#proving once again how long it takes a bish to write a thing

[littleferal]

Sitting here thinking of Frankie spilled out across crisp white sheets like a sunset, all tanned skin and loose-limbed and completely relaxed. I just want to gather him up in my arms and kiss him for as long as he’ll let me.

oh my dear @softanon i looked at this ask so many times and im so in love with it 🥺 let the boys be soft, let them be loved and doted on as well!! 💛💛💛

1.6k of fluff below the cut, i hope it was worth the wait :")

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

You find Frankie sprawled out face-down across the bed, the clean and crisp bed sheets beneath him barely rumpled. It’s as if he simply lay down and fell straight asleep. He hasn’t even bothered to get dressed again properly after his shower, the black boxer shorts the only item of clothing on him, contrasting beautifully with his tanned skin and the white sheets. You find yourself feeling thankful there isn’t a clear view into your bedroom, because that would mean closing the curtains and you don’t want to - the late summer light is cast over Frankie in a hazed block, highlighting the broadness of his back. He faces away from it - face to the door - on his side of the bed, splayed limbs and his face squished against the pillow, your own pulled close enough he can no doubt smell it. (And that’s likely why).

As you lean against the doorframe watching you think that at least for now all you want to do is watch and bask in the peaceful ambience of the room. The dust motes in the evening light, the gentle hum of life somewhere outside. To let this moment be and take comfort in knowing that right now Frankie is here and he’s safe and he’s resting. You don’t want to disturb his rest - god knows he needs it - but seeing him like this, all loose-limbed and completed relaxed, you do want to be closer. You want to admire him, already mentally tracing lines down the softly defined muscles of his back, remembering the places where the few freckles from his afternoons in the sun are scattered across his shoulders. You want to gather him up in your arms, to kiss your way across the bared skin, shower him in affection and maybe - just maybe - that’d be a kind of rest too, to be wrapped up in your love.

In the end your own selfish desires win, drawing you over to the bed where you settle down next to him, at just the right distance that you think he might not have noticed the dip in the mattress. He does. Sensing you even when he’s mostly asleep Frankie makes a soft noise in the back of his throat before the hand nearest starts to search for you. Blindly patting and feeling his way across the bed, when Frankie finds your thigh his fingers slip up and over, gripping lightly into your soft skin so it dimples beneath his touch. He looks so peaceful you hardly dare to move in case it disturbs him again. But when he makes another noise and a gentle tug on your leg you go willingly. You settle yourself right alongside him then gently take his larger hand in your own, allowing him to sleepily shift and interlace his fingers alongside yours until he’s happy. Raising the paired hands to your lips you press soft kisses across his knuckles. He hums in content at the feeling, turning his face upward towards you though his eyes remain closed.

“Frankie?” He makes a quiet acknowledging noise. “You there?”

“Mmmmhm.” Comes the sound again, this time paired with a quick squeeze of your hand.

“You doing ok?”

He hums in response before, “tired.” Comes the reply.

“Yeah. You did a lot today didn’t you? You must have worked hard, I know it. Baby I’m proud of you.” At your words Frankie makes a small pained noise before pulling himself over, hiding his face fully against your leg, his arm over your lap and clinging to your other hip. “That kind of day?” He nods slowly against you, his nose dragging against your thigh with the movement. “Ok. I’m here.”

This you can do.

With one hand you cup the back of his skull, fingers threading through his still-damp curls and drawing mindless circles and patterns. It’s a gesture he’s done to you so many times that you know first hand the kind of comfort it brings, hoping it’ll do the same for him. Your other hand you allow to slide down onto his back, fingers spread to just feel him for a moment and feel his warmth. You study the contrasts of the two of you, how broad his back is under your hand, and how he appears even bigger when he sighs at the contact, pushing up into you ever so slightly before he finds himself too heavy and drops back down.

You lose yourself to it - the touch and how it soothes you both - and time drifts to feel molasses slow in the fading golden sunlight. Frankie’s breathing is a steady cadence, puffs of warm air against your leg, his back rising and falling under your hand as he breathes in and lets it out, becoming a comforting weight across you. You slowly admire him beneath you, allowing your fingers to trace up and down his muscles like you’d thought about, rubbing his back in a hope to soothe him before walking your fingers step by step from one freckle to the next. Frankie shivers at the tickle, grumbling slightly as he holds you tighter.

“Alright, alright,” You murmur. “didn’t mean you tickle you, softie.” He gives a huff of amusement at the endearment, and a small nuzzle against you in thanks for stopping as you run firm strokes over his back to ease the sensation.

Then your hands begin to wander on their own accord; finding what you know are his usual tight spots along his broad shoulders and at the base of his neck, digging your thumbs in and working to ease the tension. Frankie hums then lifts himself to shuffle even closer to you again. He gives a passing kiss to your stomach before resting his head on your other thigh and letting himself become heavy over you.

Once he’s settled you return to your work. You follow familiar tracks down his back, walking your thumbs down either side of his spine before repeating with long strokes and pressing down around and to his stomach. Over and over you go, firmly pressing into him until he stops shifting with the over-sensitivity of it. It’s hard to do some of it right with the angle, so you settle for the best you can and center in on what you know is usually tight. The worst is generally up his neck, the tension from holding his shoulders wrong causing permanent tightness there. You dig in, using your fingers to roll the muscles until they yield, mindful every time Frankie breathes hard against you. Until one time it catches and you stop, instead rubbing over the area to relieve the ache. You’re working up to finishing the short massage when Frankie notices and speaks up.

“Don’t stop.” It’s said so quietly you barely catch it, muffled as it is against your skin.

“What was that?” Maybe a lesser man would have changed his words, postured and put on a front. But Frankie - your kind and ever-open Frankie - only rolls his head to the side, cracks his eyes open to hold your gaze and repeats it.

“Please don’t stop querida.”

At his reassurance you shake your head gently in reply, then, “I won’t baby. ‘m right here, I got you.” His lips quirk up at the corners at your easy pet-name, enough to round his cheeks and soften his eyes as they drift back shut, the smile lingering a fraction longer before he pulls into you again.

When you return to it you work in earnest now but in broader pressures - pressing the heels of your hands into his back, pushing long strokes downwards and working the knots out. Frankie huffs at the ache and breathes out in measured breaths whenever you find something particularly tight that sends bright flashes of pain through his body. You’re mindful but know he needs it, evident in how the more you work the heavier he gets against you. Each passing of your hands makes the coil of his tension loosen more and more until he’s finally lying completely boneless against you.

“Alright,” You murmur, folding yourself down over him enough to press a kiss to his forehead. “Come on then love.” An eye cracks open at your words, a small groan of protest breaking the silence.

“Don’t stop…sleep.” Is all he mumbles in reply.

“I know Frankie. Sleep for both of us. That’s what I meant.”

It’s a bit of work to rearrange the pair of you, Frankie nothing but a mumbling weight, quietly protesting the whole shift. But as soon as you are both laying down facing each other he slots his leg between yours immediately, fitting his body alongside you like a paired puzzle piece. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck Frankie settles against you with a sigh. He’s all heavy limbs - an arm thrown over your waist and crooked up to reach for your shoulder, or maybe your head, but there’s no grip to his fingers, his leg trying to pull you even closer. It puts him back in reach for soft kisses, which you gently press against his forehead over and over, loving the reaction it gets from him - a soft huff as he pushes his face down each time, his beard rubbing at your skin but it’s worth it (like always). Your fingers thread again through his curls, dry enough now they’ve gone a bit wispy at the ends. You play with the individual strands, rolling them between your fingers until he shivers at the feeling against his scalp.

“Sleep.” And this time he truly sounds on the edge of it.

“Sleep.” You agree, snuggling in to enjoy his presence and the last of the day’s sun.

tell me your soft thoughts 🌙 + fluffy friday + my masterlist

[shadyteacup]

Hi! Im the one req 7 for chuuya sorry i didint specified, i just realized it. Can i get angst prompt 7 for chuuya?

Hiya! This pained me to write, so I made it fluffy at the end... sorry if u were looking for pure angst! I can't go to sleep peacefully peacefully after writing angst, I need to clutch my soft toys and cry myself to sleep..

Warnings: Angst to fluff, maybe a swear word at the end.. dw, it's just "bish", but like the actual word.

Word count: 2006 😳yes, I got carried away

Nakahara Chuuya + “Please wake up”

Forewarning

“Don’t move, Chu.”

You grumbled against his chest. It was yet another lazy morning for the two of you. Lazy mornings consisted of waking up late, cuddling on the bed till lunch time, getting dressed and having dinner at some exotic place, going for a long drive, then coming back home. It was a perfect day for a traditional lazy day, except for the fact it was a weekday.

Chuuya sighed. He had to get to work, and so did you. You both couldn’t afford to miss any workdays, considering that you both worked for the same organization, one that didn’t hesitate to punish for untimely work. Chuuya was an executive, and so were you. You both had multiple solo missions planned out for today and one mission wherein you both had to team up. It was going to be quite a busy day, and Chuuya wanted nothing more than to just get it all over with. He was looking forward to some lazy cuddles in the evening, after both of your jobs were done.

“We have to get dressed, dove.”

He tried reasoning with you. You were a workaholic, just like him. It surprised him to see this lazy side of you. But then again, you must be tired, he thought.

“I know. But let’s bunk today!”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, hoping to convince him.

Chuckling, he pet your head affectionately.

“The mafia isn’t some school that you could just bunk. Besides, don’t you love working?”

You frowned at that. You were feeling weird today. It’s like something was forewarning you. But about what?

“I just have a bad feeling about today. I don’t know why, but I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

He sighed. He was never one to believe I such things. That was why you weren’t telling him until now.

“We work in the mafia. How worse can it get?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

You smiled, getting up to get ready.

....

“The target is in the warehouse.”

Chuuya said to you. You both were currently seated in Chuuya’ s car, parked on a hill. Your stakeout point had a clear view of an abandoned warehouse. Apparently, it was the location where a rival gang was coordinating with some members of the mafia and stealing their goods. You both had already executed the moles and had sent in one of your trusted members as a pretend mole. He would send you both a signal when he felt that the security was the weakest at the entrance. You both would then attack. He was supposed to cause a commotion in there, resulting in majority of the guards to rush inside and leave the entrance wide open for you two. Your men had already sealed all exits to ensure no one got out. Now you were both waiting for the signal.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

Chuuya pouted at your jab.

“I was just being thorough!”

“By stating the obvious?”

“You’re so mean.”

“Says the angry redhead.”

“What has my hair got to do with anything?!”

“Your hair has got to do with everything! I-”

A sharp sound was heard. Both you and Chuuya were blinded for a second as white filled your vision. You felt your torso pinch a little. It almost felt like someone was sticking a few needles into your tummy. You heard screams. They sounded frantic. A few moments later, your vision cleared, and you saw yourself floating in the air, a frantic Chuuya saying something to you. It all sounded mangled and mixed up. If you could have laughed at the moment, you would have laughed at how funny he sounded.

The screams had turned to cries, now. You were so confused. Who was crying? And why was Chuuya pressing down on your stomach?

Looking down, you saw the blood. There was blood everywhere. It had completely soaked your shirt. Chuuya was using his ability and his hands to keep it in. He seemed hurried. His eyes were watery, and streams of tears were flowing down his cheeks.

Finally understanding the situation, you realised that you were injured. Looking down at your torso, you saw the two bullet wounds. And now, you finally felt them. The pain was overwhelming. It rushed in like water at the breaking of a dam. It completely filled you up. You now realised that those cries of pain were actually your own. You wished to have never woken from your daze. You wanted to remain oblivious. You wanted the pain to go back to mere pinpricks. It was too much. Succumbing to the enormous pain, you let your eyes shut close. You realised that your body was going to sleep. Maybe for the last time.

....

Chuuya sat in a chair next to your sleeping form. You were lying unconscious on the clean white sheets of the hospital bed. Your entire torso was covered in bandages. You had taken two bullets, one in the side and one right next to your belly button. The doctors were able to save you in time, and it was a matter of time till you gained consciousness.

Chuuya held his face in his hands. The memories of just moments prior to visiting the hospital kept running through his head. He kept seeing flashes of your blood oozing out of your body. He kept remembering the way your eyes had glazed over while he tried to apply pressure on your wounds. There was so much blood. His mere two hands were proving to be inefficient. So, he had activated his ability to push the blood back in. He had no clue if that had helped. He remembered activating his ability the moment you had let out a blood curdling scream. He had levitated you both out of the car and high up in the night sky.

He should have listened to you. Your forewarnings were right. Something terrible had ended up happening. The mole he had sent inside was found murdered by the backup team, and the head of the organization had fled. His men had taken up sniping positions all across the hills. Two of them had shot you at once. He remembered going on a mad spree and pelting boulders at all the men in his sight using his ability right before he flew to the hospital with you in his arms.

“Has she gained consciousness?”, the doctor asked as she peeked in. Chuuya had asked all medical personnel to leave him alone with his sweetheart, a little too passionately, after they were done treating you, and hence the poor doctor was a tad bit scared to check up on your vitals.

Chuuya whipped his head up.

“No.”

The doctor scrunched her brows in worry. Rushing in, she did some tests.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if the patient doesn’t wake up in another hour, we will have to declare a coma condition.”

“What?!”

The doctor jumped at his outburst, but answered him, nonetheless.

“The body is behaving as if it is already in coma. This can also be because it is repairing itself. It doesn’t necessarily have to be coma.”

She sighed.

“But, if the patient retains this state of unconsciousness, we will have to rule out a natural healing process. I suggest you try to communicate with the patient. Sit close, hold hands, maintain physical contact. Try speaking. That way, maybe the body will react to a familiar scent, touch or voice, and gain consciousness.”

Chuuya gulped, worried, and nodded.

“I understand.”

He shakily made his way to your face, observing your serene features. He hesitantly put your hair behind your ear, breathing unsteadily. He felt immense guilt and anger. He was guilty of not paying your uneasiness an ear, and he was angry because he couldn’t save you. If only he had been more vigilant, more aware of his surroundings, he would have been able to smell a rat.

“I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have been able to protect you.”

He gasped inaudibly, trying to keep his sobs in. He couldn’t stop the tears. They flowed freely down his cheeks, a symbol of his immense fear of losing you. He couldn’t bear the idea of loosing you. It might be selfish of him, but he wanted you to live, because God-forbid, if you didn’t, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He knew that if such a devastating situation ever occurred, he would lose all sanity and go mad. He would lose his mental balance and completely fall off the edge. He couldn’t bear to be separated from you for two days, forget the rest of his lifetime.

He caressed your cheek, smiling bitterly at your sleeping form. Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, he let himself truly cry. He let out all his emotions into your hair. He found comfort in your warmth. He has always felt the safest in your embrace. That’s where he could truly be himself.

He didn’t realise how long it had been when he began talking to you. Telling you how much he loved you and how he couldn’t live without you. He pondered on how he would take his life if you left him.

“I’d have to go to that stupid mackerel for guidance. But then again, he has been unsuccessful in killing himself for 22 years. He’s probably the worst suicidal guy out there.”

He was lying next to you now, cradling your frail form in his arms.

The doctor waltzed in, a serious and sorrowful expression straining her pretty features.

“Nakahara-san, I’m so sorry.”

Chuuya gritted his teeth, holding onto you tighter.

“No! There’s still a chance that-”

“Its hopeless. The patient has already been in this state for 16 hours.”

“16 hours?”

The doctor smiled sympathetically.

“I gave you a lot more time. I thought maybe the constant contact would help. But sadly, it’s out of our hands now.”

Chuuya sat up, holding your face in his large palms.

“Wake up! Wake up, damnit!”

He shook you gently, desperate to get any kind of reaction out of you.

“Nakahara-san! Please get away from the patient! You mustn’t cause any harm! Security?!”

The doctor rushed forward to pull Chuuya off of you, but he held onto you. He grabbed your arms, looping his own around them and pulling you towards him.

“Wake up!”

He rested his face on your chest, sobs escaping him.

“Please... please wake up...”

The doctor reached forward to clasp his shoulder, trying to pry him off of you.

A large gasp followed by couple of coughs were heard.

You took in a large breath, trying to swallow. Your throat was dry and scratchy.

“Y/N!”

Looking up, you saw Chuuya holding you in his arms, a relieved and surprised expression on his elegant features.

“Hey.”

Your voice sounded raspy, but it was music to his ears.

He engulfed you in a hug, one that knocked the air out of your lungs.

“She’s still a patient!”

The doctor reprimanded as the security guards pulled Chuuya off of you.

You smiled at the tiny ginger.

“I’m alive, Chu. Stop being dramatic.”

Chuuya laughed at your carefree attitude. He didn’t resist the men as they pulled him out of the room. He was relieved to see you awake. He didn’t care about anything else. Just as he was about to leave, you spoke up.

“Call Gin and tell her that I’m not dead!”

“You don’t need to call me, idiot. I was waiting right outside.”

You smiled as she walked in, giving you a hug.

“Why does she get to go in but not me?!”

Chuuya whined.

“Hey Gin, guess what?”

Gin smiled at you, sitting at the edge of your bed at the nurses did their check-ups.

“What?”

“I’m alive, bitch!”

Your snickers could be heard till the hallway, where the rest of your friends were seated. Shaking his head, Tachihara snickered.

“Good ol’ Y/N.”

[gyllenhaalstories]

Hey could you write about Jake accidentally finding out about your spanking kink by, you know, spanking you as a joke and then getting really turned in when he hears your moan... It's a concept.

can jake accidentally find out about all my kinks and use them against me? asking for a friend, ya know. but oh my loki this is hot the house. its a concept a beautiful concept. WARNINGS: spanking, dom/sub, jake being a little bish about it and enjoying it way too much. NOTES: the only motivation that could convince me to work on my essays from now on is jake giving me a spanking as a reward for typing a sentence so i apologize if i poured my heart and soul into this. 

HAPPY LITTLE ACCIDENT

“Honey, are you done yet? You love this movie!” Jake said, sitting in the living room in front of Professor Marston and the Wonder Women. 

You loved this movie. For so many reasons, although all you could say to him was that you found Luke Evans very attractive. It was true, but there was so much more to it... In brief, it was kinky and you liked it like that. 

“You’re missing all the good parts!” Jake teased you, knowing you deserved a break after working for so long in your office.  

You sighed and closed your laptop, throwing on your desk your papers and pens. This essay could wait. You walked in front of him, hoping to squeeze against his body on the couch and watch the rest of the movie with him. 

Jake smirked at you and gave your butt a playful slap as you passed by, hiding the screen for a short moment. It was not particularly gentle, nor hard. It was the perfect way to get you to react.

“Fuck!” You moaned when your whole body flinched at his touch. Your cheeks were red as you sat down, trying to ignore what just happened. That beautiful feeling of his hand slapping you... You had been dreaming of it since the first time you two made love. You were too scared to discuss your fantasy with him. Jake was understanding and open to trying all kinds of things, the box of toys hiding in your wardrobe proved it, but you were always hesitant to bring things up. Most of the time, you did not need too, because he guessed about your kinks or, even better, shared the same ones as you.

He knew you all too well, the way you chivered against his hand and how your eyes shut the same way they did when he bit on your skin, leaving you a bruised hickey. “Won’t you look at that happy little accident...” Jake commented, brushing his thumb over his bottom lip as the sound of your moan resonated in his head. “Care to explain what just happened?” 

“I’d rather not.” You coughed, feeling your cheeks getting darker and your thighs closing tighter. 

“I don’t like when you hide things from me, Y/N.” The devilish smirk he wore on his face changed into a more serious expression. “Come here.” He did not even let you protest and moved you, so you were laying on your stomach, on his lap. He pulled down on your pyjama pants to reveal the soft skin of your backside. His hand left a red mark on it, and it was now his turn to moan at the view.

You gasped when he switched positions, so effortlessly. Your fingertips gripped on the fabric of his jeans while you bit on your lip. Dreams really do come true.

“Been dreaming about this too, princess? About leaving your ass so red you can’t even sit?” Jake was caressing your skin, until he abruptly slid a finger between your folds, taking in how soaked you were. “I spank you once and you get all wet for me. Naughty girl.”

Your wetness earned you a series of gentle slaps, an equal number on each cheek. You whimpered at each blow, flinching at the stingy feeling left on your skin. Jake set his free hand down on the small of your back to keep you in place.

“Look at that pretty shade of pink, it’s my favourite color now... Unless I make it red.” It was not a question, more like a dare to himself. The intensity of the slaps increased a notch as he kept spanking you. He would gently rub your skin, or even lean down to press wet kisses on the darkest spots. “Do you like that, princess? Like when I give you a spanking?”

“Yes, I — fuck, I love it!” You were so incoherent, basically screaming the words at him. You wanted to speak more, but you felt his long fingers sliding between your closed thighs, making just enough room to reach down and rub on your clit.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” Jake answered and resumed to spanking you a few times, while rubbing your clit as best and as good as he could until he noticed that your moans were cut by your heavy and erratic breaths. Your legs, too, started shaking against the couch and, just like that, you came hard on his lap. He took a moment to take in the view, your ass so red, his fingers so wet and your body glistening with a thin layer of sweat from your orgasm. “What do you say after coming so nice for me?”

You had to take a moment to regain your senses after the wave of pleasure, and beautiful pain, that hit you. “Thank you, Daddy.” You breathed out.

“You’re very welcome. You’re such a good princess for Daddy.” He kept soothing your skin with gentle caresses until he helped you turn around on him. You were curling up against him, and he held your legs up like he would hold you bridal style to avoid too much contact with your bruised skin.

“I will never hide anything from you again.”

[steebharringt0n]

sanctuary - part 5

summary: Subject 001. That’s what you’ve been called your whole life. You’ve known nothing but pain, violence, and isolation. You were their greatest secret weapon, but when your final mission is to ensure the end of the universe, you escape to Hawkins, Indiana to team up with Eleven and to put an end to all this chaos, once and for all - you just never expected to fall in love with the resident bad boy along the way.

rating: m

pairing: billy hargrove x reader

warning: graphic violence, slurs, abuse, curse words.

A/N: I am still completely floored by all your responses, once again thank you, thank you, thank you. PLEASE NOTE! I could not tag some of you! I think you have to update your tumblr settings to allow me to tag you! So if you asked me to tag you and you are not in this list, please check your tumblr settings!

tagged list: @thefandomzoneisdangerous @jujurandy @littlebrownngirl @harduy @art-flirt @bish-ima-clown @lynnskata @snakelaufeyson @creativedogs @nightshade7117 @letsloveimagines @sorry-didnt-mean-to-stab-you @sighsophiia @blackravena @universefinds @jesus-jagiya @justatadbonkers @thedarkartsstuff @asheseiler @rad-lad-gone-mad @sophiajiyeon @sweetamren @frostygilbert @hufflepuff-writings @strangerchalamet @frenchzodiacgirl @sadgirlnumber92899 @all-american-fangirl @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @solfolgi @magnitude101999

001. prologue 002. firestarter 003. spitfire 004. friend

--- 005. sister

“Mike can you please pass the marshmallows?”

Eleven sighed, looking at her boyfriend - who was fully engrossed in telling a story to Will - across the campfire.

“Mike?”

No answer.

Max nudged her on the side, “Just use your powers - he’s too caught up in telling Will what happened in gym last week - which by the way was totally gross” Max shuddered at the story, remembering what Lucas had told her in very graphic detail. Eleven nodded at Max, she turned her attention to the bag of marshmallows by Mike’s leg, staring at it in complete concentration. She inhaled sharply, and the bag started to move towards her. She felt her nose start to trickle with blood as Max quickly grabbed a napkin and handed it to her.

Mike stopped mid-story, noticing the floating back of marshmallows out of the corner of his eye, and turned his attention to his girlfriend, frowning, “Hey, I could have gotten that for you”

“She called your name like 3 times nimrod” Max spoke with a dry tone. 

Eleven quickly dabbed away at her nose, catching the bag of marshmallows as they landed in her hand. “It’s okay Mike, I didn’t want to interrupt you”

“Hey, hey hey! What did we say about using your powers! This is a strictly no power camping trip!” Hopper suddenly thundered, a tinge of anger in his voice. He appeared from one of the 3 tents that surrounded the campfire. Eleven looked up at her father, giving him an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry Hop” she quietly spoke. 

He sat down next to her, taking the bag of marshmallows from her lap and shoving one in his mouth. “This is supposed to be a relaxing weekend with your friends alright?” his tone much more calm with his daughter.

Eleven nodded quietly, taking the bag back from Hopper’s lap and grabbing a marshmallow and shoving one on her stick. She grabbed the stick and outstretched her hand so that the marshmallow hovered right above the flame.

“Careful El, don’t put it too much in the fire or it’ll burn and burnt marshmallows are not tasty” Mike chided in.

“Hey, hey, hey! Guess who’s back with dinner!” a voice suddenly announced from the trees behind Mike and Will. Out of the darkness appeared Steve, Lucas and Dustin, a triumphant smile on their faces. They all had fishing rods under their arms, but Steve was carrying a large cooler. He placed it near the fireplace, landing with a loud thud.

“Oh shit, you guys actually caught something?!” Max exclaimed, walking over and opening the cooler.

“Why must you always doubt us Max?” Lucas huffed, taking a seat next Mike.

“Because you’re boys, and boys are always to be doubted” she retorted back. She glanced into the cooler and saw 4 large cods. She loved her friends - her guy friends, but she would get sick of their nonsense every now and then. She loved that she found a friend in Eleven. Although Eleven was still learning about the outside world, she didn’t mind teaching her a thing or two.

“Okay, wow rude Max, I’ve been nothing but nice to you” Steve interjected, taking a seat next to Hopper and grabbing a stick near the fire. He reached over Hopper’s lap and grabbed the bag of marshmallows out of Eleven’s lap, earning him a dirty look from her.

“You know you could have, asked her for the bag right?” Hopper stated.

Steve shrugged, shoving 3 marshmallows in his mouth, “This is quicker”

Max scoffed, “And you wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend”

“Okay one, ow, two aren’t you like 12? What do you know about boys?” Steve questioned, shoving more marshmallows in his mouth.

“Uh one, I’m 14, and two I’ve been dating Lucas for the past couple of months, I know plenty about boys … “ she trailed off, looking over to Lucas and Dustin who were engaging in a heated game of Chubby Bunny, shoving as many marshmallows they could in their mouth. Max rolled her eyes, “See what I mean?” she gestured over to them.

“Hey, hey! Idiots! Stop shoving marshmallows in your mouth, you’re going to choke!” Hopper exclaimed, getting up from his seat and snatching the extra bag of marshmallows off of Lucas’s lap. The two boys frowned, but were hard to take serious since their cheeks were all puffed up from all the marshmallows shoved in there. 

Eleven quietly stood up and walked over to Will, who was surveying the chaos unfolding around them. Eleven liked Will, she enjoyed his calm presence. It was refreshing considering that Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Max could all be wildcards when they wanted. But not Will, he was always quiet, always standing in the background. Eleven took a seat next to him, a soft smile on her face as she adjusted her shirt.

“It’s nice isn’t it? To be away from it all for a bit” Will commented to her, continuing to watch as Max and Steve bicker, and Hopper scold Lucas and Dustin.

Eleven nodded, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, “Yes … I like being with friends, outside, I don’t have to hide”

Will nodded. He had been through a lot these last couple of months. With the mind-flayer taking over his body, Joyce though it’d be a perfect idea to go camping with his friends. It would be a good way for him to reset with those closest to him. That didn’t stop his nightmares though. His PTSD would occasionally reappear in the smallest way. Whether it be something tickling his neck, or a cold draft through his bedroom. He always felt like he was being watched by it - waiting for the right time to reappear and strike again.

“Have you been doing okay Will?” Eleven asked, turning her gaze to the small boy.

Will shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve been okay, it’s been a couple of rough nights here and there but - “

Will froze.

His face suddenly paled, his eyes went round as he pressed his lips in a straight line. He lifted his right arm and carefully reached over to the base of his neck, his fingers ghosting his skin very delicately. His stomach dropped, heavily, as if it were being dropped down a roller coaster.

He wanted to vomit, he wanted to cry.

Eleven quickly took notice of his behavior, placing her hand on his arm. Her eyes searching for his, “Hey, are you okay?”

Will quickly snapped back to reality, twisting his neck to look at a concerned Eleven. He wanted to scream, he wanted to tell her what he felt.

But he stood quiet.

He swallowed quickly, giving Eleven a quick nod. “Yeah, just a bug on my neck” 

She gave him a half smile, squeezing his arm gently as she turned her attention back to Hopper who was trying his hardest to teach the boys and Max how to gut a fish. It was not going well. Eleven got up from her seat, now intrigued by the commotion around her as she stood next to Mike, looping her arm around his. But Will stayed seated, frozen, as fear slithered through his veins. 

He knew that feeling, he could never, ever forget that feeling of dread, of emptiness. 

It was back. The mind-flayer was back.

---

You stepped out of the warm shower, grabbing the white towel that hung from the door and quickly wrapping it around your body. You relished the feeling of being clean, feeling safe and warm for once in your life. You stood in front of the fogged mirror, wiping it down with your hand.

Taking in your appearance, you finally had some color to your face (besides the fading bruises). Your hair was glistening in the light, slicked back from being wet. You felt human, you felt normal for once. Glancing down at your wrist however, you knew that you could never really be normal. There was always going to be a part of you that was always going to be different. The three numbers etched on your skin proved it.

You sighed heavily, grabbing a smaller towel from the towel rack and quickly drying your hair with it. Grabbing a brush from the sink, you brushed your hair back, carefully drying the ends so that your shirt wouldn’t get wet. You put on the clothes that Nancy had let you borrow, a pair of athletic gym shorts that were a tad bit too small for you, and a large crewneck sweater.

You hesitantly stepped out of the bathroom where Nancy, Billy and Jonathan were quietly conversing. Billy still sitting on the couch while Nancy and Jonathan sat on the floor. Billy noticed you coming in and stopped mid-conversation, sucking in a tight breath as he did a double take, his eyes drinking in your figure as you took careful steps towards them.

The tiny pair of shorts showed off your long, toned legs, and if Billy loved anything besides a nice ass and a nice pair of tits, it was nice legs. He loved how the shorts showed off your figure, something that you were hiding underneath your other pair of clothes. 

He would never admit this to you however.

“Hey, wow, you look so much better” Nancy remarked turning her head around to you, Jonathan nodding in agreement.

You looked down at your bare feet, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “I feel better, I feel refreshed. I’m just really tired” you spoke gently.

“Well, Jonathan and Billy are about to head home. I brought down some pillows and blankets so you can crash on the couch. We can regroup tomorrow since it’s Saturday and hopefully we can get in contact with the kids and Hopper”

You nodded at Nancy’s statement. The three of them promptly then stood up, it was nearing to be 12 AM and your body was absolutely wrecked. You couldn’t wait to fall asleep on a warm, cozy couch. 

“Hey, I’m gonna let Jonathan out the front door. Billy you know how to go through the back door right?” Nancy asked the blond, who nodded silently at her. 

“I’ll see you in the morning okay? Just be sure to stay quiet - I don’t think my parents would be too happy to know I’m housing you” Nancy said to you, giving you a soft smile. You let out a laugh, “Yeah that’d be weird to explain”

Jonathan gave you wave as the pair headed back up the wooden stairs, leaving you alone with Billy in the basement. He walked over to you, towering over your frame as you shyly looked away from him. He took out his unused cigarette from his leather jacket and placed it on his lips.

“One more light for the road?” he mumbled to you.

You frowned, looking up into his eyes, “Nancy said you can’t smoke in here”

Billy let out a chuckle, “One thing about me doll, I don’t like to play by the rules”

He leaned in closer to you, cigarette still hanging by his mouth. You licked your lips as you snapped your fingers, holding up the flame to his cigarette as he took a deep inhale, then a loud exhale.

There was silence amongst the two of you as the thick smoke dissipated in the air. 

“Will I see you tomorrow?” you asked softly, tilting your head to the side.

His mouth twisted into a half smile. His mind quickly wandered back to a couple hours ago, how seemingly normal everything had been and in an instant he had suddenly been roped into this whole save the world plot with you. But he laughs to himself, his life had never really been normal anyways. He took the cigarette from his lips and stared down at you. He raised his free hand and brushed his fingers against the yellowing bruise by your eye.

You close your eyes, inhaling shakily as you lean into his touch. His calloused palm now rested on your cheek, his thumb making soft circles on your skin. His warm touch was something foreign to you, something you never knew that existed, a feeling that sent shock waves through your body.

Without saying a word, his hand quickly left your cheek. You opened your eyes and Billy turned on his heel and left out the back door. You stood planted on your feet as the loud roar of his camero left the neighborhood leaving you standing in the Wheeler’s basement in silence.

---

“Let’s spy on Billy!”

Eleven groaned, twisting her body over in her sleeping bag to face an eager Max who was wide awake at 12 AM.

“Max ... it’s super late ... I’m tired”

She weakly cracked open her eyes to see her red-headed best friend hovering over her, a wolfish smile on her face.

“Please, please, please! Last one, I know Mr. Wheeler wasn’t the most exciting person to spy on but Billy could be” Max pressed on.

Eleven sighed heavily, slowly sitting up and adjusting herself. “Last one okay?”

Max nodded happily, “Yes, last one, I promise”

Eleven reached over to her backpack and pulled out a black bandana, carefully placing it over her tired eyes. Max grabbed the portable radio that was by her sleeping bag and quickly messed with the knobs, until she reached a station that was playing nothing but static.

Eleven inhaled sharply and concentrated on the static. Her mind wandering through different channels until she reached a dark void.

Her feet splashed quietly as she looked around for Billy, but kept seeing nothing but darkness.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

Eleven whipped her head around at the voice, trying to find where the source came from. She wandered around the void until she found Billy, his back turned towards her. She quietly tip-toed over to the blond, watching his movements carefully. Watching as he raised his hand and placed it on a girls cheek.

A girl.

“I - I see Billy ... he’s with a girl”

“Oh please tell me they’re not naked or anything” Max groaned.

Eleven ignored Max comments and continued to watch the pair. She watched the girl lean into Billy’s touch, his eyes intense as he held her cheek in his palm. Eleven had never seen Billy be so gentle with a girl before, let alone with anyone. If anything she was always told to stay away from Billy, but this, this surprised her.

She watched as Billy snatched his hand away from the girls cheek and quickly left through the backdoor.

The backdoor.

Wait, she knew that backdoor, she’s been through that backdoor.

“He’s at Mike’s house ... with a girl” Eleven stammered out.

“Wait, what?!”

Eleven quickly turned her attention to the girl standing there, frozen, as if being stunned by Billy’s soft touch. Eleven examined her features as she walked closer to her. Her face was bruised, her eyes weary, tired. She was wearing shorts that were too small for her, and a sweatshirt that engulfed most of her frame. She watched as you pulled up the sleeves from the sweatshirt, turning your body away from Eleven as walked away from her.

Then, she spotted it.

Eleven’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as she felt the blood drain from her face.

001.

There was the number, tattooed plainly on your wrist.

Eleven began to hyperventilate, the feeling of uncertainty gnawing at her stomach. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know what to say. 

“El?! Are you okay?! El?!”

Eleven ripped off the bandana, blood streaming down her nose as tears began to prick her eyes. Her breaths were coming in short pants as she turned to Max, a worried expression written all over her face.

“What did you see?!” she stressed, there was panic in her voice.

“I - I saw ... my sister”

[epacer]

Back Story

Stephen Bishop, Class of 1969

Stephen Bishop San Diego’s Hometown Boy Keeps Going “On and On”

Virtually everyone in San Diego had their Stephen Bishop story in the late 1970s. I had mine! At the time I was a self-styled rock musician at Grossmont High School. I played some guitar and sang a set of Dylanesque songs with the five flat notes I could hit. Yet, there were enough polite, fellow students who could tolerate me. So I wound up at many a Grossmont HS house party, singing my songs in somebody’s living room. Needless to say, once, I remember finishing a set and taking a break. And a girl came up to me, a girl I secretly liked, and said, “Bob Dylan is so 1960s. Why don’t you play “On and On” by Stephen Bishop?”

Stephen Bishop was born at Balboa Naval Hospital in 1951. His family moved several times around San Diego in his early years, from Chula Vista to North Park to Del Cerro. Young Stephen attended several schools, including John Muir, which the kids called “John Manure,” and Jackson Elementary. Finally, the family settled on Mohawk Street in the College area, where Stephen went to Horace Mann Junior High and Crawford High School. (Interestingly, another great San Diego songwriter Jack Tempchin also went to Crawford.)

He got an early taste of the limelight when he appeared on the Johnny Downs Show at nine years old. Johnny Downs was a big, local celebrity in San Diego at the time with his own variety show for kids. Stephen remembers sharing the stage with the Oscar Mayer mascot, a little person dressed as a hot dog.

Bishop was in junior high when the Beatles appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show. The British Invasion proved to be a life-altering experience. “I was a newspaper boy,” Stephen says. “While on my route, I saw a guy and a girl in a car listening to ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand.’” Putting two and two together, he quickly concluded that music was a good way to meet girls.

Soon afterward, his older brother bought him an electric guitar and Stephen started to figure out how to play on his own. He learned to play the British stuff: the Kinks’ “All Day and All of the Night” and “Gloria” by Van Morrison’s Them. He was also playing Southern California surf guitar.

Unfortunately, Bishop’s stepfather, an opera singer and teacher, didn’t take too kindly to rock ‘n’ roll and the new British sound. “I had to hide my guitar and practice and write songs in the closet.” It was difficult to keep his affinity for British rock ‘n’ roll a secret, however. He began pronouncing his name “Stave” instead of “Steve.” He grew his hair out and began collecting Beatles trading cards. And, most prominently, he began speaking with a British accent. All the while, he was writing songs and progressing on the guitar.

Influenced by seminal San Diego rock band the Other Four, Stephen and his neighborhood friends formed the Weeds while attending Crawford High School.

Living close to San Diego State proved fortuitous and the Weeds made a decent name for themselves, playing Frat parties, dances, and venues along El Cajon Boulevard. At this time, they also entered a Battle of the Bands competition in Clairemont, winning second place. Their set included some early Stephen Bishop originals. And when the judges were handing out the awards, one commented to Stephen that he was going to be an accomplished songwriter someday.

At this time, he had another brush with music stardom when he met Ray Charles at the singer’s Tangerine Studios.

The Weeds broke up as high school came to an end. In 1970, Bishop realized that if he was going to become that accomplished songwriter, he would need to pack up and move to L.A. He would spend the next several years, walking all over Hollywood and knocking on doors.

“I lived in a motel when I met Milt Rogers at Dot Records.” Then, Bishop got a job making $50 per week as a staff songwriter at Edwin H. Morris Publishing. “I’d write silly songs with names like ‘A Hair in Your Enchilada’ and ‘Beer Can on the Beach.’” At this time, he wrote “Daisy Hawkins,” a song recorded by Jerry Cole.

Finally, his friend Leah Kunkel, whose sister is the late Mama Cass, slipped some of his demos to Art Garfunkel. Garfunkel recorded two of Stephen’s compositions: “Looking for the Right One” and “The Same Old Tears on a New Background” for Garfunkel’s platinum Breakaway album in 1975. Soon, Bishop was signed to ABC Records to record his own album, which became Careless, released in 1976. All in all, it took Bishop six years to break into Hollywood and finally make it.

Careless went Gold, buoyed by the two singles “On and On” and “Save It for a Rainy Day.” Stephen’s second album, which refers to his nickname, Bish went Gold in 1978.

Over the next 40 years, Bishop would release 19 albums, including his just-released We’ll Talk About It Later in the Car. He’d record and perform with an A-list of other artists, including Phil Collins, Eric Clapton, and Sting. And he’d have his songs covered by a who’s-who of popular music: David Crosby, Kenny Loggins, Johnny Mathis, Steve Perry, and Barbara Streisand plus nearly two dozen others.

Of course, “On and On,” which charted at #11, continues to be his signature song.

He has two Grammy nominations and one Oscar nomination. Phil Collins and Eric Clapton have loudly praised him as a songwriter. Along the way, he was mentored by Chaka Kahn’s manager Bob Ellis, Simon and Garfunkel’s producer Roy Halee, and E.Y. Harburg who co-wrote “Over the Rainbow” with Harold Arlen.

“To write good songs, you have to get your heart broken,” says Bishop. If that’s the formula, it’s obvious that Stephen has taken the heartbreak to heart. “I put a lot of time into songs,” he adds. It shows. Stephen is viewed as a craftsman within the songwriting community. Rooted in those early rock songs that were written to get the girls, his songwriting brims with the various stages of romance, from love found to love lost. He also isn’t afraid to reach back into the American Songbook and sample influences from a bygone, pre-rock ‘n’ roll era.

In addition, he’s acted in and written music for several major motion pictures, working with John Landis on four movies including Animal House, Blues Brothers, Kentucky Fried Movie, and Twilight Zone: The Movie. In one iconically-1970s moment, Bishop is seated playing folk guitar on the stairs of the Animal House fraternity when John Belushi, clad in toga, grabs the guitar and smashes it. He has also acted or provided music for several other movies including Tootsie, White Nights, and Somebody to Love. Stephen’s performance of Dave Grusin’s “It Might Be You” for the mega-hit Tootsie became an instant 1980s classic. Most recently, he wrote “Almost Home” for the 2018 remake of the movie Benji.

However, he’s also very proud of the “quirky” aspects of his career. He used to do a lot of fundraisers and tennis tournaments and met a lot of the celebrities who also participated. One of his favorite memories is once playing for Patty Hearst, following her famous foray into radical politics.

Bishop has steadily released new material over the last four decades, averaging a new album every couple of years. The year 2019 proves no different and he has just released a new album and a new collection of songs We’ll Talk About It Later in the Car. The album includes a recording of the Benji theme “Almost Home” along with three cover songs. But it also contains nine new songs that stretch across the pop music palette.

“In Dreams I Fly,” one of the covers, is soul-searching, introspective, and almost psychedelic at times. “One in a Million Girl” brandishes Bishop’s Top 40 chops with bubblegum perfection. “Like Mother, Like Daughter” takes the listener on a ride to the country charts while demonstrating Bishop’s storytelling talents, developing a narrative about life as it is passed down from one generation to the next. “In Love with a Violent Man” furthers the journey down that country road, this time exploring, through brilliant storytelling, the more brutal side of American relationships. “Nora June” is about love lost. So is “French Postcards,” which musically hints to the accordion-infused “musette” of Parisian sidewalk culture. “Tiny Pillow” drips with love and longing. Again, to write good songs, you need to have your heart broken. That motto is apparent on We’ll Talk About It Later in the Car.

However, after 40 years and counting, Stephen Bishop’s first hit “On and On” continues to be the song that most defines his career and public persona. “I wrote it living in Silverlake. My landlady had lots of exotic flowers. They made me want travel somewhere else.” Traveling somewhere is what he has done indeed.

In fact, he’s now writing a book about his travels, a collection of personal, behind-the-scenes stories aptly titled On and Off. Next year, 2020, will mark 50 years since Bishop started pounding the pavement along the Sunset Strip. And after 50 years of knocking on doors, attending awards ceremonies, recording, and touring, he has the stories to back up a fabled career. There are stories about meeting fellow songwriters such as Michael Sembello, who wrote and recorded the hit “Maniac” for the movie Flashdance. And there are stories about his encounter with music royalty, such as the time he was seated next to James Brown and a date at the Grammy Awards. “The book contains crazy, interesting things,” says Bishop.

Dedicated to the quirkier views of the world, today he enjoys reality shows such as Dr. Pimple Popper, Naked and Afraid, and 90-Day Fiancee. These days, “I’m kind of a home body. I stay at home with my dogs.”

He’s also performing and doing shows. In fact, Bishop is no stranger to touring, having performed in South America, Europe, Japan and, as he proudly adds, the Philippines 11 times. “The theme from Tootsie ‘It Might Be You’ is on every jukebox in the country.”

His next big show is at the Grammy Museum in L.A. on November 7. Tickets can be purchased online including at Stephen Bishop’s official website. And he’s set to play on the ’70s Rock & Romance Cruise scheduled for February 2020.

However, don’t call him a “’70s singer.” “I’m an anytime singer not a ’70s singer.” By the longevity of his songs and his popularity, that might be truer now more than ever. Regardless which era you place him in, Stephen Bishop is a really nice guy who writes and performs some very nicely crafted songs, *Reposted article from the SD Troubadour by Raul Sandelin of November 2019.