestly really only shut their sweet mouths when their mother came home from work.

You let out a sigh when you closed the door behind you, as you usually did. But today, you were simply glad to be away from the kids’ pestering.

You hadn’t even made it halfway down the driveway when you saw him, though.

Donghyuk.

Obviously.

He was leaning against his mailbox, and he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact he was waiting for you.

“Hi,” you greeted when you got close enough.

“Hey, I really don’t want you to think I’m being creepy,” he began, causing a little giggle to bubble up in your throat. “I just didn’t want you to have to walk down the road by yourself. But if you don’t want me to, that’s totally fine. I just... I mean, there’s no one else in this neighborhood who’s my age.”

“Okay,” you chuckled. “Yes, you may walk me down to the bus stop. But, just so you know, I do have pepper spray in my bag, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Noted.” He looked somewhat scared but also somewhat in awe of you.

When he fell into step next to you, you took a breath, feeling the word vomit making its way up into your mouth.

You were nervous, of course. A cute guy was walking you to the bus stop. You hadn’t ever really had a boyfriend before or even someone who was interested in becoming your boyfriend.

And when you were nervous, you couldn’t really control your conversation.

You began to ask him all the little things - favorite movie and favorite food and stuff - because you knew if you asked him the big things, you’d feel the need to reciprocate and tell him your big things.

One surefire way to scare someone off? Tell them your tragic life story the day after you meet them.

So you kept things as light and casual as you could as far as the ‘getting to know you’ stuff.

And when Donghyuk joined you on your walk again the next evening, you continued on with your plan.

And the next evening, and the next evening, and the next...

After almost two weeks, you felt like you knew just about everything light and casual there was to know about Donghyuk. You could definitely say the two of you were friends now, and... you could definitely say you had a crush on him.

He was as sweet as he’d seemed when you first met him, plus he was smart, funny, and very thoughtful.

You honestly couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you headed up the driveway tonight, seeing Donghyuk waiting for you as he always was.

This time, though, he was throwing something very gently up into the air over and over again, catching it easily in his hand. It looked like a baseball or something, but when you reached him, he held it out to you.

“Snack?” he asked. “Thought maybe you’d be hungry.”

What you’d thought was a baseball actually turned out to be a shiny, red apple, so you let out an awkward chuckle and shook your head.

“I’m allergic to apples, actually,” you told him.

“Oh, sorry!” he cried immediately, throwing the apple over his shoulder as quickly as he could.

“No, it’s fine,” you assured him with a soft laugh, watching to make sure the apple didn’t hit anything (thankfully, it landed in his front yard with a soft thud). “It’s not a common food to be allergic to, really.”

“Do you have a medical bracelet or anything?” Donghyuk asked, his brow furrowed as he gently grabbed your wrist to see. “An Epi-Pen?”

“No and yes. Don’t worry, I’ve been allergic my whole life. I know how to handle it.”

“Sorry,” he murmured with a very shy, embarrassed grin. “I’m a medical student, so it just kind of comes naturally.”

“A medical student?” you asked, your eyebrows shooting halfway up your forehead.

“Well, pre-med.”

“That’s really impressive.”

“Yeah...”

You could tell Donghyuk didn’t necessarily think so, so you nudged him lightly with your elbow. “What’s up?” you asked softly.

“Nothing,” he assured you with a shake of his head. “Just... it’s what my parents wanted. But it’s fine. They’re not making me pay rent, and they’re covering all my school expenses, so... Can’t really complain, y’know?”

You simply nodded, nudging him again, though this nudge was more of a comforting, supportive nudge.

While you were always an advocate of following your heart and your dreams, you couldn’t really blame him for majoring in what his parents wanted.

To be honest, you would do anything to have your parents here to tell you what to major in.

When you reached the bus stop a few minutes later, you realized you hadn’t said anything since the exchange about Donghyuk’s major.

But before you could even take a breath to break the silence, you suddenly felt his fingers brush against the back of your hand, and your head snapped up to look at him.

“Are... you okay?” he asked, his voice just barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?” His question pulled you out of your little trance, and you pulled your lips into a smile as you looked over at him. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You’re not usually this quiet.”

“Yeah, I just... I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

“So... you’re not nervous around me anymore?”

“No, not really.”

“Does that mean you would let me drive you home?”

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and you shrugged coyly. “Maybe...”

The smile which appeared on Donghyuk’s face was honestly bright enough to power three of these huge mansions for the next two months. And it was enough to make your heart skip about five beats.

“Should I go back and get my car? I’ll run home and come and pick you up in two minutes.”

While you were still a bit wary (only because Donghyuk finding out you lived in a tiny, old apartment complex could prove to be just a bit embarrassing), you still couldn’t stop yourself from nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Donghyuk grinned. “I promise. Don’t move.”

“Where would I go?” you chuckled as he turned around and began jogging back down the street.

You watched him for a few moments, biting your lip to keep your smile from becoming too idiotic. And just as you were turning away, planning to head to the bus stop to sit down, you suddenly heard or felt or saw someone.

It all happened so quickly, you weren’t really sure how you knew what was going on.

All you knew was a person had grabbed you and was trying to wrangle your bag away from you.

You cried out, letting out a high-pitched scream before the person put his hand over your mouth to stifle your voice. He was still trying to take your bag so even when you tried to reach in for your pepper spray, you couldn’t manage to get to it. You were also trying desperately to kick or punch or elbow him away, but everything was such a blur, you couldn’t really make heads or tails of what you were actually doing.

As you flung your arms out as hard as you could in an attempt to push him away, you felt his weight suddenly disappear.

Oh, wow!

You’d done it!

...Oh, wait.

Never mind.

Donghyuk had, apparently, run back and had grabbed the thief by his shirt collar.

Your heart was already racing from the sudden attack, but it was racing even more as you watched Donghyuk attempting to fight the guy off. He threw a couple punches and was trying to tackle him to the ground when the thief managed to escape and run away.

Once he was out of sight, Donghyuk rushed over to you, breathing heavily from his efforts. “Are you all right?!” he asked, reaching out to put his hands on your arms.

“Y--yeah,” you answered with a slight nod.

I mean, besides the fact you were terrified, yeah, you were fine.

It must have been very obvious you were lying because Donghyuk didn’t hesitate in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he murmured as he began to rub your back comfortingly.

Okay, now your heart was racing even faster than it had been.

Because.

Donghyuk’s chest.

Was, like.

Really nice.

You could feel his muscles underneath his shirt, and the way his arms were holding you... Goodness. You felt so safe and secure, and you literally never wanted him to stop hugging you.

Ever.

“Oh, geez, your heart is pounding,” he whispered, hugging you even tighter, probably in an attempt to make you calm down. “You’re shaking.”

Instead of replying, telling him why your heart was pounding, why you were shaking... you simply curled your arms up against his chest and buried your face in his neck. I mean, you were here! You might as well take advantage of it, right?! (P.S. You were not usually this forward, so you were going to blame this behavior on almost being mugged just a few minutes ago. You were in shock. Yep, that was it!)

“I’m definitely driving you home every day from now on, okay?” he told you. You felt him pressing his nose into your hair, and it sent shivers down your spine. “No arguments.”

You simply nodded, taking a deep breath and realizing just how good he smelled. Of course, he did. He was rich. Rich people always smelled amazing.

After what seemed like ten days of standing there, reveling in the feeling of being in Donghyuk’s amazing arms, you took a deep breath and began to pull away.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your forehead wrinkled as you locked your gaze on his.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he assured you as he rubbed his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm. “I did what I had to do.”

“I tried to get my pepper spray out, but he --”

“I’m just glad I was still close enough to get here in time,” he interrupted. He was looking at you as if to say ‘Try not to worry about it - you did what you could.’

“Me, too,” you breathed, tempted to just go back in for another hug. But you knew you couldn’t just keep standing out here. You had to go home eventually. “You’ll... you’ll take me home?”

“Of course,” he answered immediately. “Come on, let’s go.”

He put an arm around your shoulders and began guiding you back to his house, keeping you close to him as you walked and not letting you get even an inch farther from his side the whole way there.

And you were certainly okay with that.

Part 3

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