#those little bits of fridge horror it’s so fun to me

[frosteee-variation]

i love writing things to show to friends and throwing in so many little details that nobody notices so that i can point them out later and either make the entire story worse or better depending on the context, it’s so so so fun it’s my favorite pastime ever

[dyns33]

Flufftober2024 - 1 Moon Knight

Heeeey ! I did my best (and I'm not done actually) to write a mini story per day until Halloween about my fav characters !

As also, it will be a longer story on Sundays. We are starting with dear Marc, Steven and Jake !

"No. Steven, I said no. Jake, stay out of it."

Y/N couldn't hear the debate that was going on between Marc and his two alters, but it was obvious that they didn't agree. She first imagined an important, dangerous mission that required a plan.

Until more details were revealed, which forced her to stop herself from snickering.

"We're not kids anymore, there's no way we're finding a disguise, and if I agreed to find a disguise, it wouldn't be a guy from Ancient Egypt."

"Oh, you don't agree on your choice of costume ?" she teased gently.

"There won't be a costume. Steven, no !"

"Let me guess. Mister Marc is an adult, with a soul as black as the coffee he drinks, allergic to fun and therefore refusing to celebrate Halloween. Steven wants to take advantage of the occasion to show his love of Egypt. And Jake doesn't care, but he wants to please Steven and annoy you, so he ganged up on you."

"Bingo…"

"Why don't you want to celebrate Halloween ? It's fun. And it will be mostly Steven, you can sleep while he struts around."

"I said no, it's no. It's for the kids, we have better things to do. Could you be on my side, please ?"

"Well, I could, but spending time with you, disguised too, is tempting."

"You often see us as Moon Knight, it will be the same."

Really, Y/N didn't understand why Marc was so stubborn about such an innocent subject. He often got angry when Steven, Jake or even her suggested that he change his habits.

Most of the time, Marc ended up giving in, because the requests weren't that bad. He was even happy with some changes, even if he was too proud to admit it. He also wanted to make sure that his alters were okay.

Jake didn't ask for much. Even wilder than Marc, he had lived in hiding for so many years that it seemed strange to him to ask for something, rather than taking it in secret. It annoyed the others a little, but since the protector would never put them in danger, they could trust him.

Steven had a lot of requests. Often adorable, easy to do, like having vegan options in the fridge or vanilla-scented shampoo. His happiness was a priority for the system. Sadly enough, Marc stepped aside to give him as much space as possible.

So for once he was giving his opinion, strictly refusing something, it seemed important. Even if it was about Halloween.

A party for kids, he had said. Kids.

As the argument continued, Marc growling at his reflection, Y/N came closer to hug him. That stopped him dead in his tracks, and probably his alters too.

"We won't celebrate Halloween if you don't want to."

"… Really ?"

"Yes. If you really don't want to. I understand."

As always when he received a little affection, Marc panicked, knowing very well what she meant, and immediately Steven took his place, a bit lost and disappointed that she was depriving him of his Halloween.

Even when Y/N offered to watch the movie he wanted, he continued to sulk.

She didn't know how to make him understand the heart of the problem. Luckily for her, Jake seemed to have caught on, catching Steven's attention, who relaxed a bit as he looked at the mirror.

"Oh. Is that why ? Marc, why didn't you say ? I didn't think it reminded you of… What ? There's no need to be rude, Jake. I may not speak Spanish, but I figured those were bad words."

"Jake, be nice to Steven."

"He said, 'Vale, cariño, pero sólo para ti, porque el pequeño Stevie es realmente estúpido en este momento'. No idea what that mea… Thanks for the translation, Marc."

"Is he feeling better ?"

"I think so, they're laughing at me together now."

"If we watch a horror movie, would that make you all happy ?"

"Hmm. Marc agrees. Jake says 'Stevie se va a asustar, pero me gusta la idea de que estés pegado a nosotros.'… Hey ! I'm not going to be scared of a movie !"

The question of disguise was then forgotten, because it wasn't that important after all. They were going to have a good time together, hugging each other in front of the television while eating chocolate, until Khonshu came to ruin this moment as always.

And then, Moon Knight would put on his ridiculous costume, like Marc had said.

[incorporealbombchelle]

The Wife Of A Close Friend

Daniel Cleaver × Fem!Reader (18+)

Synopsis: One Christmas Eve, while Mark is stuck at the office, Daniel Cleaver pays (y/n) a visit...

⚠️TW: Cheating, Mild Daddy Kink, Mild Dirty Talk, Manipulation, Sleaziness, Raw P in V Penetration, Carly Simon, General Smut.

The house phone rings out, shrill and I pick it up "Hello?"

"Hello, (y/n). When's hubby due home?" Daniel, my husband Mark's best friend.

"Daniel, hi. Mark said he'd be back closer to 6pm. Do you two have plans tonight?"

"I'll be there in 10. Wear something appealing."

"Its only two, why would you-" click.

Asshole.

I hang up and a little over ten minutes later the doorbell rings. I open it to a smiling, if fatigued, Daniel Cleaver. He's flushed, breathing hard as he runs a hand through his hair. Today he's wearing a linen button down and jeans under his coat and if I wasn't constantly on the verge of wanting to kill him, I'd say he looks good. Great, even.

"Did you run here?"

"Did I run here? Will there ever be peace in the middle east? Are you wearing panties? These are all very difficult questions, (y/n), I propose we start with the panties and work backwards," he wheezes

"Watch it-" I warn

"You're right, I'm awful, we should talk it out over drinks,"

I roll my eyes and he nods into the foyer, pushing past me.

"Oh, won't you come in." I plead flatly.

I step aside, closing the door to follow behind as he saunters into the kitchen, plucks a beer from the fridge and discards his coat over the counter. His eyes leer over me as he takes a swig of his drink.

"Does Mark know you traipse around the house in these skimpy little dresses while he's at work?"

"It's Prada, for your information and it is not skimpy..." I tug the hem of the mini dress as low as I'm able to, but it refuses to support my assertion and I feel myself redden some.

He smiles devilishly and turns away for a moment, teeth catching his lower lip as he does. "Right," he scoffs, amused at my expense.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this midday home invasion, Mr. Cleaver?"

"Two-thirty is hardly the middle of the day, (y/n), middle of the afternoon maybe, but-"

"The point. Reach it."

"You don't remember the model number of the speaker set you gave Mark last year for Christmas off-hand, do you? I've been looking for something similar for my flat, they're sold out everywhere, and I've never heard more crisp audio in my life than I have through those speakers."

"Oh, erm... I don't remember it off-hand, actually, we did just move them to the bedroom from the living room, I'll show you where they are. Do you have a pad and pen?"

"Always, lead the way."

I show him upstairs to the bedroom and lean against the doorframe, pointing out the speaker set just across from mine and Mark's bed.

"Just there, check whatever you need."

"Excellent, you're a peach, thank you."

"Anytime."

I watch Daniel investigate the speakers, turning a couple over and writing down some numbers in his moleskine. He then shuffles through the adjacent CD collection a bit before looking over to me.

"What's your poison?"

"I'd rather not."

"Come on (y/n), have some fun, god knows that's gone out the window here now that you and Mark are married." He quips, continuing his search.

"Here, Carly Simon : 'No Secrets', we love a bit of Carly, dont we?" He winks and I can't help but giggle.

He sets the CD into the player and selects a track, pressing the play button. The muted bass intro of  'Youre So Vain' fills the room and Daniel is... it wouldn't be fair to call it dancing but he is definitely... moving to the beat, and -shock horror- extending a hand to me.

'and all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner and-' 

I let out a loud laugh as I take his hand and we are twirling, twisting, dancing... having fun. 

He's not the worst dancer in the world and I nearly cackle as he dips me, brings me up, spins me out and back into his arms, and this is nice, actually.

We sway and maybe I've judged him a bit too harshly... he is best friends with Mark after all, how bad could the man be, really?

"Y'know, Mick Jagger subbed in backing vocals on this one..." he speaks into the crook of my neck, low and soothing, his breath warm.

"Did he?" It becomes apparent to me that yes, yes he did. Interesting.

"Mm. It's funny, the song could very easily be about him..."

"I suppose it could be, huh..."

'I had some dreams, there were clouds in my coffe, clouds in my coffee and...'

As we sway, Daniel's body molds to mine, hands finding my hips. I let my eyes close, my hands resting over his. We fit together like puzzle pieces as our fingers interlace and this is nice. It's never like this with Mark.

Daniel's lips ghost the side of my neck and a shiver runs down my spine "Daniel, don't..." I turn around, my eyes meeting his in shock.

"(y/n), darling, relax. We're only dancing. I know for a fact, Mark barely even uses these speakers. Why not let me appreciate what he so clearly doesn't?" he closes the short distance Ive left bewteen us, eyes trailing over me, drinking in my face, my figure. "What he couldn't...possibly..." his eyes capture mine and he leans down, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek. I don't move. I can barely breathe.

'and when you're not you're with, some underworld spy or-'

Daniel's lips lock to mine and the world goes quiet. Our tongues explore eachother's mouths and he moans and before I realize it I'm unbuttoning his shirt.

Daniel places a hand over mine. "(y/n). wait, wait." A look of genuine concern colors his features as he looks down at me, speaking softly "I just... I want you to know that I like you. Love you, really. Every day I kick myself for not objecting to your vows with Mark. You've completely captivated me since our first meeting. You occupy my mind, always... not just when I'm in the shower. So this... you, wanting me too... it...means something to me." His eyes search mine for understanding and it's there.

I take a deep, shaky breath. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"What could I have said? 'No, Darcy, please don't marry her, I love her more than you do' ??"

His tongue traces his lower lip as his eyes flick to my mouth, and he starts to lean in again.

We shouldn't. This is wrong. I'm married to his best friend. He's an awful person. A total prat. A prat who tastes like cigarettes and Diet Coke. A prat whose hands feel incredible on my ass. A prat, who is currently...unzipping my dress... and whose charm I am utterly defenseless to. 

The dress in question falls to the ground in a heap and I'm stood before him in just my bra and panties. As Daniel looks me over, a low moan escapes him and he gasps.

"Ohh, how I've dreamed of this moment. You are...perfect, (y/n), just...ravishing..." his arms wrap around me again and he nibbles my neck while unhooking my bra, tossing it haphazardly aside.

He drags the freshly dampened panties down my legs and helps me out of them, eyes holding mine as he does. But his clothes are still on.

"Bit unfair, isn't it?" I question.

"Looking to level the playing field?" A grin. Daniel reaches a hand back, closing the bedroom door with a click.

I bite my lip, reaching out to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders.

His arms are well-muscled, his chest taut and stomach defined. I start to undo his belt, then his trousers, dropping to my knees before him as I do.

I can tell just from the outline of it he is thick and my mouth drops open as I watch his dick strain against the fabric of his black boxer-briefs.

My fingers hook into the sides of the waistband and he takes in a sharp breath as I pull them down his legs, cock eagerly bouncing forth to greet me.

Daniel tilts my chin up so I'm looking up at him again. "Can I ask a favor of you?"  He smirks down at me.

"Yes, Mr. Cleaver?" my best bambi eyes.

"Open your mouth, Mrs. Darcy."

I open wide for him, tongue out, and Daniel laces his fingers into my hair, slowly guiding my head as far down onto his length as possible, in and out, gradually speeding up to a regular pace. I gag when he hits the back of my throat and blink away tears as he continues to roughly fuck my mouth.

"Ohhh, Mrs. Darcy, your tongue feels fucking exquisite... there you go, that's a good girl... take. It. All..." he dips into the back of my throat a few times in a row and when I  gag again, he groans, gasping sharply. His hand is still enmeshed in my hair and he reminds me of it by jerking my head backwards, cock exiting my mouth with a pronounced pop.

Daniel strokes my cheek, taking in the sight of me on my knees, heaving, lips swollen, body buzzing.

"Mm. I think I'm going to have to fuck you now, (y/n). Too gorgeous not to, I'm afraid. Lay back for me, yeah?"

I rest back on the carpet and he follows me down, nipping and kissing down my neck, hands traveling over the contours of my body as he does.

He takes his cock in hand, stroking it a few times as he looks my face over.

"Are you ready for me?" I nod and he smirks, parting my legs. He glides the tip along my vulva, teasing, and lets out a satisfied hum at the slickness of it.

Daniel aligns himself with my entrance and hastily slips his cock inside of me. He is... much larger than I realized and I gasp at the sudden fullness as he begins to steadily roll his hips down into mine.

"Fuck me, that's tight, have you been fucked recently, (y/n)?"

My face is hot, all I can offer is a choked whimper and he smirks down at me.

"That's a no, then. Ah, don't worry pet. Daddy's here and he's going to take very good care of you..."

he murmurs into my neck, pace picking up.

He feels remarkable but it's so much and "D-Daniel?"

"Mm?" He keeps rocking into me,

"I- mmmh, it's- you're just- it's really big, and-" I gasp as his tip hits my cervix.

"Oh? Are you not used to something like this?" He taunts, grinning.

"Bit much for you then?" He gives another forceful buck into me and I moan.

"(y/n), we can stop whenever you like, you just. say. the word..." he pounds into me hard, one hand pinning my hip in place as I wrap my legs around him. " No Daniel, don't stop, please don't stop!" I whine.

"Mm. See, that's what I thought you might say... sound so fucking pretty when you beg for it like that, too..." he keeps railing into me and I gasp, feeling my body start to coil.

"(y/n) I'm going to pull out now, and you're going to turn over for me, yeah?" I nod.

"Good girl."

He pulls out of me and I do turn over for him, arching my hips up and looking back at him.

Daniel runs his hands over my ass, giving it a firm squeeze before guiding himself back into me.

It's easier to take this time, though still a little overwhelming. He pushes into me carefully, slowly, holding my hips steady, and as he fills me out I realize I spoke too soon.

He starts bucking into me again, his strokes commanding as our bodies clap against eachother. "Oh my Gohdd," I groan, tensing around him.

One of Daniel's hands snakes around my hip and his fingers toy with my clit expertly as he continues ramming into me. His other hand grasps a fistful of my hair, yanking back ruthlessly and my entire body is rigid with need as I clench around his cock once, twice.

"You are just... magnificent, (y/n), so wet, so fucking tight, christ, are you about to come?" He slows his thrusts some and I whimper at the change of pace.

"I said, are you gonna come for me?"

"Yesssss, please" I breathe, desperate.

"Please what?" He slows down to a glacial pace, still playing with my clit, torturous, and does he actually expect me to say it? No. There's no way.

"Please what. (y/n)?" Oh my god. He wants me to call him-

"Daddy! Please Daddy, let me come, I need it,"

"There you go, wasn't so hard, was it?" He speeds up again, pistoning into me rapidly, his grip on my hair tightening. "Tell me something (y/n), has Mark fucking Darcy ever made you feel this good? Ever made you crave it the way you do right now?"

"No, never!!" The words leave me before I'm aware I've said them and I wish it wasn't true.

"Who makes you feel like this?"

"You!! Only you, Daniel!!" I whine.

"That's right, now are you going to be a good girl and come for Daddy? I can feel you fucking twitching, (y/n), just. Let. Go."

Orgasm hits like a train and within seconds I'm a mess of pathetic, whimpering contractions beneath him, completely undone.

Daniel slows, letting me ride out the final waves of my climax, hand finally releasing its grip on my hair.

The familiar creak of the bedroom door handle cuts through our shared panting and the dulcet tones of the Carly Simon CD. Mark. No. No. Nonononono, SHIT.

My body goes slack beneath Daniel's and I look back in mortified terror.

Mark stands in the doorway, fuming.

"What the absolute fuck is going on here?"

A beat.

Daniel clears his throat "Oh. Erm. Hah. Mister. Darcy...you're home... earlier than anticipated. This is... awkward." he manages, sheepish.

Mark's eyes widen at the scene before him and I watch his face crumple momentarily as the information sets in.

Me. Ass up for Daniel Cleaver. On the floor of our bedroom. In our home. In the middle of the day. To Carly Simon. Mark exhales through his nose and he's bright red.

"Cleaver. May I speak to you outside for a moment?"

"Outside your wife or outside of the room?"

"You know what the bloody fuck I meant, now get the fuck off of my fucking floor!" He hisses, seething as he steps politely into the hallway.

"Right. Both then." Daniel mumbles into my neck, withdrawing from me and yanking on his clothes to follow Mark downstairs.

My body is hot lead and my head is hazy as I listen to the frantic yelling downstairs, something is thrown, -glass- it breaks, and finally, the front door slams shut. I hear Mark's footsteps bounding heavily up the stairs and I am well and truly fucked. In all manner of ways.

But all I can think about... is Daniel...

[deceptive-daydreams]

The Under-Ground

Chapter One - Welcome to The Under-Ground

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - In which you work at the local Hawkins coffee shop where you thought you'd be able to escape the horrors that were high school a few years after graduating. Until one of those horrors lands a job in the closing shift with you...and you have to train him.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

5K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I finished this sooner than I thought I would...pls let me know what you think, I am having so much fun writing this so far and I can't wait to keep going

Masterlist

Next ->

The chill Autumn air infiltrated the apartment and left you shivering, the wool blanket atop your comforter did little to aid you in getting warm.  That’s what five hundred dollars a month got you in small town Hawkins, it's what you could afford.  Old striped wallpaper that alternated a faded baby blue and pale yellow that seemed to have been glued to the wall since the 70’s barely clung to the walls, a majority of it peeling and begging to be torn off.  The stained white linoleum throughout the kitchen had seen better days and the carpet in the living room and bedroom was dingy, so dingy that no vacuum could possibly come close to cleaning it.  The lock on the door was on the verge of breaking and almost didn’t work–almost.  And of course the heater was definitely broken, the creepy landlord would take his sweet time to fix it, leaving you with a freezing apartment as the seasons changed and Hawkins welcomed the fall.  A broke college student by day and a barista by night, these are the cards you were dealt for now.  

Classes at the community college had finished for the day, rotating to the night courses.  A few papers were due next week, one for your business class on the effects of product promotion in business growth that happened to be stressing you out extra.  Your fingers tapped away at your laptop from your mattress nestled in the corner on the floor of your tiny bedroom.  4:30PM, the time in the corner of the screen read, just half an hour before your shift at The Under-Ground.  With a groan, you click save on the document and shut the laptop which was certain to be opened later tonight after your shift only to continue the torturous essay.  Begrudgingly you began your pre-work ritual of grabbing whatever snack or meal you had in the fridge, scarfing it down, and then tidying your appearance a bit while listening to your daily playlist named “Eh” on Spotify.  Today’s vibe was set by Dreams by Fleetwood Mac.  

The rusty bathroom faucet sputtered water before allowing a full stream to flow into the sink.  You splashed some water on your face to feel more alive although it may have been a mistake in hindsight since the apartment was already cold and rather than feeling refreshed, you felt like a wet dog.  Dabbing your face with a towel hanging from over the rod where the tie dye shower curtain hung as well, you collected any leftover mascara from the previous night beneath your waterline and around your eyelids.  Moving to the compact closet in the bedroom, a simple outfit of jeans and a maroon knitted sweater you’d ‘claimed’ from the lost and found at the college were chosen and paired with your only signature docs.  Lastly, your apron was tied around your waist in a neat knot.  

Grabbing your keys from the laminate countertop and shoving your laptop in your bag, you make your way through the damaged and scratched up wooden door that was the entrance to your apartment, the number seven nailed to the front of it.  “God dammit.” you jam your key in and out of the lock, twisting and repeating until it finally clicks in place.  The door leads right outside into the biting air and you scurry down the concrete stairs while avoiding touching the nasty railing, Mrs. Harrison’s chubby cat, Raphael is perched right at the bottom like he always is.  His large green irises stare up at you, giving the appearance that he was just a fluffy ball of black fur with eyes.  “Ralphy” you mumble your nickname for him affectionately as you steal a pat from his head on your way out of the apartments, a small meow chiming through the air.  

The Under-Ground wasn’t a far walk but it sure did seem that way the colder it got.  You’d been working there since the Spring and so far had no issues with weather but you knew it would bite you at some point.  The walk through downtown Hawkins is crisp and cloudy, leaves blowing delicately from the trees and laying perfectly in the street, colors varying from red, orange, and brown.  It was mid September.  Patrons wander about the streets attending to their daily errands.  Teenagers mess around at the entrance of The Hideout, no doubt attempting to use their fake IDs only to be turned away by the bouncer, Stan.  

Joyce Byers cleans the storefront window of Melvald’s, taking care to not miss a single streak.  Her face lights up as her son, Will approaches the store.  Max Mayfield skateboards past you down the sidewalk at lightning speed, the only reason you know it's her is a flash of her flaming red hair as well as Lucas Sinclair trying to keep up with her on his own board, a nervous expression written on his features as he carefully maneuvers.  Nancy Wheeler hurriedly gets into her car, wrapping up her workday at The Hawkins Post while Jonathan Byers gives her cheek a kiss and heads over toward Will and Joyce.   

The Under-Ground comes into view as you round the corner, the brick building vacant of customers at the moment from what you can tell through the windows.  The evening rush hasn’t picked up yet, usually kicking in at around six when the college students like yourself would make themselves at home and study over lattes and espresso shots.  The bell chimes above the door as you pull it open, the smell of coffee beans and pastries flooding your nose and some upbeat jazz playing through the speakers.  Robin sits atop the counter much to the boss, Ronnie's dismay but he’s not around to scold her.  Her dirty blonde bob is freshly trimmed, bangs laying just right across her forehead while she has a lollipop sticking out her mouth and she skims through a magazine lazily.  One leg is hitched up onto the counter with her bright yellow converse on display, knee to her chest.  She’s wearing jeans with a few holes and a vintage tee.  Her bright blue eyes glance up and land on you, face lighting up as she greets you.  “Hey, Robin!” you greet back, making your way behind the counter to clock in on the computer.  

“You’re lucky, it’s been dead for hours.” she says while setting aside the magazine.  “Think it’s gonna rain too so it’ll probably stay that way.” she continues.  

“Good, I can probably catch up on some homework then.” you hum, punching in your employee number.

“Oh and some new guy is supposed to close with you tonight, I think you’re training him.” she mentions.

“So, no catching up on homework then.” you sigh.  Training someone new wasn't necessarily difficult however it was draining since you already knew how to do everything like the back of your hand.  Dumbing it all down always took a minute since you had to slow down and give them time to catch on.  

“Did Ronnie say who?” you ask, turning to face Robin.  Hawkins was small which meant that everyone knew everyone.  Which was unfortunate sometimes since that also meant everyone knew everyone's business.

Robin hops off the counter, hair bouncing as she does.  “Nope, I just know that it's some dude.” she crunches down on her lollipop and discards the stick in the garbage a few feet away.  

With a sigh, you head to the back room to put your bag in your locker only to find Steve lounging at the lunch table, his feet crossed on top of it while scrolling through his phone and two legs of the chair he occupies off the ground as he balances.  Today he sports some red corduroy pants and an ivory crewneck sweater finished off with converse, just like Robin’s, only black.  “What’s up?” he greets, not once looking up from his phone.  

“Scrolling through Tinder again, Stevie?” you mock while setting your bag in your locker for safe keeping, hooking the lock around the metal and clicking it into place.

“Actually, it’s Grindr.” he says matter of factly.  

“My bad, you find anyone cute?” you ask, peering over his shoulder, his aftershave smelling subtle and pleasant.   

He lands on a cute blonde guy with green eyes, most likely from a town over.  “Not really.” he exhales, running a hand through his voluminous hair.  

“Well what about him?  He’s pretty cute.” you encourage.  

“Dude, it says he likes to do Karaoke for fun.” he glances behind at you with a raised brow.  You shrug, unaware of why that would deter him.  

“If that's not a red flag, I don’t know what is.” he states, shutting his phone off and shoving it in his pocket while standing, making his way to the vending machine.  “What happened to me, Socks?  I used to pull 'em left and right and now no guy or girl will give me the time of day.”  Socks was your nickname given by Steve and Robin after the dreadful incident where a pipe burst from one of the sinks and you happened to be standing in front of it, the bottom half of your pants along with your socks becoming soaked.  The rest of the evening you worked your shift without shoes, only in your sopping wet socks with your jeans rolled up.  It had been an ongoing joke since, although you always reminded them how horrible it is to go around in wet shoes, the squeaky sound they would make against the floor and the squishiness of the soles.  They always disagreed, insisting that it would be worse to work in only socks and how they’d just opt to continue wearing the drenched shoes.  

“Steve, I think Grindr and Tinder and all the dating apps might be giving you unrealistic expectations.” you tell him truthfully.  

“Okay, but who the hell else am I gonna find in Hawkins?  Been there, done that, this is my only option."  He inserts a dollar into the vending machine and punches in his selection, shortly after a bag of pretzels falls.  

“Pretzels, Steve?  Really?” you taunt.  “How bland of you.” you deadpan.  He pulls open the packaging and tosses a pretzel in his mouth all while giving you his signature pout.  “Maybe that's your issue, you dumb yourself down for these people you don’t even know.” you continue.

“Wow.” he raises his arms in disbelief, a hint of humor evident.  “That…” he flings a pretzel at you, hitting your chest.  “...was mean.” he sasses.  “But probably true.” he finishes.  “Don’t you have a job or something?” his head tilts toward the door.  

“Yeah, and so do you.” you shoot back, grabbing his apron from where it hung over one of the breakroom chairs and throwing it at him.  

Exiting the room, you hear Steve chime in one more time.  “I’m off in like fifteen!”  Your shifts always overlapped with Steve and Robin’s, them usually taking the morning to afternoon shift and you taking over closing.  Ronnie would always hang out in the back office so you didn’t have to close alone but that was pretty much the extent of his labor.  The beans needed to be ground for the next day, chairs stacked on the tables, bathroom tidied, ingredients prepped, counters wiped down, etc.  And you were always the one to do it, not that you minded so much.  Ronnie never micromanaged and you had gotten good at closing so it became somewhat of a meditation time.  The town winded down and the dim lighting provided a relaxing glow, almost as if you were in a spa.  You could at least pretend anyway.

Robin was making herself a latte, carefully pouring the milk over the coffee in an attempt to make a design.  She’d been practicing for weeks with no success.  “Dammit!  Another wasted latte!” she slams the small pitcher of cream onto the counter.  

“That for me?” you question over her shoulder, spotting the blob of white draped over the coffee.  You ended up drinking them most of the time, always looking forward to your daily latte handcrafted by Robin.  

Letting a breath out, she hangs her head in defeat.  “It is now.” 

Steve saunters out from the back, stopping in his tracks right next to Robin.  “Another one?  Seriously?” he mutters before continuing to the espresso machine to make probably his fourth drink of the day.  

“When is the new guy scheduled to come in?” you ask as you pour yourself an iced coffee.  Everyone was allowed one free drink a day however it was never enforced unless the owner, Ronnie’s mom was around.  She owned The Under-Ground while her husband owned The Hideout.

“5:30, I think?” Robin answers.  The clock on the register currently reads 5:20.  Steve glances at you, trying to hide a smirk as he quickly looks in the other direction.  

“What?” you demand.  Shaking his head he continues pouring an espresso shot into paper to go cup.  A tug on his sleeve doesn’t get him to budge.  “Steve, why did you give me that look?!” you hound him.  

“Nothing!” he raises his hands in defense, a shit eating grin on his face.  

“Steve.” you narrow your eyes at him, brows knit in frustration.  

“Yeah, Steve.  What do you know that I don’t?” Robin steps towards him while crossing her arms in offense.  

“Nothing!” He lies, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Steve.” Robin glares at him.

“Y’know, this is already getting to me.” he points to his cup.  “I gotta run to the bathroom.” he rushes to the back once again, holding his stomach and pretending to grimace in pain.

“What’s up with him?” you look at Robin, the two of you left standing there without any idea.  She shrugs, handing you the botched latte she just made.  

Pushing aside your theories, you begin setting up for your shift, restocking the cups and making sure there’s enough whip cream in the canister.  The Under-Ground had a very cozy vibe, dark mahogany woods decorating the interior, little twinkly lights draped above the windows, and a snug book nook tucked away in the back corner with large shelves that took up the whole wall.  Accompanying it are a few tables and chairs, their wood matching the counter and on top of each table sits various houseplants that you’d have to remind yourself to water.  

Robin tops off the pastries as she always does at the end of her shift, adding some chocolate croissants, blueberry muffins, brownies, and a brand new lemon loaf to the case.  She finishes off by wiping off the glass with a rag and then ensures the display of gift cards and bags of coffee beans on the counter is dusted off and pristine.  

You busy yourself by restocking the to-go sandwiches in the open cooler at the front of the counter, making a note to also grab a few more parfaits from the back since those were running low as well.  A few books are scattered among one of the tables so you take it upon yourself to collect them and tuck them neatly back on the book shelf.  Other than that, nothing else is left to do and you should be ready to start training the new hire without any distractions.  You reward yourself by sipping on the latte, the bitter taste gracing your tongue and warmth coating your throat.  Robin disappears to the back briefly, coming back out with her bag while shoving her apron into it, ready to clock out the second it hits 5:30.

The roaring of an engine suddenly echoes in the streets, an obnoxious sputtering filling your ears as you glance up and out of the front window.  It comes to a screeching halt as a motorcycle pulls up into one of the parking spots horizontally rather than vertically like the rest of the vehicles.  Jackass, you think to yourself as the owner kicks the kickstand down.  He wears a standard black motorcycle helmet, a leather jacket, ripped black jeans, and some combat boots, a walking stereotype for some kind of punk ass kid.  

Jim Hopper catches him, his cop car parked a few spaces away while he does his crossword in the driver’s seat.  You can’t quite make out what's being said but as Hopper exits his car in a hurry,  you can tell they have most likely had run-ins like this before.  The jackass looks up in aggravation as he still straddles the bike, the sky reflected in the visor of his helmet.  Hopper appears to be telling him off but not giving him a ticket when he most definitely should.  Jackass reparks the bike correctly, gesturing to it as if he’d performed a magic trick, Hopper with a hand on his hip and a scowl on his face.  He points a finger at him, muttering one last thing before retreating back to his own car, eyes never leaving the guy.  

Steve emerges from the back again, carefully.  “Shit.” he mumbles.

Your gaze moves from the scene outside to behind you at Steve who is also now looking out the window.  This provokes you to look back outside.  Just as you’re about to ask, the jackass removes his helmet, revealing a head of wild brunette curls, his hand adorned in chunky rings as he grips the helmet.  Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to inputting some inventory in the computer.  Out of the corner of your eye you can see that he’s making his way toward the door.  “Are you kidding me?” you say under your breath.  

“Thought trendy coffee wasn’t his style.” you say to no one in particular.  Steve inhales as if waiting for some kind of impact.  

“Oh…” Robin says in some kind of realization.  

The bell above the door rings as he swings it open, striding across the shop and in front of the counter, his eyes are a dark abyss as he looks from you to Robin and then to Steve.  

“Munson.” Steve acknowledges him.

“Harrington.” he says back, a tinge of disgust rolling off his tongue.  Robin’s eyes are wide as they shift between you two.

“What do you want, Eddie?” you bite, voice full of malice as you glare up at him.

Bringing his hand to his chest, his face contorting into a mock pout, he sets the helmet on the counter.  “Ouch.  That make you feel better, sweetheart?”  Sarcasm drips from his tone.

You scoff about to tell him to leave but he just continues.  “Make you feel all big and bad?  Get it out of your system yet?” he taunts, a smirk playing on his lips.  

“Oh no.” Robin says quietly, leaning over you to clock out and then subtly making her way around the counter.  

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here and find someone else to dick around with?” you snap, grabbing his helmet and forcing it into his hands. 

A cocky look takes over his features.  “Well what if I’m a paying customer?” 

 “I have the right to refuse service so, I’m refusing.” you can feel anger coursing through your veins, blood running hot.  

“That’s unfortunate.” he frowns, moving to make his way behind the counter.  “For you.” his stare burns into you, two black holes nearly swallowing you up.  

“I don’t have time-” you begin but are cut off when he reaches over you and starts typing away at the computer, clocking in.  His cheap cologne and cigarette smoke flood your nose.

Steve looks at you apologetically as Eddie passes him on his way to the back.  A silence lingers as you process that you’ll be forced to work with the one person in this town you can’t stand.  Eddie Munson was the new hire and of course he had to be scheduled on the closing shift with you.  Life couldn’t get any worse than this, a shitty apartment, and now a shitty job that you used to love combined with mountains of homework.  Your eternal hell.  Work was supposed to be a place you could briefly escape.  Sure it was still work but you didn’t mind.

“Steve!” both you and Robin scold him at the same time.  He squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for more yelling.  

“You knew Ronnie hired him and you just didn’t tell me!” you seethe.  “You could have warned me!  I could have switched shifts or something-or, or–or tell Ronnie he’s a criminal or something!  So he wouldn’t get hired!” your eyes are bulging out of your head as you reprimand the poor guy.  

“Okay, see, the way you're reacting right now doesn’t give me any confidence that you would have reacted any differently if I told you earlier.” Steve explains while clocking out.  

“So you think springing it on her like that was any better!” Robin says loudly.  Steve contemplates for a moment.

“Look, Socks.  I’m sorry.” he apologizes sincerely.  

“Socks?” Eddie stands in the doorway that leads to the back, now free of his leather jacket and wearing a black Metallica tee.  “What kinda fucked up thing did you do for a nickname like that?” he asks, a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, kill me now.” you drag your hands down your face in agony.  Steve and Robin slowly make their way toward the front door, looking at you sympathetically.

“See you tomorrow?” Robin awkwardly points finger guns at you before they speed up and shuffle out the door.

You sigh heavily, dropping your arms limply to your sides.  Turning around, Eddie is about to speak up again but you cut him off. 

“I don’t wanna hear it.  You don’t talk unless it's about work.  I’ll train you today and then I’ll ask Ronnie to move you to mornings or something.” you tell him in one breath.  

He laughs before replying.  “You’d like that wouldn’t you?  Hate to be the bearer of bad news but you’re stuck with me, doll.” he chuckles lowly.  “I only work nights.” he says with that stupid grin.  

“Who did I piss off for this to happen?” you mumble to yourself, rubbing at your temples.  “Put this on.” you shove an apron at his chest.

He grunts at the impact.  “No.” he simply says, refusing to grab it from you.  His expression is blank.

Scoffing, you shove it against him even harder.  “This is work.  We work here.  Stop acting like a damn child.” you say sternly.  

Now taking the apron in his hand, you think he’s finally come to his senses until he bunches it up and tosses it onto one of the counters, eliciting a groan from you.  You were foolish to think he would play nice.

–

Trying to train Eddie was as useful as training a fly.  He didn’t listen and would purposely mess things up claiming he didn’t know any better and he almost charged one of your only customers that night double the actual cost.  It was like watching a toddler, you couldn’t take your eyes away from him or all hell would break loose.  The cherry on top was all the snide comments he would make which led to more bickering.  

When it came to closing time at 9:00, you were exhausted and could practically feel the eyebags hanging off your face.  There was not enough espresso in the world to keep up with Eddie’s antics.  You were counting the money from the register, making sure all was accounted for, Eddie watching as he was supposed to be learning when really he was zoned out.  

“Alright, Socks, are we done here?” he says with a bored tone.  

You glance between him and the cash, still counting under your breath while ignoring him.  Poking your arm, he tries again.  “Socks.  I got things to do.” he continues.  “Hey, I’m talking to you–”

“--Oh my god, just go.” you break, finally completing your counting and setting the money back in the drawer neatly.  

“Fuck yeah.” he whispers, rushing to the back to collect his things.  Pinching the bridge of your nose, you only hope he quits before you have to work another shift with him.  Eddie wasn’t just an asshole, he was the asshole who was partially responsible for your shitty high school experience.  You know it's dumb, there’s no reason to let something keep a hold on you for so long but it just does.  It makes you cringe, it's like the equivalent to peaking in high school but opposite, and yet you can’t seem to look past it.

Nothing but the twinkly lights and the dim overhead lights lit up the shop, a moment of peace taking over you while the town outside laid itself to rest.  Shutting off the music and untying your apron to drape it over your arm, you do one more scan to make sure everything is set for tomorrow.  Satisfied, you head to the back to retrieve your bag.  Eddie passes you, almost running you over on his way out, his stupid helmet in hand.  

“See ya tomorrow, Socks.” he salutes as he clocks out, shortly after you hear the bell chime signaling that he had left.  He was overusing that nickname but you knew it would only please him to call it out.  You had to keep your cool until he figured out he didn’t fit in here and quit.  Exhaling, you unlock your locker, grabbing your bag and tossing your apron in before exiting and heading for the door.  

The door is locked and double checked as you step out onto the sidewalk only to find that it was still raining.  Just my luck.  Eddie’s dumb motorcycle roars to life again a few feet away from you, a nuisance to the tranquil town around you.  Rolling your eyes, you begin your damp journey home.  It’s not until you’re in front of the movie theater that you hear that damn bike behind you.  You think he’s going to speed past you, maybe splash some water on you while he’s at it but the engine rumbles as if right next to you–which it was.  

“Are you lost?” you spit, continuing to walk.  

He rides beside you slowly, irritating you to your core.  “Need a ride home?” he asks, slightly muffled by his helmet.  

You huff before responding.  “No.  I don’t need anything from you.  Get the hell out of here.”  You keep your gaze straight ahead as you walk, him still following behind.

“Sweetheart–”

“--Do NOT call me that.  Ever.  Again.” you scold, taking a moment to point your finger at him, your face displaying disdain toward him.

“Look, I may be an asshole but it's raining.  I can give you a ride.” he coaxes but it doesn’t work.  You keep on, the rain drops collecting on your eyelashes.  

“Get bent, Eddie.” you say, now walking faster, hoping to evade him.

He lifts the visor on the helmet, now showing his eyes as he keeps up with you.  “Get on the damn bike.”

“Fuck you.” you snap at him.

Desperate, you start jogging across the crosswalk and that's when he gives up.  Glancing behind you, he flips the visor down and revs the bike before speeding off.  You weren’t stupid and you weren’t going to play into his little sadist games.  Life was already steamrolling you and you did not need some jackass to factor into it.  After a few minutes of walking, you finally rounded the corner and the faded powder blue apartments came into view, street lights illuminating the way.  The streets were sleek with rain and oil, giving off reflections of the traffic lights and buildings.  You were careful to scurry your way across the parking lot to avoid any of the creeps that hung around late at night.  It wasn’t exactly the best area, being notorious for drug deals and any other illegal side hustles.  

Raphael’s spot on the stairs was vacant due to the downpour which you frowned at, you always looked forward to seeing him upon coming home.  A few skeezy looking men stood nearby however they seemed to be involved in their own drama as they argued and took no interest in you.  Gratefully, you continued quietly up the stairs and hurriedly unlocked the door, jamming the key in the lock until it gave out to you.  

Slipping into your nightly routine, you begin to unwind as much as you can.  A quick shower awaited you since the hot water was limited and you couldn’t wait to munch on one of the sandwiches you snagged from work.  In your defense Ronnie had ordered way too many for the week and the back fridge was overflowing with them.  The local deli they came from, Anderson’s had some fairly good quality meats and cheeses so for that you were thankful as they pretty much kept you fed.  Tonight’s would be turkey and swiss with mayo on sourdough, your favorite.  The lights flickered on as you hit the switch, another quirk that came with the run down apartment.  The living room and entryway were now bathed in a warm and quite dim glow, or in other words if you wanted to read a book, it’d be quite difficult to see.  Shivering from being drenched in rain, you set your bag on the kitchen counter adjacent to the entryway and start taking off your damp clothes, peering into your room to toss them into the hamper and slipping into the bathroom.  It was a tight space, not a whole lot of room to do much but it was home.  

Turning the faucet to ‘hot’, you wait for the water to get warm enough to bear, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom still bothered you no matter how long you lived there.  You stood on the bath mat feeling the water with your finger until it was to your satisfaction, stepping in and feeling welcomed by the sudden warmth you’d been waiting for all day.  In that moment you feel relief from the pressures of the world, the deadlines, bills, loans, essays, all of it.  Everything melts away for approximately three minutes and that's when the water starts to turn cold again, returning you back to the dreadful reality you wish you could neglect.  

But to your dismay, the cycle just starts all over again, keeping you hostage.

~end~

Next ->

Masterlist

tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley) (Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 12

The rest of the week was me tending to my farm and working on getting my house looking presentable. For three days, I had woken up to Robin working on the renovations I requested. I finally have a kitchen and bedroom now. My bed's been pushed over to the other room, and I threw my groceries into the fridge, in the cupboards, and on my counter.

A few of my crops were harvestable as well. I got to sell some of those and purchase furniture. There is now a couch and wallpaper to make it feel more cozy and inviting. It's actually pretty spacious now with the renovations complete.

The townsfolk have also really warmed up to me as well. They've sent me plenty of things in the mail to help my career, and also recipes since I now have a kitchen.

I have even tried visiting the mines up in the mountains. It's not fun there. There were so many creepy crawlies that attacked me down there. I didn't think I'd make it out alive. I figured out what the Hat Mouse was talking about as well with the museum. I found things in the rocks I've broken open with my pickaxe that are supposed to go in the museum. I haven't found everything yet, but I found quite a bit.

I haven't seen Haley around town for a bit either. Our paths just haven't crossed like they have been lately. I guess I wouldn't find her going to the mines though. That's probably the last place I'd see her.

When I was up near the mines, I took a little adventure to the train station area and noticed there was some sort of building by it that I hadn't noticed before. That's where I was heading to today since I need a break from all the work I've been doing. There are a lot of places I haven't explored yet and that building is one of them.

The sign above the door of the building says 'Bath' in bold letters with a bunch of writing beneath it. I didn't bother reading, I just walked in. My curiosity got the best of me.

The room I entered felt like a scene from a horror movie. It's dimly lit with two doors directly across from me. Besides a picture of a bathtub between the two doors, there were no other decorations.

I walked up to the two doors to get a closer look. One has a 'W' sign plastered on it while the other has an 'M' one. I tug on the door with the 'W' not expecting it to open, but it does. The force of my tug flings it wide open, nearly knocking me over in the process.

Inside, there is a long row of stalls on the right side, with a small locker area on the left. I toss my bag into one of them and keep walking down a hallway. I pass by a large vanity and shower room, and reach a small change room. There seems to be a set of clothes neatly folded up on one of the stools. Unfortunately, I was unprepared to go swimming and didn't bring a bathing suit. I stripped off my clothes so I could just go in my bra and panties. At the other end of the change room was another door which I assume led to the bath/spa. I push open the door and walk in.

The bath area was unexpectedly, insanely large. Gentle music plays over speakers scattered around the room and steam from the heat of the bath floods the air, giving it a relaxing vibe. There are a few chairs facing the bath area at the front of the room for lounging if taking a dip isn't what you are in the mood for. The side deck of the bath leads all the way around the water area, so I start pacing around, examining the water before getting in. I came to a narrowed area of the bath and walked around the corner that leads to another large water lounging area. It's not as big as the first area though, but still pretty big.

A mess of blonde hair tied up in a claw clip sticks out of the water, along with a pair of bare shoulders with frilly straps wrapping over them. There appears to be a bottle of wine behind her on the bath deck. She hasn't noticed me walking in yet.

"Hey Haley," I call out, making my voice echo against the walls of the bath. Haley screams and flails around to look at me.

"What are you doing here?! You scared me!" she slurs. She is definitely drunk.

"I saw this place when I came in on the train and decided to finally check it out." I responded. I still haven't gotten in the bath yet. Haley doesn't seem to mind because she is aggressively checking me out. The farm work has really toned my body some and I have slight abs now.

"You have such a good looking body..." Haley completely disregarded what I had just said. She is now leaning her head down on her hands on the ledge of the deck, staring up at me with admiration. She holds her hand up to me for me to take. Obediently, I bend over to take her hand and walk down the steps next to her that lead into the water. She doesn't let go of my hand and drags me over to her bottle of wine. "Want some?"

Handing the bottle over without me even answering, I take it out of her hands and open it. There was only about a drop left. I look over to her and raise my eyebrow.

"Oops. It was full when I got here..." she giggles.

I put the bottle back on the ledge and prop my elbows up behind me on the same ledge. I watch Haley dance over to me and put her arms around my neck.

"You know... Alex and I would come here to... you know..." she puts her hands up in front of my face and motions a finger into a hole made by her other fingers, "... you're lucky you didn't catch us doing that."

I made a disgusted face. I hope they clean the water of this place. "I'm sure glad I didn't walk in on that. That is not a sight I'd want to see," I awkwardly say.

"What? You don't want to see all this?" she boldly undoes her bikini and slips her top off. I quickly avert my gaze to the wall.

"Haley, put your top back on. You are drunk," I demand politely, "you will be extremely embarrassed tomorrow by the decisions you are making right now."

"I doubt it," she takes my face in her hands and turns my head so I am looking into her eyes. Her cheeks are rosy from the heat of the bath as well as from the alcohol flowing through her. I try really hard to keep my eyes on hers and not look down. "You need to relaaaaxx, that's what this place is for. It's not like you haven't seen boobs before."

"Yeah but-" I begin. Haley puts her finger to my lips before I can finish my sentence.

"Relax. Turn around," she spins me around before I could protest or question her. She takes my shoulders into her hands and starts massaging. Instantly feeling relaxed, I hunch over and lean on the bath deck.

Her soft hands move all over my back and neck. She has traced every prominent muscle on my back, as well as played connect the dots with my freckles. Not only do I have severe goosebumps all over, I have nearly fallen asleep once or twice.

"You really do have such a nice body," she says again as she traces my shoulder blade.

"Are you jealous?" I mumble while giving her a sleepy flex of my bicep. The flex always makes her giggle and blush. Without even seeing her, I can picture her reaction.

"In a way..." her hands travel down my arms causing more goosebumps to arise.

"Just work on a farm. You'll get this body no problem," I sit up and smack my bicep a couple times. "Might take some time since you are so dainty and perfect, but you'd get there."

"So if I work on a farm...I'd get your body?" She questions me with a hint of sing song in her voice.

"I mean yeah that's what I just said," I tease, "you'll be all muscly and ripped in no time. Not sure why you'd want to be-"

"That's not what I meant."

That causes me to whip around with a face of shock. Haley is giving me a little smirk and looking at my lips. Since I am facing her now, she traces along my collarbone.

"I- um-" I'm at a loss for words. Her hand has traveled to just above my chest. When sober Haley finds out what happened, she'd freak. "Listen, I'm not rejecting you, but you are drunk. You won't remember anything you are saying to me and you'll regret everything you even said." I respond softly, taking her by the shoulders and backing her up.

I think Haley has realized what she has said. Her face drops and she kind of stares off into the distance with tears welling up in her eyes. "I- I- didn't... mean that. I'm sorry." She grabs her bikini top, throws it back on, grabs the wine bottle and leaves.

I sink down so the water is just over my shoulders, and put my head in my hands. I remain that way for the rest of the day.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi! I saw your matchup requests were open so I'd like to request a romantic male matchup for Supernatural, Marvel, and DC? (if you aren't doing them feel free to ignore this! And if I requested too many fandoms, do whichever you'd like, I don't want to overload you!!)

My name is Bianca, she/her pronouns, and I'm 18. I am 5’9”, have brown wavy hair (wolfcut?), tan skin, and hazel eyes. I have an athletic sort of hourglass build? My hobbies include reading (classic literature, horror, dystopian novels), writing, painting, and running; a LOT. I absolutely love running and flex my leg muscles ironically every chance I get, which annoys everyone lol. I'm pretty active, and do boxing some archery, and XC/track. I'm always cooking or baking something, my fridge always has some type of dessert. My knowledge in random things/facts is very vast, I have too many interests and retain so much information, and I have an excellent memory. I am a big cat person and love mine to death, she is my child. I am Romanian and English is my second language, but I live in the US (that being said, I'm sorry for any mistakes I can't spell to save my life).

My style/aesthetic really varies but it's mostly like a 90s type of look, a bit dark and grungy. But in the summer, I've been told I dress like a hippy lol. Flared/baggy pants, small shirts and crop tops, leather jackets and big sweaters; otherwise I dress like Adam Sandler. I wear so much jewelry, specifically necklaces and bracelets, and am usually in some type of platform or tall shoes. I may be slightly addicted to music. I love rock/metal and rap, and occasionally some art pop. My favorite bands/artists are Guns N' Roses, Megadeth, Metallica, Future, Metro Boomin, and secretly Doja Cat and Lady Gaga.

As for my personality, that's difficult to explain. I'm an ENTP and ambivert, and am very energetic (and oftentimes dramatic) I'm short tempered (lowkey have anger issues), sarcastic, and a little mean without meaning to be. It takes a while for me to get comfortable with people, and don't really like physical touch unless I'm really close with them. However, I am very loyal to those I love, whether it be romantic or platonic, and care deeply for them. I'm both a logical and creative thinker, and put on this tough and confident persona but I can be really sensitive at times. I'm pretty funny (at least I hope so) and make remarks solely to amuse myself and sometimes others around me. Also, I have ADHD. I find it funny to confuse people and it's hilarious when they get weirded out. I'm also super talkative (which you may have realized by this essay, so sorry for rambling) but also a good listener and am always willing to listen and give advice. Overall, I'm not a very good person but I have some good qualities.

Thank you for taking the time to read this <3

(sorry if it doesn't make sense I skimmed it to proofread😭)

Hey! I'm sorry this got out and posted so late! (Btw, your request makes sense, don't worry :))!

I hope you enjoy your matchups!

(Funnily enough, I was watching Adam Sandler (Happy Gilmore) as I was making this)

Romantic Matchups; Supernatural, Marvel, and DC

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Supernatural;

Dean Winchester -

You met Dean Winchester when you were both kids, attending the same school during a very rare two years when he and the other Winchester's weren't moving around as much.

If that makes sense..?

Work with me here.

It started when Dean saw you getting teased by some slightly older kid for being "too weird" and for spouting random fun facts. Dean, ever the protective type, jumped in to stop them.

This was during middle school, by the way, kids are cruel.

As an eleven-year-old or something, Dean was kind of impressed by your encyclopedic knowledge of almost everything.

But, when he found out that you knew a lot about rock bands, that won him over instantly.

You two became fast friends, spending recess sharing snacks and swapping stories - Dean always loved your dramatic retellings of random history facts.

Dean was beginning to wish he could stay at the school, no moving, just stay in the same state, the same city, so he could continue being your friend.

He dreaded when he'd have to move again.

Surprisingly, he got to stay longer than he thought he would; to high school, he went with you.

Dean introduced you to other classical rock music, insisting Led Zeppelin IV would change your life.

In turn, you showed him your favorite Guns N' Roses tape, which he eventually admitted wasn’t half bad.

Eventually, he told you about when he and his dad did. Even though it was kind of frowned upon to let regular people know about what they were up to, he told you.

He trusted you, loved you, and knew you would blad or anything.

Just don't tell his dad he told you.

You had countless late-night talks, lying on the hood of the Impala under the stars. Dean would open up in ways he never did with anyone else, and you’d always listen, offering a quiet strength he didn’t know he needed.

And then...

When you turned 18 and got accepted into your dream college, Dean was thrilled for you - but the goodbye was bittersweet.

He didn’t say it, but it felt like he was losing a piece of himself when you left.

He had your number... But he never got the courage to call you... And then he got too busy... With hunts, you know?

And you were off doing your own thing...

Dean kind of came to the realization that you were probably doing better off without him.

You didn't need him anymore.

Years later - decades even - after you had graduated from your dream college, and found yourself working in a different city, Dean found you again while working on a case.

“I’ll be damned,” He muttered with a grin, leaning against the Impala as you stared in disbelief. “Still spouting random facts, or do I finally get some peace and quiet?”

Who knew you were going to walk out of the same grocery store that he was getting ready to walk right into?

The reunion was slightly awkward...

But you and Dean quickly slipped back into old habits effortlessly.

By this time, there was something new brewing, something deeper.

There's something there that wasn't there before... ;)

Before you knew it, you were inseparable again.

Dean’s feelings started to grow the more he spent with you.

And you found yourself drawn to Dean, in the way he protected people he cared about still, like you and Sammy, even at great personal cost.

His loyalty was something you deeply admired.

The romantic tension built slowly, with stolen glances, lingering touches, and Dean cracking jokes to hide how much he wanted to kiss you.

The first kiss happened after a particularly rough hunt. Dean came back to the motel bruised and exhausted, and you scolded him for being reckless.

"You're cute when you're mad," He then said, making you look up at him.

You held his stare, your anger wavering the longer you did as a shiver ran down your spine at the intensity.

He kissed you, slightly impulsive, but perfect.

Dating Dean means lots of road trips in the Impala, with him blasting classic rock and you sneaking in some Megadeth when he’s not looking.

You love to cook not only for yourself but Sam and Dean too; Dean loves whenever you cook or bake - will ask for pie all the time, be warned.

Dean would surprise you with little gifts after a particularly long hunt; bracelets or necklaces that match your style; either grunge or boho.

Arm wrestling matches where Dean pretends to let you win, only to be genuinely surprised by your strength.

Teaching Dean random boxing moves, even though he’s already skilled just so you can "critique his form."

Dean would make sure you are okay during intense or stressful situations; making sure you are not too overwhelmed.

If you are, he'd get you out of the situation, obviously.

Will meet your cat, though Dean doesn't know how to interact with your cat. And your cat is kind of 'meh' about him.

They warm up to each other eventually.

Dean likes to pretend he doesn't notice that you have stolen some of his clothes. He loves it when you wear his clothes, by the way.

~~~

Marvel;

Peter Parker - (Honestly, it could be any Peter, but I thought Tom's Peter worked best) -

As Tony Stark's daughter - yes, lucky you! - you've been in Peter's orbit long before he officially met you.

Yony often mentioned you casually, since you were his very smart, talented daughter after all.

He described you as “a little too much like me - God help the world.”

(By the way, your dad loves spoiling you because you are so cool, you don't act spoiled at all.)

You officially met Peter at the Avengers Compound when Tony introduced you during one of the days you hung out with Bruce Banner.

You came to the compound every Sunday to learn more from Banner and have him help you with your homework if you needed help at all.

You noticed Peter’s awkwardness immediately, making you think about how you were probably acting awkward as well.

Awkward.

You didn't know how you got there, but you ended up accidentally rambling about some random historical fact to him.

Peter was immediately smitten but tried to play it cool, which was hard when you were both witty, smart, and gorgeous.

Peter quickly became your favorite person to banter with, as he could keep up with your fast-paced humor.

Yeah, Peter thought you were pretty funny.

And you even laughed at his jokes too!

You bonded over a shared love of learning and your habit of talking too much about random topics.

Peter loves to text you often with pictures to check in with you when he's on a mission or when you aren't together for some reason.

You’d bake cookies together in the Stark kitchen, with Peter marveling at your skills while simultaneously breaking every egg wrong.

Somehow everything is covered in flour or with eggshells everywhere and in everything.

Peter started to realize that he was falling for you when he found you rushing up to him at the Tower. There was a bright smile on your face and a book in your hands as you ran up to him, telling him all about the new book that you had just finished and needed to tell him all about.

You fell for Peter when you saw how kind he was. He was always putting others before himself, even at his own expense.

The romantic tension built up when you were both staying up late on a school night working on a shared project together.

But, you only had your first kiss when Peter saved you from a dangerous situation.

Peter was rambling, freaking out, and checking you for any injuries when you just pulled him close and kissed him, shutting him up.

Dating Peter involves lots of movie nights where he insists on marathoning old sci-fi movies you secretly enjoy too.

He’d love how you sneak little treats into his backpack when he’s not looking, and you’d adore how he always checks in to make sure you’re safe. Even though he knows that you can take care of yourself.

Peter would always bring you coffee during late-night study sessions, even if it meant webbing across the city at 3 a.m.

He doesn't mind.

He'll do anything for you.

Helping him fix his Spidey suit, adding tiny upgrades just to mess with him. "What about a hidden button that can dispense cookies?"

Dancing together in the lab to Metro Boomin'.

Secretly listening to Lady Gaga together.

Loves gifting your new clothing, especially sweaters.

~~~

DC;

Wally West -

You met Wally West during your first week working with the Justice League.

As a new hero with impressive powers, you caught Wally’s attention immediately.

And as a self-proclaimed "Lady's Man", he approached you with his trademark charm, wanting to break the ice.

You impressed him when you beat him during a sparring lesson, showing off your boxing skills, and leaving him speechless on the mat.

Wally loved how energetic and witty you were, making it easy to strike up a quick friendship.

You bonded over your shared love of fitness, often going on runs together and trying to outpace each other.

He slows down for you so you can actually have fun together.

You like to prank each other sometimes. Nothing too bad, but fun and silly.

He likes to hide your jewelry or platform shoes from you, and you like to swap his snacks out with broccoli and put saran wrap on the doorway.

Wally fell for you one eventful night of fighting Lex Luthor.

Afterward, he watched as you made sure he was alright, making sure he wasn't badly injured.

He loved how deeply you cared for people, especially when you cared for him.

You realized you had feelings for Wally when he stayed up all night with you after a tough mission, he wanted to make sure you were okay.

The tension grew as Wally became more protective of you during missions, always cracking jokes to mask his worry.

Do friends go to the fair together?

I would guess so.

Totally normal thing.

Totally normal for Wally to win that plushie you saw hanging from a game booth.

Totally normal for you both to share elephant ears, beats having to buy two.

Totally normal for you both to go on the Ferris wheel together.

And totally normal for you two to kiss-

Wait.

It happened on the Ferris wheel. You were sitting side by side, watching the twinkling lights of the fair, you clutched the plush to your chest... And then, you both went to say something at the same time.

Awkward but cute.

Your heart was racing.

His was always racing, but it was racing more than usual :)

Your eyes met, and then...

Dating Wally means constant adventures, from impromptu road trips to late-night runs through the city.

Yeah, he still slows down for you.

Wally adores how much you challenge him and how much you make him laugh.

Will obviously go to you when he needs advice.

He totally would propose to you with a Dollar Store Ring Pop. Strawberry flavored.

Loves your cat, will bring treats and toys for your kitty. They are best friends.

Bro, you got ADHD, Wally's got ADHD, he understands and totally gets all the struggles.

If you need time alone for any reason, will make sure you have everything you need - and if you don't, he will run and get you what you need - and then he'd run off and do something while he waits for you.

Kind of clingy, but will understand if you need physical space from him.

He will steal your clothes. He likes wearing your sweaters, jackets, and even your jewelry.

[dotieeee]

Perhaps an unusual spicy idea: a gal sets up everything for a nice evening for herself--candles, aromatherapy, a vibrator, a dildo...only to accidentally re-create some kind of ancient sex spell that summons Desire. Desire is actually amused enough that someone got it right after so many centuries that they decide to play along and help out 👀

OOOOHHH this is an interesting idea!! I haven't written Desire in such a way so I will give it a shot!!! Sorry it took so long!!

***

Everything had been going according to plan. This was a rare day off where you had not much else to do, so you did everything at home you could possibly do to pamper yourself: you tried on that organic hair conditioner you had been saving because it was too expensive to use on a regular day; that tightening, pore-removing face mask you had bought ages ago on impulse; you did your nails (it was abysmal work, but hey, it felt nice); you ordered in a fancy meal and capped it with a glass of that red wine that had been sitting in your fridge since the last holidays. This last bit of me-time was supposed to be a cherry on top of a great day.

Instead, you were backed into the furthest corner of your bed, wide-eyed and frozen in place in disbelief at the human that had appeared in a cloud of red smoke, sat on the edge of your mattress.

They looked insanely beautiful, that was true, but that didn't really help the fact that they somehow got into your room, and they were wearing a latex catsuit with a neckline that dipped to their toned stomach, revealing a taut chest and the most enviable collarbones a person could possess.

And they wore cat ears.

"Having fun, aren't we?"

Their voice was like honey: smooth, sweet, and slightly teasing. Behind those pretty golden eyes was a hint of devious amusement, and those lips, painted flawlessly in crimson, were curled into a smile that revealed a perfect set of teeth.

"Darling, I know I'm drop-dead gorgeous; you don't have to look so gob-smacked," they said with a lilting laugh, tucking a lock of their blonde hair behind their ear with a perfectly-manicured nail. It put yours to shame.

You managed an unintelligble stutter, but you had meant to ask "How did you get here? Who the fuck are you?"

They merely giggled at your pitiful attempt to make speech. "I just love it when they get this flustered.

"I'm Desire, darling, and you summoned me."

You summoned who, exactly?

They seemed to ignore your bewildered look in favour of your little me-time altar, set in an orderly fashion on your little nightstand. They walked over to it, their cattail swinging behind them, inspecting your...display. Candles in varying scents - vanilla, pumpkin spice -

"Jasmine..." your unexpected guest purred, picking up the candle, and toying with its flame with a slender finger.

They placed it back down and inspected a crystal you remember buying at a mall stall ages ago because of the pretty colour. The woman explained what the stone was, but honestly you had nothing but the groceey list in mind you had forgotten what it was called.

"It's called celestite, my dear," they commented in an amused tone, as if they were reading your thoughts. "You mortals, buying anything and everything just because 'it's pretty.'" They flicked their eyes to you and added, "I approve."

To your horror, they picked up something else from the table, something you had hoped they'd brush over. They twirled the egg-shaped vibrator in their hand.

"This was your main event, wasn't it, darling?"

With a giggle that startled you, they launched themselves on the bed, lading on their back, and put their legs up in the air, swishing it back and forth. They held the vibrator in the light like they were inspecting diamonds.

"I'd never thought someone would finally get it right after so many centuries!"

They continued to laugh delightedly as their eyes landed on you, still curled up on the corner of your own bed, still fucking clueless. They rolled on their stomach and propped their cheek up on their palm.

"Something tells me you have absolutely no idea what you just did."

You swallowed the lump on your throat and finally summoned the will to speak. "What exactly did I do?"

Lazily, they tapped the space beside them, urging you to lay on it. For some reason unknown to you, you did as you were told, never once taking your eyes off them. There was something off about them, but it was mesmerzing.

"अहं त्वां याचयामि, अतीव दीर्घकालं यावत् अभवत्। अद्य रात्रौ मां प्रीत्या आशीर्वादं ददात."

They spoke in a language you have not heard of before. They drew a line on your forearm, giving you goosebumps all over. You were quite disappointed when they stopped.

"That was Sanskirt, darling," they explained. "Summoning me. Tell me, before I graced your home with my presence, what was the last thing you said? Don't be shy now, I won't bite." Then they winked and flashed a toothy smile.

You felt heat creeping up your cheeks as you repeated the words, finding yourself unable to look into their eyes. "'I hope I get an orgasm from this, it has been so long.'"

A finger tilted your chin up to look into those golden eyes. That's when it hit you: they were Desire, the very thing you had asked for. You licked your lips unconsciously as you stared into theirs, noting how red they were, and how they must taste like cherries.

"That's the spell. You asked for me, so let's make it worthwhile, shall we?"

The way they whispered so close to you had your insides melting, and you could only nod, totally under the spell of the otherworldly being you had inadvertently summoned. With a hum, they made a swift move to get on top of you and captured your lips with theirs.

Cherries.

Whatever the fuck you did, you were damn sure you'd do all over again.

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Don't Wake Me Up

Follow on from Lost Little Witch, ft @idiotwithanipad 's OC Amy.

-

"Uhh, hi?"

Silver sat upright, turning her head towards the voice. A head has poked itself out from the fridge door; black hair and a chunky pair of earphones framing the face of a girl her own age.

"Woah, sorry, uhm...Didn't mean to disturb you, or if you were planning on sleeping here...on the floor, if that's something you do." The girl apologised when she saw Silver's stricken face, fear clenching in her chest at being discovered.

The Pagan didn't reply. Keep mouth shut. Talking is useless anyway.

"This probably looks weird as fuck, right? Honestly, I don't make a habit of hiding in the fridge. Just that one of the waiters left an open can of Monster in there and I didn't want it to go to waste." The strange girl gave her a crooked smile.

None of those words made much sense. Why were there waiters in the house? Alison could barely afford to have builders on the site, let alone her own staff. What was a monster doing in a can in the fridge?

At least this was beginning to feel more like a regular dream, in that it had moments of complete nonsense.

Silver hugged her knees to her chest and waited for the strange girl to leave.

"Ohhkay, how about we start over." Instead of disappearing back inside the white container, she stepped out, wearing a baggy black hoodie, a blue tartan skirt, ripped leggings and a pretty kickass pair of boots beneath some beige legwarmers. Silver blinked. Her kind of style...

Of course her brain would invent something new but also familiar.

The girl sat on the floor in front of her, crossing her legs.

"I'm Amy. I died here nearly ten years ago. Choked on an energy drink. Trust me, I wish that was a joke." She snorted, then picked at her legwarmers, "I like your boots. They're pretty sick."

Sick? Why would she like them if they were sick? Is she making fun of her, like the girls at school?

Silver wants to compliment her boots. Her mouth opens, but the words die before reaching her tongue.

There was a pause as the other girl seemed to struggle to keep the conversation going one-sided.

"Humphrey said you're a witch? That's awesome. Did you ever, like, curse anyone?" She then bit her lip; "Oh fuck, sorry if that's offensive or anything. I'm just going by what I've seen in movies. You like horror films? They're some of my favorites but most of these guys are proper scardey cats!"

Silver's lip twitched in the corner as a memory threatened to re-emerge from the depths. Movie night. Her choice. Blair Witch Project. Everyone, including Alison and even Robin, cowering behind pillows or the sofa as the protagonists descended into the basement.

Has the girl seen it? There was almost no gore in the film, would she think it tame by some of the other stuff she's probably seen? She should ask. She wants to ask.

Silver takes a breath and opens her mouth.

Then shuts it.

Amy seems to take note of the failed attempt. She shuffles forward. Silver flinches, hands trembling.

"Look....I know you can speak." She said, bluntly.

Silver gasped, frowning.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just heard you whispering while I was in the fridge." Amy said, defensively. "The others all think you just forgot how to but...You can still talk. Can't you?"

Whimpering, Silver hugged her knees and shook her head. No, no, no, no.

How much had she heard?!

"Hey! I get it!" Amy said, raising her hands, "I'm not always the most sociable person either. This is probably the most anyone has got me to talk, so well done. My first week here I barely spoke to anyone and hid in my room because they all kept trying to poke their nose in. Well, you know what they're like."

The Pagan continued to pick and pinch at the sheaves on her hands. Yes. The others could be very...overwhelming. Or they had been to her at first, then she appeared once a month to annoy them all in kind.

"Robin and Kitty are cool though. They're probably my best friends, even if Robin likes to act more like an irritating uncle most of the time." Amy continued, "Kitty's fun but can sometimes be too much energy for me, especially in the mornings. Pat's not too bad. The others, depends what mood I'm in. Mary, I..."

"Ma."

Amy paused for a moment at the single syllable uttered from her new companion.

"Yeah, Mary...I mean she's always been kind, but...I always thought she was quiet. Always looked a little sad when she thought no one was watching. I can see why now." She said, softly.

Guilt twisted inside Silver.

"Ma..." She didn't want Mary to be sad. She shouldn't be sad anymore. Not after all this time. She's moved on, surely. No one would still be crying over her.

"She seems over the moon now though. The moment she saw you in the basement was the happiest she's ever sounded." Amy continued, "Oh! And those guys, the plague ghosts? They're kinda like family to me too. Sometimes I get along with them better than the upstairs lot. We, uhm...have similar health issues. Don't worry, I ain't infected, ha." Amy chuckled, "Not with anything contagious. But they...They get me. But still not as much as Humphrey. Or 'Dad', I should say."

Silver met her eyes, brow furrowed in confusion. She could let all the other random info wash over her like nonsense but that...was a strange detail.

"Yeah, can you believe it? I died and ended up with a dad." Amy smiled and rolled her eyes, "Not exactly what I imagined I'd get in Heaven but....I never had a dad, so the bar was on the floor. And he's....He's always been there for me. Patient with me, more than most are. So, few years ago, Alison made it all official. Proper certificate and everything. And now I'm officially Amy Bone! Fuck, if I told my friend Shan that I'm now technically a 'Lady', she'd pull a stitch from laughing her arse off."

Silver blinked.

"Humphrey has no daughter."

The words came out as clear as day. Autonomous.

Amy gave her a funny look, "Well, not by blood he don't, no, but as he said, that don't mean anything. He wants to be my dad and I'm cool with that so he's my dad."

"Humphrey has no daughter."

She repeats it. Fact. Break the rules. Disrupt the matrix.

Amy tenses and shuffles back a bit.

"He might not have when you were around but he does now. You got a problem with it?" She asked, defensively; "Or with me?"

Silver slapped the floor beside her.

"You don't belong here."

"What?" Amy startled.

"You shouldn't be here! Wrong! You're all wrong! Wrong! Wrong! You don't belong here! Go away!" Her voice rose with each syllable, her hand slamming on the floor with enough force to crack a tile if she were real.

"Fucking Jesus Christ!" Amy jumped to her feet; "Who the fuck are you to tell me where I belong?! You think I chose to die in this place!? You don't think I tried to escape for the first few years?! Or make myself disappear like you did?!"

Silver gripped her hair and closed her eyes.

"Stop talking! Stop talking! You're not real! None of this is real! It should all be the same, always the same, but you're not, you're new! New and wrong! New and WRONG!"

"Fuck you, you crazy witch bitch! I'm not the one who should leave! You can do us all a favour and go back to the fucking dirt!"

"STOMPY!"

Both girls froze as Robin passed through the wall in time to hear Amy's tirade. She looked at him, her eyes red with angry tears.

Mary followed in shortly after, quickly rushing to where Silver sat.

"Darling girl! You scared the deadings daylights outta me!"

She knelt beside the quivering girl and tried to gather her into her arms.

But Silver continued to glare at Amy, as if she was the main disturbance here. For the tortured Wiccan, she was. She was the anomaly. The house becoming a hotel and Alison moving away were all changes based on things her mind would have caught before. It made sense she would dream about.

But never before has her mind conjured a whole person. A girl with her own backstory and personality. A girl who was trying to be her friend. It was all strange and new enough to be....real.

And it can't be. It can't ever be.

"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!" She points a shaking finger at Amy before trying to scramble away from Mary's worried embrace; "Get away, get away, get away, get away..."

Amy grit her teeth, struggling to hold back tears.

"I was trying to be friendly. Fuck that." She scoffed.

Robin's brief anger cooled into sympathy. He wiped her face with his sleeve.

"It fine. Go find dad. We sort this." He told her, gently.

Silver continued to mutter and cry, utterly hysterical, as the girl turned to give her one sad look before disappearing through the door.

Her absence didn't solve anything.

Why isn't she waking up? Why isn't she back in the dirt? How can she feel the warmth of Mary's hands on her face? When Robin comes to kneel beside her, how can she feel his furs?

Stop it. Stop it.

Don't make it real. Don't make her want to stay.

He won't like it if she tries to stay.

[nitewrighter]

I've had @retrocatastrophy's roommates AU for Elric and Conan on the brain so I wanted to write them a little somethin' somethin'.

----

It's midnight and Conan is standing at the fridge with the door open eating cottage cheese directly out of the carton. Elric is watching him pointedly from the beat-up couch in the living room, white hair tied up in a bun secured by a wooden hair fork, journal in his lap filled with morbid chicken-scratch that is somehow both fluidly spidery and almost as angular as cuneiform.

"Did you forget to eat again?" Conan's voice from the kitchen is both warped and muffled.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Elric resumes writing.

"Elric."

"I had a late lunch."

"Get some cereal or something."

"Mm-hm."

Conan steps out of the kitchen, now holding a beer, and leans against the living room wall. "Did you wait up for me?"

Elric snorts a little. Conan glances over at the TV, where a campy-looking film is playing at a low volume. Background noise. "I'd be up this late anyway," he replies.

The couch cushions squeak and rock beneath them both as Conan practically backwards-bodyslams into a slumped lounging position, cracking open a light beer and nursing the foam off the top of the can. "Taarna wants to hang out next week."

"Mm?"

"As in, you'd be hanging out too."

Elric weighs this for a bit longer than a normal person would. "...I can do next week," he says, slowly tripping from word to word.

"You could have tagged along tonight."

"I don't 'tag along.' If you want me to come, invite me, and give me some time beforehand to prep."

Conan just gives a short exhale out of his nostrils at this before sipping his beer.

"What?" says Elric.

"What do you mean 'What?'" says Conan.

"I can tell when you're thinking of something and you've decided not to say it," says Elric, "What is it?"

"Just... you'd get better at the 'spontaneous hangout' thing if you actually... hung out."

Elric is giving him one of those narrow looks again.

"...are you gonna get the cereal--?" Conan starts and Elric makes a frustrated noise and pushes his journal off onto the end table.

"I'll get the damn cereal--" he mutters, sulking to the kitchen.

"What's the movie?" Conan calls after him, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume.

"Horror Express," Elric's answer is punctuated by the closing fridge.

"Nice," says Conan as Elric re-takes his seat next to him, more carefully to accommodate a cereal bowl.

They watch for a few minutes before Elric says, "Taarna actually mentioned me? Like, by name?"

"Well, yeah, you're both spooky and distant and when you actually start to come out of your shell and have fun, then you both get fucking deranged."

Elric's shrewd narrow look has softened to mild exhaustion at this point. Getting something in his stomach does take the some of the edge off, even if the guy is like, 60% edge.

"Which... I mean in a good way?" Conan adds on a little too late, "Like, you get along, is what I'm saying."

Elric almost smiles at this.

"So what's the monster tonight?" Conan glances back at the screen.

"Frozen caveman vampire," Elric says between crunches of cereal.

"Nice."

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I don't have a lot of energy these days [because of The Horrors] so I'm looking at my day and my priorities and trying to plan how I'm going to spend what energy I have, because I do need to be able to rest and relax but there are also things that need doing and that is a careful balance for me.

I managed to [mostly] clean the kitchen last night so I've kicked it out of the priority list until next weekend. Unfortunately the living room, bathroom, bedroom, and my office all need cleaning too. I think of the priorities, my office and the bedroom are the most important to me, so I'll probably push the living room and bathroom until at least Friday.

There's also the laundry. I don't have any clean clothes and as we're moving into winter I need to be more rigid about getting that done because days where the clothes can be dried on the line will be more limited. So I definitely need to wash an outfit or two and hang them up in the next hour.

That's already a really busy day, so I'll probably cut it there. But it's definitely going to still leave me a lot of work this week. Half my cleaning, at least one more round of laundry, settling dog food for the next couple of weeks, planting the fall/winter greens, doing some set up work on my computer, work on some writing projects, cleaning out the fridge, and patching some worn clothes. My work week isn't insane atm, but it is definitely limiting. Right now I have 6+4+0+4+2+5+5= 25 non work/non-survival needs (sleep, food, shower, etc) hours available each week. I need to figure out a regukar distribution of these that means everything is getting done and I still have an hour a day to myself as often as possible. I think it's probably not realistic to give myself more than an hour a day for free time/fun, which is a bit unfortunate because I've found in the past that my floor tends to be getting 2-3hrs of free time most days because of how I deal with transition and decision-making.

25-7 [1hr per day] is 18 hrs, so I just need to decide where and how to distribute those in order to keep pace with things.

Lets say the garden needs 3hrs per week, the laundry needs 4 hours (specifically 2 sets of 2 morning/early afternoon hours), the cleaning needs an hour a day to get through a maintenance clean of the house, and 3 hours once a week to work down any deep cleaning that's built up. Which is....already three more hours than I actually have each week. So I guess I'll make a plan to work in the garden for 20-40min of 4 of my free hours each week.

It really doesn't leave me any wiggle room. Only about 4 hours a week that isn't explicitly allotted to something that needs doing, which means there will probably me a lot of weeks where I only get an hour or so at best across the whole thing for free time. I guess I've had a hard time accepting that at this point, having actual time for myself or a time-intensive project is only available if I've taken a day off work. I love my job, but it's ... not comfortable to realize that it's the only love in my life I actually have time for anymore.

I think that's probably why I end up here so much. It's this mindless little way of zoning out into my own head, dissociating away from the exhaustion, for a few minutes at a time. I keep thinking I want to use this space differently, make it more if the things I enjoy. But I think what I really want is just to actually have the time and energy to do things I love that take work. I keep crying a few times every day and I couldn't figure out why, but like

I dunno

Why **wouldn't** I cry a little every day? It's the closest I'm getting to actual emotional release or relaxation in my life. We'd probably all cry. Heck. A lot of us probably DO, capitalism being what it is.

I guess I'm starting to wonder why I'm doing what I'm doing. What is there left for me to sacrifice to this life? What is actually serving me about not just letting myself go up like a fireball and take my surroundings with me? What in the ever loving fuck am I fighting this hard for?

All I ever want, all I want now, is to be able to live. To really, actually live. How does wanting to live bring you this close to killing yourself, whether on accident or on purpose? What am I actually doing that is LIVING and what am I doing that is FACILITATION of living? It can't all be facilitation, or I'm not actually facilitating fuck all.

I'm 30 goddamn years old and I need to figure out what it looks like to actually love my life. I fundamentally refuse to zombify myself like this for everyone else around me forever.

[dingertdongert]

Chapter 9

Content warning: One mention of sex, that's it.

The first thing you saw as soon as the gift shop area came into view after walking through the large, open doors of the museum, was Steven leaning over the desk, expectingly holding his hand out.

Rolling your eyes, you reached inside your bag and pulled out the Tupperware. You ignored his open hand and walked behind the desk, placing it next to him instead causing him to respond with a playful frown.

'I've been looking forward to these all weekend' he said giddily, already popping the tub open. 'Do you not want to at least savour them?'

'Well, I forgot to have breakfast' he mumbled, food already in his mouth when you were mid question.

'I'm going to choose to ignore that, though I'm not pleased' you said sternly, pointing a finger at him, 'a more important question is how are you so early?'

'Well I was just so excited obviously' he said with a beaming smile, clearly trying to make you forget about his self neglect. It very nearly worked as well, until you remembered Steven always made his lunch in the morning.

'Did you even pack a lunch for today?' he paused mid chew, eyes widening. 'Oh bugger, I completely forgot about that'

You laughed 'God how do you continue to survive?' Steven nodded in agreement and replied 'I think I'm a scientific marvel to be honest with you'.

'Clinical trials and studies do pay a fair bit, just saying' you teased. There was truth to the matter though, from you've been told by him, he doesn't sleep, and he barely eats. How he has the energy to be standing is an amazing feat, let alone work a 9-5, travel everyday, and stay up afterwards. You worry about him each time it's brought up, but if Steven is content joking about it, then why ruin it for him by being serious.

'Did you remember your lunch for today, huh?' He interrupted your train-of-thought by playing you at your own game, staring at you demandingly for an answer. Now it was your turn for your eyes to open in horror, realising that you failed to pick up the second container of food in your fridge, which was next to the one that was now sat on the desk. Your lack of satisfaction instigated rage has now left you without food for the day. Your shoulders dropped and you let out a heavy sigh.

'Ha, gotcha' he quipped, with almost too much glee for your liking, and you responded with a firm scowl. 'Something's up with you today, I could tell as soon as you walked through those doors' he said, squinting at you with suspicion.

'And?' you replied cattily. 'Aaand' he answered, gesturing at you with both hands, a dough-ball pinched between two fingers, trying to summon an answer from you. You folded your arms and lifted an eyebrow at him in response. He rolled his eyes 'And, I'm waiting for you to tell me what's got your knickers in a twist'

You scoffed. The nerve of him, to even dare mention knickers. It's almost like he knew, the crafty bastard. 'Come on, tell me what's wrong, please? You're getting me worried now' he probed, looking at you with those big, dark eyes.

'I'm fine Steven, really'

'Really?'

'Yes, just a little... frustrated. The morning didn't start the way I wanted it to'. He nodded in understanding, though his mornings not going to plan probably took on a different meaning to what had actually happened in your scenario.

'I know what to do to cheer you up'

'Oh yeah?' you said, beginning to smile.

'Yeah, there's a mexican place, about a 10 minute walk from here. Honestly mate, their burritos are banging, I swear to you. Let me surprise you with the filling, okay?'

'Okay' you nodded, trying not to show a look of solemn disappointment on your face. It was ringing through your head.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

At least he was making it clear from the get go, you didn't have to embarrass yourself by asking him any questions about Saturday. Did you have fun? How are your books? Do you like me? Was it a date? Would you consider having sex with me?

He'd made it all so much easier now, clearly he didn't feel any particular way at all. About that day or you.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

Steven continued to ramble on about this restaurant to you. In all honesty you couldn't hear what he was talking about. All sounds around you had become dull and quiet as your mind carried on ringing that one word out over and over again, like a bell.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

'Hey, Y/N!'

'Huh?' you shook your head, trying to clear your mind of the sudden fuzz. 'Yeah, what's up?' you tried to give Steven a smile. It probably came off as a more pained grimace, but he seemed to fall for it.

'You don't have any allergies, right?'

[wickedmoonlite]

KinnPorsche Rewatch 2023

Reminder: as we go into heavier topics in KP (dub-con/non-con, toxic behaviors, etc.), I will not be doing deep dives. I’m planning on taking this just below surface value as these are literally thoughts I have in the moment as I’m watching. Thank you.

Episode 8 Random Thoughts

I like that this episode opens and KP have spent the night together. It just shows a little bit of relationship growth.

Gotta scramble, P. Get those clothes on.

"My legs are still shaking." Jesus.

✨Bread✨ I was yelling at my tv the first time I watched this scene lmao.

The scene where they're going through to the bedroom and they're just destroying everything is so good. And the window push, and the lick, good lord.

P said "I need to treat my man and show him that I'm cereal, help me goddess of Hum Bar."

But where did they put their fancier clothing??? Did they just leave it in that random café bathroom?

I enjoy how hard P is working to make their day memorable. Date days like that are so fun, especially at the beginning of a relationship. And they are worth so much more the longer you're together.

The day was perfect though, P. K is happy, you should be too.

THANK YOU FOR GIVING HIM A PHONE, FUCK.

Creepy Tawan is creepy.

Also, I dislike Tawan so much. But like, I also understand why he is the way he is?

Because they definitely wouldn't have heard the water splash lmao. But the underwater kiss is so good.

That fucking drawing. I lose it every time.

Calling Kinn slutty and promiscuous like you weren't fucking women in the back of a bar Porsche??

Oh Pete. So innocent. Those are hickeys, my man. KP be fucking.

Hmm. I never noticed that Kim and Chay end up standing on what is essentially a chessboard? (I'm watching on my computer instead of my tv right now so things are a bit closer)

Once again, Kim gives in to Chay and listens to his song. He really is trying his damnedest to not give in to the feelings but can't help the little looks he gives Chay. Ugh. Just give in to the love, man. Dumbass.

Then the look at the end like, fuck I'm screwed. This boy is getting to me.

There's basically nothing in that fridge but water and 4 eggs.

I love how Tankhun kicks Porsche out his own damn self rather than having Pete, Arm, or Pol do it.

Idk, if my TV came on randomly and the light started flickering like that after watching a horror movie/show, I'd probably freak out too.

I don't get why Kinn doesn't just tell Porsche the whole truth (I mean, yeah, plot device, but fuuuuuck). Like, for fuck's sake, just tell him Tawan is still alive. Get it out in the open rather than keeping it secret. You're supposed to love and trust each other, right? Damn.

See. Things ended up coming out anyway. jUST TELL PORSCHE THE TRUTH, GOT DAMN.

I always need more KimChay but I shall never get it :') Anyway, Episode 9 next!

[mockingbirdshymn]

Tag Game: This or That Writer's Edition

tagged by @pens-swords-stuff and so. IT IS TIME!!!!

Btw for those I tag, you don’t have to do this or whatever it’s just a silly fun thing I’m doing

- Historical or Futuristic?

Futuristic, if only for the sake of not having to research every single goddamn thing about the 1800s or whatever. Reading wise, though, it’s definitely Historical.

- The opening or closing chapter?

Closing chapter omfg. Like. ITS SO SATISFYING TO WRITE. It’s a cherry on top. It’s what hits the hardest. Opening chapters are amazing to write, but ending chapters? Hit me write in the feels to both read and write. It’s the end of an adventure for both the author and reader.

- Light&Fluffy or Dark&Gritty?

If I’m reading, I adore light and fluffy. Writing wise, and assuming that’s what this context is because it’s from a writeblr account, DARK FOR THE WIN. Angst is so fun to write like. Oh my god. It’s so fun idk how to say it I just love writing it.

- Animal companion or found family?

Kicks my dadvid and momgwen aus under the fridge. Yeah I’d say I like found family. It’s genuinely the best. Finding familial comfort in other people and getting a family when before you didn’t have one. It’s just. I love.

- Horror or romance?

Writing wise it has to be horror. It’s easier lmao. But it also depends on the fandom. For Camp Camp its definitely romance, but overall I like writing horror. I barely write it tho

- Hard or soft magic system?

Idk what this means but I’m assuming it means complex and not complex and I have to say complex. Making those complicated rules is like a little adventure for me. I love worldbuilding sm it’s insane

- Standalone or series?

I don’t rlly write series when it comes to fics. I’ll write sequels and spin-offs but never with the intention for a linear storyline to be spread between fics. For actual books I love writing series, tho I haven’t published anything yet, so I’m going with this for fics

- One project at a time or always juggling 2+ projects?

My current list of projects -

1- Longest oneshot ever, name pending

2- Space Kid Dadvid Momgwen AU ft Max

3- Showtime which I hate now I literally despise the first chapter

4- That one SK and Dolph friendship fic

5- Gwenvid oneshot where the campers play matchmaker and plot twist it works

6- Road trip fic hell yeah

The only real active one is the name pending oneshot, because I love working on it, but every now and then I’ll write a bit for the others.

- One award winner or one bestseller?

Haha I’m actually working on a book right now, and if I end up getting it publish I’d adore it being a bestseller. One, because I adore the idea of that many people reading something I made. Two, because when picking out books to read, bestseller catches my eye more than awards, oddly enough. I mostly write fics tho. Translating this into hits vs kudos, probably hits? But comments are better than everything ever actually. Ily people who do that

- Fantasy or Sci-Fi?

Inhales and exhales. I FUCKING LOVE FANTASY. Oh my god it’s amazing. I wrote a fae fic once for another fandom that was never published. I really liked that one. Fantasy can be so awesome in so many AUs. I like sci-fi but fantasy wins for this one.

- Character or setting description?

I like both lol. I scarcely do really detailed descriptions, but I like both of them equally. Setting is a bit easier and more common in my writing, I think, so I’ll go with that.

- First or final draft?

FINAL DRAFTS ARE SO SATISFYING OMG. To read your fic and fix all the last mistakes, then at least get to publish it? Its so satisfying. Like. It all finally being done. It’s incredible, especially when the fic is one you’ve worked on for a while.

- Love triangle or no romantic plots?

Does a poly relationship count as a love triangle? If so, yes. But I also enjoy writing some good ol’ gen fics. Love triangles where it ends in like choosing one or the other always irks me, idk why

- Constant sandstorm or rainstorm?

Is this a metaphor. My autistic ass could never. But I like the rain and writing the rain soooo ummmmm id say that? Tell me if i missed the actual meaning and I’ll edit it ahdkdjdhe

Uhh ppl I’ll tag to continue this or whatever idk I’ve never done this before lmao: @oreayourlocalannoyingidiot @fruit-kick @personification-of-sloth IDK IF THE LAST TWO OF U WRITE STUFF! SKIP THIS IF YOU DONT

[graveyardbard]

Haunted By The Ghost of You | Part 2

*does a fun little dance because we passed the hump of awkward realizations*

⸻⸻⸻

Rating: SFW Length: 2K Pairing: Established Poly!Ghostface (Billy and Stu) x GN! Reader | Warnings: Descriptions of death, Gore, Strong horror elements, and Manipulation Tags: Paranormal, Ghost, Breaking “Ghost” rules, Re-materialization

⸻⸻⸻

Months had passed since your untimely death. Every effort you made to break the two psychopaths that ended your life came up short. They continued on with their rampage through Woodsboro, ending the lives of anyone involved with Billy’s make-believe girlfriend. You weren’t surprised, neither of them held any remorse for what they were doing. What did surprise you, was the comfort they’d developed with your ghostly presence in their home. 

“Did you ever get that info from the historic media professor, Stu?” Billy asked, as he perched at the kitchen island.

“Uhhh…” Stu sat the small vintage controller down on the coffee table and grabbed his backpack. “I think so! He gave me a hard time about it, man. Said I should “focus up if I wanna make it in life”, Like I couldn’t make it on my own or something.” 

The tall man stood up, arm still digging around the mess of papers in his bag. He pulled a wrinkled page out, glancing over it to make sure it was the right information. “Got it. Here you go, He also said to try and make a “personal connection” with the source material.” 

Billy simply grunted and gave his partner a nod as he took the paper. His dark eyes scanned the half legible writing as you floated over to him. 

“Maybe you should do a report on all the killing you do.” You jabbed at him, as your form phased through the island and you rested your head right next to his work. “Cute. But that's not gonna happen. Looks like we need to watch an old black and white film and see if we can connect with it. Any recommendations for that?” Billy looked at you with a smirk as he sat his pen down. You grimaced and thought for a second. It felt like a slap to the face, mostly because you were the only one in that class that paid attention. Milling over the question, you perked up. “Belle De Jour! It’s an international film, a bit risque but definitely a great watch.” Stu chuckled, as he closed the fridge behind you. “The french film about a housewife turned hooker? Really?” “Not a hooker, you animal. She wanted something fresh and fun to do, so she took a friend's advice and became a call girl. It's different.” You retorted, turning your attention back to Billy. “What do you think? It’s not that bad, and it gets a bit… horror-eque. But it has a good message.” “Yeah, don’t become a “call girl”.” Stu cracked open the can of soda in his hand, pulling up a stool to the island. “Come on, Billy, we can watch something better than Belle De Jour. What about Bloodsport? Or Citizen Kane?” 

“Nah, I think I wanna try Belle. Sounds fun. Plus if our little ghost likes it, it can’t be that bad.” Billy reached out as if to pat your head but stopped short remembering that you couldn’t be touched.

“I’m not yours, Loomis. I’m just stuck with you.” You grumbled sinking further into the counter, eyes peering at him. “You keep telling yourself that.” Billy stood up, dusting his jeans. “Come on, Stu. Let’s grab the movie and come back.” “Man, I don’t want to watch some lame-o french movie.” Stu whined. 

“I’ll grab you a copy of Blair Witch.” The brunette bribed his boyfriend. “And one of those extra large candy bars you like.” You turned your attention to the other man, who was squinting hard at Billy. He finally sucked his teeth and stood up. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that Billy?” “I don’t think my cuteness has anything to do with you being a soft sack.” Billy grabbed his keys and headed towards the front door. “Y/N. Do you want anything?” “I– What?” This wasn’t the first time either of the Ghostface Killers of Woodsboro asked you if you’d wanted anything, or even considered you in this kinda stuff. Didn’t mean it didn’t catch you off guard any less. “Uhm… There's a new Scooby Doo movie out… maybe that?” “Got it.” Billy pulled the door open into Stu’s hand, ducking under the long limb. “We’ll be back, Casper. Don’t break anything.” Stu gave you a wink before closing the door. ⸻⸻⸻

It didn’t take long for them to get back to the apartment but long enough for you to have taken up a cozy spot by the sliding glass door in the living room. Your mind was racing as you thought of all the instances of their strangely endearing brand of affection. Why do they even care if you were… happy or entertained or even around? It baffled you to no end. You tucked yourself a bit tighter, lost deeper in your thoughts. Stu wasn’t as…cruel as you’d first experienced. Outside of the infrequent snide comment, he was fun to be around. Maybe it’s because of appearances but he was always willing to make you laugh. Billy was definitely a caring person, even if it didn’t seem like it at first. He made sure you were okay, even asked for your help with certain things. It wasn’t as if you could eat, but you used to be able to cook and he appreciated your help in the kitchen. You think he just liked your company when Stu was out especially. The jingle of keys caught your attention, standing up and floating over to the door. You were excited for them to be back. They took your life from you and you’re excited to see them after being gone for less than an hour. Billy pushed the door open, a smile on his face as he spoke to his boyfriend. “That's what I’m saying, Idiot, if you eat 15 pounds of bullshit I’m leaving you to die.”

“Oh come on, Billy. You’d really let me die like that? You’re a shit boyfriend, dude.” Stu chuckled as he followed Billy inside. “Welcome home!” You nearly yelled at them, your excitement a little too apparent. It caught them both off guard for a moment, but they gave you genuine smiles as they moved towards the kitchen. You followed after them as they sat the few plastic bags they had on the island. It looks like they grabbed a bunch of goodies, candy bars, popcorn, a few bags of sugar sticks and it looks like several vhs movies. 

“Stu couldn’t let go of the movie thing so we got a few more options.” Billy spoke as he pulled the movies from the bag. “Also we weren't sure which scooby doo thing you were talking about so we grabbed what they had.”

You looked over the movies he sat out, the new cover catching your eye. “That's the one! But we can watch all of them since you went through the trouble of getting them.” It wasn’t often that you watched kids programs but the animated detectives held a special place with you. Remembering your childhood sitting at the coffee table in your family home, a massive bowl of sugar laten cereal in front of you, laughing as one of the characters gets hit with something ridiculous. It warmed you to remember those moments. You reached out to grab the case only to have your hand phase through the object. You’d completely forgotten that there were certain things you couldn’t interact with, like food or books. Slowly pulling your hand back you looked at Billy. He was watching you, curiosity written on his features. “{Y/N}, Are you–” “It’s fine! Don’t worry about it, I just– I forget sometimes.” You quickly cut him off, floating over to Stu who was focused on not destroying the popcorn he’d started. 

⸻⸻⸻

The movie night went by in a flash. You had convinced Stu to sit long enough to finish all of Belle De Jour with minimal complaints. It took him a bit but once he got into it, he had a great time. You definitely considered that a win in your book. Billy stood up and stretched his arms above his head with a long groan. “What do you guys wanna watch next?” You hadn’t noticed until Stu shifted, that during the movie he had been resting on you as you played idly with his short tufts of hair. He rolled his shoulders and hummed at the question. “We can watch those cartoons you grabbed. Kinda get something mind numbing going after that roller coaster.” “I’d like that actually.” You yawned for the first time in the months you’d been there. You were feeling sleepy, genuinely tired. As if you’d been in a movie theater watching a premiere release that lasted nearly 3 hours. It was baffling, and slightly welcome. Did that mean you would be able to feel things again? Emotions weren’t out of the realm of possibility for you, but physical touches were definitely not something you had, even a few hours ago. It was happening so fast, you were struggling to process this new information, pinching your arms absently and letting the sting travel through you. Billy had already swapped the VHS out and plopped back on the couch. When he draped his arm across the backrest of the sofa just behind you, you could feel the natural heat radiate off of him. It made you sink a bit into the plush fabric. On your other side, Stu chugged the last bit of his cola and re-positioned himself back on your shoulder. It was an strangely endearing gesture and you could tell he was resting firmly in place as you felt the weight of his head against you. 

The ads before your show started rolled on, giving you that moment to process this moment. You were able to feel them, you could feel when they touched you and the heat from them. You were able to feel exhaustion, watching a movie from start to finish giving you some form of entertainment fatigue. You still had your memories, those never left you. You knew your name, {Y/N}, your age when you passed, 27, and even why you came back to begin with, revenge… or… No, it was definitely revenge that trapped your ghostly being with The Woodsboro Ghostface Killers. There was no other explanation, or reason, or anything, that could change your mind on that. Right? Your thoughts raced a bit before you finally snapped back to reality.

Billy had drifted off, his head lulling over onto your other shoulder. He was a sound sleeper thankfully, simply huffing harshly through his nose every now and again. Stu was still awake on the other side of you, eyes trained on the television set.

“Hey {Y/N}.” He spoke, focused unmoving from the show. “Remember what I said the first day you were here?”

“About me not being special?” You were confused. Why was he bringing that up? “Yes… Unfortunately.”

He chuckled, scooting closer to you. “No, not that, dude. About sticking around. I’m glad you didn’t just up and leave. You’re nice to have around. Though what I said is still true, I just mean it a little differently now.”

Your eyebrows shot up and a smirk spread across your lips. “Oh? And how differently could you mean ‘You weren’t special’, Stu?”

“Well, being special kinda blows. Like with Syd and Tatum, they’re mega popular on campus right? Hot as hell, and everyone wants ‘em right?” He began explaining his logic. You simply nodded in agreement. “But you, people knew you, but didn’t want you like they wanted them. Makes it easier to be around you, get to know you. Like how you like Saturday morning cartoons, and read books about detectives while laying on your belly. Shit like that. You’re perfectly average and we like that.”

His words still stung, but the sentiment behind them was truthful. He wanted you to know that even if you weren’t super popular around the college, you were wanted by them. You could feel the tell tale thump of your heart in your chest. It was so weird to think that you, A ghost who was a victim of theirs and came back with the sole purpose of making them pay, was wanted by them. This was getting a bit more complicated than you anticipated when it began.

[waitineedaname]

"Accidently ending a phone call with your roommate with a casual ‘I love you’ seems like a very good reason to move out"

For benrey @ gordon?

“And can you pick up some oat milk while you’re there? I just realized I’m out.”

“Man, oat milk freaks me out,” Benrey said, pushing their shopping cart towards the dairy section anyway. “Like, do oats even have, uh. Others?”

“Others?” There was a beat of silence as Gordon attempted to figure out exactly what the hell Benrey was talking about. “You mean udders?”

“Yeah. Cow things.”

“Dude, that’s not how oat milk works.” Gordon’s laugh made Benrey’s cheap phone speakers crackle.

“Then how does it work? Huh? Mister scientician?” Benrey propped the phone between their ear and shoulder as they opened the fridge door to grab the brand of oat milk he knew Gordon liked.

“I don’t fucking know! I’m not a goddamn milk scientist.” Even through a phone call, Benrey could hear the smile on Gordon’s face. “They squeeze juice out of the oats or smush them into a paste or something. I don’t know. Stop making me think about how oat milk works, it’s going to make me not want to drink it anymore.”

“Cool, so I’ll buy milk with extra lactose then.”

“You will not, unless you wanna deal with me laying on the couch complaining all afternoon because my stomach hurts.”

“You do that anyway.”

“Fuck off, man.” Gordon’s tone of voice didn’t carry any bite to it. “Alright, I gotta go, I’m almost at the end of the queue to pick Joshie up. I’ll see you back at home, okay?”

“Mhm. Love you, bye.” Benrey hung up and shoved their phone back in their jacket pocket. They unfolded the shopping list and attempted to decipher the mix of their own chicken scratch, Gordon’s doctor handwriting, and the occasional misspelled request for snacks in Joshua’s six year old handwriting. Okay, they had to get those frozen chicken nuggets Joshua liked, another pack of seltzer, a can of black beans since Gordon was planning to cook dinner tonight-

Thinking about Gordon made them suddenly freeze in place as they realized what they’d just done. Did… Did they just say “love you” on the phone with Gordon?

Aw, fuck.

They’d been living with Gordon for a while now. It hadn’t always been an easy thing for either of them. When they’d been freshly respawned, both of them had been jumpy around each other at best, and at worst, they were at each other’s throats trying to kill each other. It took a long time and a lot of uncomfortable conversations for them to get to the point where they could interact without an unbearable amount of tension. From there, they were able to start rebuilding an actual friendship. Turns out, they got along a lot better when they weren’t in mortal danger. Who knew!

Living with Gordon involved a lot of rules, both spoken and unspoken. They involved stuff like “don’t ask weird questions about Gordon’s feet,” “if one of them gets too angry, walk it off instead of actually fighting,” and “no gross body horror in front of Gordon’s son.” It also involved shit like “please for the love of god don’t put empty juice cartons back in the fridge” and ��don’t stain the carpets with Sweet Voice, this is a rental and that security deposit is worth getting back.” So far, Benrey hadn’t had too much trouble following the rules. They had been a security guard, after all; following rules was supposed to be their thing. Besides, they were a low price to pay to get to spend time with Gordon.

One of those early unspoken rules, however, had been “keep the flirting to a minimum.” That one had been a little tricky at first, but it had been necessary, especially back when they still weren’t on the best of terms. Benrey learned that when Gordon was already worked up, blowing a kiss did the opposite of diffusing the situation. This was news to Benrey. Who didn’t love a little kiss from their buddies? Lame.

That had been an early rule, though, and one that had kind of faded into the background over time. The longer they lived together, the more physically affectionate they both got, and a little domesticity is only to be expected when you share a household. It was nice. Comfortable.

And then Benrey had to go and say “I love you” on the phone. What the fuck.

That had to be crossing a line, right? Gordon was fine with some handholding and some cuddling and they’d make dinner together once a week, but this had to be pushing it.

Benrey went through the rote motions of buying the rest of their groceries without really paying attention, too busy panicking. There was only one option. They had to move out. This was fine. This was totally fine. They could just crash on Tommy’s couch until they find a place of their own because there was no way this wasn’t going to make Gordon freak the fuck out. As much as they loved fucking with Gordon, they’d learned there was the fun kind of freaking him out and the bad kind of freaking him out. They were fairly certain this fell into the bad category.

By the time that they were walking up to their apartment door, they were already mentally packing up all their things, resigned to their fate. They were so stuck in their own head that Joshua barreling into their legs when they opened the door actually startled them.

“Benny!” Joshua cheered, clinging to their jeans.

“Hey, li’l dude.” Benrey carefully tried to push past the kid without tripping over him on the way to the kitchen. Tragically, that’s where Gordon also happened to be.

“Hey, what took you so long?” Gordon asked, taking some of the grocery bags from them. “I thought you’d gotten lost in Costco again.”

Benrey grunted noncommittally and started putting away groceries instead of answering Gordon. Maybe if they didn’t look at him, they could avoid confronting whatever Gordon’s reaction was. Yeah, definitely, this seemed like a sustainable, reasonable decision to make. Yep.

“Dude.” Gordon’s hand suddenly appeared on their forearm. Benrey stared at it, then looked up at Gordon’s concerned face. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re putting carrots in the utensil drawer.”

Benrey looked down at their hands again. Oh. So they were.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since you got back from the store,” Gordon said, gently taking the carrots away from them. “Did something happen? You wanna talk about it?”

Benrey screwed their mouth up. No, they didn’t want to talk about it, but learning how to talk through things like adults was something they both had agreed to do. That had been a rule introduced by an exasperated Tommy, sick of mediating their bullshit. So, they sighed and looked away while Gordon put the carrots in the vegetable drawer of the fridge. “I was thinking about how I’ve gotta move out.”

“What?” Gordon stood up too fast and smacked his head on the freezer door. He swore loudly, and Benrey reached over to hand him a bag of frozen peas to put on the back of his head. “Thanks. But also, what? Since when are you moving out?”

“Uh, since now?” Benrey said, confused. Shouldn’t it be obvious?

“Why?”

“‘Cause I said I love you on the phone? Dummy? You, uh, a fucking old man got bad brain disease, not remembering things?” They said, defaulting to picking on Gordon to avoid focusing on anything else. Gordon stared blankly at them for a moment, then, against all odds, a grin spread across his face.

“Benrey,” He said, and Benrey decided he didn't like that tone one bit, “Are you embarrassed?”

“Whuh? No.” There was no way they could be embarrassed. That definitely wasn't what was going on here. Nope. Not a bit, “...Maybe.”

“Dude, you don't have to be embarrassed about that.” Gordon laughed. “Do you know how often I've said stupid Freudian slips? I called my sixth grade teacher mom once and wanted to change my name and move to Canada. I've been there.”

“It wasn't, uh… It wasn't too much? Not crossing a line or anything?”

“Nah, man. It was kinda sweet.” Gordon flashed him a smile and finished putting away the last of the groceries.

“Cool.” Benrey relaxed, letting go of the tension that had been building in their shoulders. “That's good ‘cause I was gonna fight you for custody of your Xbox.” Gordon snorted.

“Good fucking luck, you’re too much of a Playstation guy to win that case.”

The evening passed relatively uneventfully from there. Gordon enlisted Benrey’s help in cooking dinner, and Joshua eagerly told them all about the cool dinosaur facts he’d learned in class that day. They went through the easy routine of watching just one episode (which of course always turned into several episodes) of Joshua’s choice of TV, then Benrey helped wash up in the kitchen while Gordon put Josh to bed. Gordon joined them as they finished washing dishes and squeezed Benrey’s shoulder affectionately when they were done.

“Alright, man, I think I’m gonna head to bed early tonight.”

Benrey nodded. “Cool. I’ll be quiet.”

“Don’t worry about it. G’night, dude.”

“Night, Gordon.”

“Oh, and Benrey?” Gordon paused in the doorway of his bedroom and waited until Benrey glanced up at him. Gordon smiled. “Love you too.”

He shut the door before Benrey could respond, leaving Benrey to stare blankly at the door. They let out a groan, careful not to wake Joshua. Oh, Gordon was going to be the death of them.

[midgardianweasley]

Movie Night

Movie night

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: It’s friday night, or more commonly known as movie night for the Avengers. A horror movie was put on and Y/N isn’t feeling so brave, luckily she’s got a Romanoff nearby.

Warnings: coulrophobia (fear of clowns), mentions of the IT movie and pennywise.

Word Count: 2.5k

Идиоты. - ‘Idiots.’

Requests are open!

“I vote action movie”

“We watched an Action movie last week, Sam.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly looking up and meeting my eyes, earning a small smile in return, attempting to provide some sanity for the man.

“Plus, do you not think we’ve had enough action for one week?” Bucky grumbled, this week having taken a toll on everyone. We were all exhausted from our missions, some more than others, the soldier being one of them.

“Okay okay, no action, damn” Sam put his hands up in defeat, accepting that he wasn’t going to win this one. A few more options had been suggested, Bruce suggested rom-com, Thor suggested comedy, Vision proposed a documentary, all of which were shut down with groans and sounds of protest.

I turned to my assassin girlfriend who had been sitting beside me watching the scene unfold with an amused smirk on her face, her green eyes darting around the room whenever someone else spoke and taking sips of the drink she had in her hand. I nudged her slightly to get her attention

“Hey.”

“Hi”

“If it was up to you, what would you choose for movie night?” I asked. She morphed her face into a thoughtful one, still with a slight smile on her face, taking time to make her decision.

“If it was completely up to me? I would-”

“Aha!” Tony interrupted with a loud snap of his fingers. “I know, we haven’t watched a horror movie in a while, and the new IT movie just came out, we can watch that” He smirked, proud of his contribution to the discussion at hand. I looked around the room, praying that they would pick anything else, literally anything, even Vision’s documentary.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be really into it as they all shared nod’s and “yeah” “sounds good” before splitting up to go and get their snacks and blankets to bring back to the large sofa.

Although I wouldn't admit it to the rest of the group, I was absolutely terrified of clowns and have been since I was a child. If there was a clown at a birthday party or an event, I’d pretend I was sick so that my mum wouldn’t make me go. She soon noticed a pattern in my behaviour, putting the pieces together and realising that I hadn't come down with the flu three times that month, I was avoiding the ‘entertainment’ of the parties.

She tried explaining that it was just a guy in makeup and a funny suit, showing off fun tricks and jokes. However, 9 year old me still refused to attend, faking a sneeze and hiding under the blanket.

“Woah, Y/L/N, you good over there?” Tony furrowed his brows, concern written all over his face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I wish it was a ghost.

I regained my composure, nodding and sending a firm smile his way, hoping that would be enough to prevent any further questioning. With a shrug, he made his way out of the room and caught up with Thor to explain what ‘IT’ was.

“You don’t look so good, sure you’re okay?” Nat placed her hand on my back, rubbing small, reassuring circles with her palm. I wanted to put on a brave face and tell her I was fine, that there wasn’t a problem and my heart wasn’t racing with fear, but the look on her face, while caring and concerned, was also warning me not to lie to her. Not that i’d manage anyway, she always had ways of finding out the truth eventually.

I shook my head, letting out a small sigh and turning in my seat to address her. My eyes met hers and I felt my heart settle slightly just by looking at her, she always made me feel safe.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” She whispered, her hand coming up to rest on my cheek, her thumb stroking my cheekbone in small movements.

“It’s so silly, really.”

“Nothing is silly if it’s upsetting you Detka. Tell me.”

“It’s this movie.”

The confusion was obvious on her face, yet she stayed quiet, allowing me to elaborate.

“I just, I’ve never been the best with clowns. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had this fear of them. If I saw one, I’d run in the opposite direction, which was more often than one would think. I mean, seriously, who wants one of those things at a party? What happened to princess parties? Or tea parties!” I exclaimed, my tone becoming more intense as I spoke.

Natasha nodded, I could almost see the cogs turning in her head, figuring out how to approach the situation. After a minute or two, she focused her eyes back on me and her hands had trailed down to meet with mine, interlocking them in the process.

“Do you want to skip it tonight?” She suggested.

“No, no, I don’t want to cause a fuss. Plus, I kinda don’t want the others knowing.”

“Are you absolutely sure? I’m sure we can pull a sickie for one night.”

“I’m sure. Just, can you stay next to me? And let me hide if it gets really bad?”

“Of course you can. I’ll be next to you the whole time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

___________________

We were at the haunted house scene in the movie. There had already been jumpscares that I'd managed to avoid for the most part, but I don’t think I've moved past Georgie’s death yet, let alone have time to process the psycho killer clown on the screen.

Eddie was in a room alone, he was staring at this dirty, old fridge and a white hand had appeared, curling itself around and tapping on the side so you could only see it’s fingers. I tugged the blanket that was laid across Natasha and i’s laps and pulled it up to my nose, eyes still on the screen, but prepared to take cover. It appears as though nothing has changed from all those years ago.

As the fridge door creaked open, my blanket had raised higher and higher, my grip tightening by the second while the hand reappeared, this time, you could see it’s entire body contorted into this small space.

“Nope. No, absolutely fucking not. No.” I mumbled, covering my eyes with my fluffy shield. Luckily, Nat had stolen the sofa at the back, meaning I could skip the scary parts without anyone taking much notice, them being too entranced by the movie. Weirdo’s.

In my safety bubble I'd created, I felt my girlfriend’s hand on my thigh, rubbing small circles to reassure me that I was okay, and that she was here. I shuffled a little so I was closer to her, if that was even possible, her then adjusting so that her hand was still on my thigh, but another arm was wrapped securely around me, pulling me into her side a little more.

I assumed we would stay like that for a bit, until she started to shift more noticeably and lifted the part of the blanket closest to her, and put it over her own head, taking me by surprise, a faint gasp leaving my lips when seeing that she’d joined me.

“You doing okay under here?” She spoke softly, a hint of amusement playing on her face as she looked at me folded up into a ball.

“I am. This blanket protects me from all.”

“Of course it does, the fluffier it is, the more protection, right?” She quoted words i’d spoken earlier on when bringing in the blanket for us.

“Are you sure you’re not going to boil under there?”

“Nope. And even if I do, the fluffier the blanket, the more protection from cannibal clowns.” I’d explained proudly. Yes, I'm an Avenger that fights extraterrestrials and demigods and still runs to a blanket for safety, leave me alone.

We stayed under there for a minute or two, holding hands and sharing small kisses while the movie continued and we hid in our little bubble.

“C’mon lovebirds, the movie isn’t over yet, you can continue that when we’ve gone to bed if you must.” Stark called out, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and retreat back to her previous position.

I don’t know what ran through my mind, I clearly didn’t think twice about the situation I was in, my default being to follow Natasha and pull the blanket down and off my head. Upon resurfacing from my cocoon, I looked towards the Television. Bad idea. With a shriek that I'm almost certain could be heard from Asgard, I flew under the blanket again after seeing Pennywise with all of his teeth on show, edging towards Eddie to eat him.

Natasha’s arms wound their way around me again, slightly shaking now from the fright. Even though the blanket tended to muffle sounds, I could hear the room fill with laughter and comments from the Avengers.

“I didn’t know your voice could go that high Y/L/N”

“Pennywise! You scared Y/N!”

“Y/N, it’s literally-”

“How about you guys shut up and watch the movie? Otherwise I swear to god Thor, I’ll bring snakes in here and Sam, I’ll cut the wings off of your suit.” I heard the redhead next to me threaten, alongside some more punishments to the others who laughed, immediately silencing them, all of them knowing that she wasn’t one for an empty threat.

Even though the laughter died down and no more words were spoken, tears still built up in my eyes and were daring to fall down my cheeks. I feel so embarrassed. A room full of superheroes and I was scared to death over a fictional clown in front of all of them.

I tried to keep my sniffles to a minimum and at a level where no one could hear me, however, they seemed to have caught Nat’s attention as she whispered to me, loud enough for me to hear, but quietly so that it was only me that could hear.

“Mind if I come in?”

I chose not to verbally respond, instead, I pulled the edge of the blanket up, allowing her to bend down and make her way underneath. After making herself comfortable, she turned to me and did, what felt like study, my face before tutting under her breath.

“Идиоты. Are you okay?” I smiled at her speaking Russian. She often switched between the two, interchanging within sentences. I’d been around her enough to pick up on some of the terms, funnily enough she’d said that word so often, my understanding was immediate.

“Feeling a bit humiliated” My voice came out weak and slightly gravelly from the crying, her thumb immediately wiped the tears off of my cheeks, lingering afterwards.

“Don’t be. Everyone has their fears, you shouldn’t be embarrassed by having them. Okay? It just means you're human.” She patiently explained, sparking a question to leave my lips before realising.

“Do you have a fear?”

She smiled “mhm”

“Can I know what it is?”

She leaned in closer to me, lips hovering beside my ear so I could feel and hear her breathing quietly.

“Идиоты” She whispered, resulting in me clamping my hand over my mouth to limit the noise my laughter was making.

“There’s that smile I love.” She took my chin in her index finger and her thumb, her face once again, coming closer towards mine before our lips met in the middle, sharing a soft, quick kiss, distracting me from any embarrassment i’d previously felt.

________________

The movie had just finished, everyone was getting up and starting to clear up any mess they’d made, mainly popcorn that had fallen everywhere, Wanda and Vision being the main culprit, jumping at the scary parts had caused a popcorn avalanche near their seats.

Nat and I gathered our blankets and snacks we’d brought in, trying to ignore the slight tension hanging in the air, and just as we were about to walk to our bedroom, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Peter.

Rocking back and forth on his heels and fidgeting with his hands, he smiled.

“Hey, uh- miss Y/L/N. Miss Romanoff, sorry, I just wanted to come and make sure you were okay.” He rushed, clearly anxious to approach us considering the telling off Natasha gave everyone earlier.

“I’m okay, thank you Peter. You can call me Y/N by the way, ‘miss’ makes me feel old.” I chuckled, visibly seeing his shoulders relax at my response, he was really sweet, never wanting to get on anyone’s bad side. He’s a good kid.

“Sorry mi-,Y/N, sorry, I’ll remember for next time. That movie was pretty freaky, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

Feeling more relaxed, I made a slow but steady beeline for the bedroom, wanting to have cuddles with Nat and go to sleep, hopefully forget the movie ever happened. Soon enough, we were both changed into a vest top, I wore a pair of shorts and Nat wore a pair of sweats and we were in bed, facing each other with our legs tangled together, our noses bumping every so often.

“I love you” I mumbled in between kisses, eyes opening briefly to be met by her green orbs looking back at me.

“I love you more, Detka.”

A silence then overtook the room, only being able to hear the breeze outside and a slight whistle from where it was flying through the trees. I’d usually adore this, finding peace in the wind and the darkness, tonight however, it felt unsettling. All I could hear in my head was the soundtrack to the movie, picturing the bloody teeth and that creepy smile from earlier in my head.

“Love?” I nudged my girlfriend’s nose gently, hoping she was still somewhat awake.

“Mhmm?”

“Can you, can you possibly sing to me?” Her eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile on her face, wrapping her arms tightly around me before humming a quiet melody, sending me into a blissful sleep.

By noon the next day, I had received apologies from everyone in the compound, a couple of bone crushing hugs from Thor and some complementary pancakes that Wanda had made with some help from Bruce, aprons on and covered in flour. Everyone tucked into their individual stacks, enjoying some lighthearted conversation, Nat taking the opportunity to press a small kiss to the back of my hand, I quickly returned the gesture. It was lovely.

Movie night was a rollercoaster, but at the end of the day, I was surrounded by the best people, and nothing would change that, not even the fear of clowns.

Though they’re still really fucking scary.

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