#what do you mean june was FIVE months ago!!!!!

[yutadori]

um how is it november....

[ceilidho]

prompt: construction worker ghost and his elementary school teacher neighbour who made the poor decision to start feeding him (nsfw, 2k) [based on this old ask] [on ao3 here]

-

They say not to feed wild animals. 

It makes them grow soft, lazy. Alters their behaviour. Takes an animal previously capable of finding its own food dependent on humans for sustenance. Makes them lose their natural fear of humans and nearly always results in an increase in human-wildlife conflicts as they start to seek out people. It’s a known fact. You can’t go to a park without seeing it plastered on posters in the bathroom and on the sides of the vending machines under the gazebos where you purchase your post-hike iced tea and veggie roll to eat on a nearby bench. 

You know this. So you really don’t know what possessed you to leave a cooler full of sandwiches on your neighbour’s doormat before turning in for the night. 

He wakes up preternaturally early and leaves every morning around four-thirty or five o’clock on the dot. Sometimes in the fog of sleep, you wake to hear the door to the apartment beside yours crack open and slam shut, and then the sound of lumbering footsteps down the hall towards the staircase before that door opens and slams shut too. 

He never comes home before four o’clock at the earliest. That’s around when you come home from work as well, meaning that you sometimes catch him at the door, him covered in grime and reeking of old sweat while you come flouncing down the hall in whatever colourful dress you’d donned that morning, inevitably paint-splattered by the end of the day. Always something appropriate to wear at an elementary school but colourful enough to keep the kids’ eyes and attention on you. 

You’ve caught his name in half-whispered conversations with the property manager, but aside from that, all you know about Simon Riley is that he works in construction. He certainly looks the part: big, calloused hands with blunt, dirt-caked nails and cut up fingers, knuckles always swollen and thick. Body all strength and brawn. Hard hat tucked under his armpit and decorated with countless stickers from old job sites, the same way his forearm is covered in tattoos. 

You’ve even passed by his current job site once or twice—some new condo complex going up by the canal that’s forced you and hundreds of other commuters to leave an extra thirty minutes early to account for the road closures. You pointedly don’t bring that up in conversation though. That would just be rude. 

At least it would be something to talk about though.

It’s not like the two of you talk. You’re not close by any means. Though you moved in a few months ago, you haven’t had much luck mustering up the confidence to squeak out more than a hi to him in passing. When he grunts back something approximating a hello, it’s all you can do not to break your key in the lock when you hurry into your apartment and slam the door shut behind you, heart beating frantically in your chest. 

It’s humiliating. You’re a grown woman and you’ve talked to plenty of men before. You’ve dated plenty of men before. Just because this one speaks in monosyllables and stares at you with an intensity that makes your stomach churn and your palms grow sweaty doesn’t change anything. Just because this one is built like a redwood with wrists thick enough that you’d need both hands to wrap around doesn’t make him any different than any other person.

And yet, when Simon asks you for your name on a rainy June afternoon after you’ve come in after him for a change only to find him sifting through letters at the mailbox, you garble out something that sounds nothing like your name before scurrying up the stairs to your flat.

It’s humiliating. It’s humid outside and your dress is sticking to all the wrong places (namely, your nipples and the inside of your thighs when the skirt swishes between your legs with each stride) and now you’ve made an ass of yourself in front of the only hot guy in your building. There are serial arsonists with more charm than you. 

So maybe the sandwiches are an apology letter or an olive branch. Or maybe it just makes your heart race to think of Simon opening up the cooler and finding four wax paper-wrapped sandwiches tucked neatly over ice packs. 

All you know is that when you step out of your apartment the next morning, the cooler is empty on your doormat, the lid propped open. He must have taken them with him. 

You smile. A job well done. Apology served fresh, with cucumber slices in the middle. 

The problem starts when you don’t leave him another cooler full of sandwiches on his doormat the next day. 

You didn’t consider that he might think you’d make it a habit. Perhaps that’s partially on you for not leaving a note on the cooler the first time to explain that it was just a one-off; just a way to apologize for being less than chipper around him. But instead of shrugging it off, you come home after a long day to find him standing right outside your apartment, arms crossed over his chest, thick biceps straining against his sweat-stained shirt. 

“Open the door,” Simon commands, nostrils flaring as he glares down at you. He jerks his head towards your door when you just frown, not following. “Been starving here waiting for you to show up.”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You’re at a loss for words, never mind that your whole job involves talking. He leaves you speechless though. 

Simon doesn’t move when you step close enough to unlock the door. You try to keep your body angled away so as not to brush up against him, but it’s inevitable. He doesn’t move when the door opens either, forcing you to squeeze by him. 

He goes straight to the kitchen and drags a chair out, letting it scrape across the floor like men always do before taking a seat. You follow after him nervously, apprehensive at having a man in your space. Not just a man, but Simon Riley. It feels sacrilege—not like he has no right being in your space, but you can’t imagine him here, sitting at your tiny dining room table like he comes over for dinner every Sunday. 

When he catches you standing under the archway to the kitchen just staring at him, he barks, “Well?”

That has you scurrying over to the fridge to pull out the cold cuts and pickled red onions. There’s a loaf of bread already on the counter, the bag twisted and tucked underneath because you had to leave in a rush this morning. You don’t know half of what you pile on the sandwiches, but whatever you serve him must satisfy him because Simon digs in with gusto, finishing the plate off in only a few bites while you wash the cutlery in the sink. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the whole while.

He leaves not too long after that, only a light warning for you to not miss tomorrow’s lunch before heading back over to his own apartment. You don’t even get a word in edgewise. 

It becomes something of a routine after that and not one you have any control over. Every night before bed, you leave him a cooler full of sandwiches and other things like cut up fruit or slices of cheese on his doormat, and every afternoon you rock up to him waiting on your doorstep, demanding to be let in. 

He takes to giving you a wet kiss before he leaves, all tongue and his fingers curled around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. When you try to cover his mouth with your hand, he nips at your fingers until you move them and let him slip you some tongue. 

The day you make him a casserole for supper, he bends you over the back of your couch and eats you out. Simon eats like a man starving, glutting himself on the wetness between your legs, licking even over the furl of your asshole and chuckling under his breath when you squeal and flail, your toes just brushing against the floor. 

In the aftermath, you sit panting in his lap while he eats. He gets up only briefly to get the bowl of strawberries and cream you left chilling in the fridge before lifting you up and putting you right back in his lap. You stare bleary-eyed when he holds a finger covered in cream up to your lips.

“Clean me up, pet,” he says, then watches you with half-lidded eyes while you lick his finger clean. 

He makes you suck his fingers too, to keep things even. He does it when you’re angled half off the bed, thick digits stuffed down your throat until your eyes leak big, fat tears that he licks away, hungry for those too. The man is always hungry, always keen to fill his belly. 

The arrangement continues on long enough to become normal, even routine. Simon shows up at your door every day after work waiting to be fed, and then makes you come a couple times before he leaves, a little thank you to repay you for the food. He never really says all that much when he comes around, not a conversationalist of a man. His preference is to eat, fuck, and leave, which you’re happy to accommodate, still too tongue-tied yourself to broach a real conversation. 

That’s all before he starts helping himself to your bed for a quick nap after a big supper. Then for naps that turn into a full night’s sleep, snoring like a chainsaw under the covers with you tucked under his arm, naked breasts pressed against his side, keeping you awake most of the night until you pass out somewhere around one A.M. 

Just as you suspected, Simon gets up at around four or five to be at the jobsite on time, but at your place, he gets up a bit earlier to help himself to breakfast. He doesn't even bother waking you up, just turns you over onto your tummy and spreads your legs before sinking his dick into where you're still stretched out from the night before. If you wake up or squirm, he just leans down and murmurs, “S'alright, pet…just need a pick me up before work. Go back to sleep, you’re okay,” and ruts between your thighs until he comes inside you and leaves you all wet in bed with one last messy kiss to your temple. 

The door slams shut on his way out. 

Because you feed him, he keeps coming back. The workday passes in a blur: attendance, a spelling test, recess, maths in the afternoon, and then you’re driving home in the same daze that has you slamming on the brakes before rear ending an old woman who stopped two cars behind the truck at the redlight ahead. 

You’re home earlier than him for a change, so you unlock the door quickly while there’s still a chance to avoid him. No such luck. When Simon turns up, he pounds on the door until you let him in. And you do. 

It’s a wonder you haven’t come apart at the seams, horny and pent up after this morning. You were too sleepy to come after all, rode hard and put away wet. Still, you flit nervously around the apartment, looking everywhere but at him. 

He always smells rich after working all day in the sun, like sweat and dirt. It's not a particularly nice smell, but it still kind of gets you going. He goes for a shower and then collapses on the couch after, beckoning you over to you crawl into his lap and grind yourself on his thigh because he knows of course. Simon can probably smell it on you, the ache. He shushes you when you whine about it, big hands fitting around your hips and pressing you down until your clit rubs deliciously against the muscle of his thigh and your head goes cloudy, cheek mushed against the pillow of his chest. 

When you come, Simon tips your chin up with his knuckle and murmurs, “Knickers off, love. Haven’t got my fill.”

He feeds you your own slick from his fingers when he kneels on the floor in front of the couch, your legs draped over his shoulders. Your fingers scratch helplessly over shorn blond hair, buzzed almost to the scalp. It’s prickly under your fingertips. 

Simon’s a messy eater. Your slick dribbles down his lips and glistens on his chin. It makes the blood roar under your skin, feverishly hot. 

“Please, Simon,” you whine, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It hurts.”

You feel his lips quirk up against the folds of your pussy, the flat of his tongue running up the seam and flicking over your clit. He chuckles when your hips jerk. “Greedy aren’t you, pet? Didn’t even say thank you for getting on my knees.”

“You didn’t make me come!”

His voice borders on mocking when he coos, “Poor little thing. It’s gonna be a lot longer ‘til she gets to come if you don’t say thank you.”

Your brain goes staticy, fingers twitching on his scalp. His words echo back in your head. It’s rubbish, is what it is. All this time and he’s never said thank you once for the countless meals you’ve fed him. Indignation bubbles up in you, rising to the surface like fat on the cream, and you raise a hand to rub the tears from your eyes, a harsh rebuke on the tip of your tongue.

The protest dies on your lips when he meets your gaze. It’s hungrier than anything you’ve ever seen. Whatever animal lives under his skin stares back at you with black eyes, drool leaking from its jowls. It’s mindless, intent only on slaking its hunger. Filling its empty belly. And it is not afraid of you anymore. It knows you’ll feed it until it’s full. It knows you won’t let it go hungry anymore. 

So, always leery of the bigger animal in the room, you mumble out a chest-thick, “Thank you,” and shiver when he grins. 

There’s a reason they tell you not to feed strays. They often come back for more.

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter one -

Late arrivals and big asks

A broken down car, a party at Reefer Rick’s, and a bandaid that needs to be ripped off.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking, lots of tension, some king!steve angst in the form of a flashback.

wc: 10.1k

series masterlist | series playlist

June - 

The air is sticky, thick with the kind of humidity only Indiana could have at 9:30 pm. An annoyed breath expands into your lungs as you lean against your car that refuses to do anything but sputter. Despite your irritation, your glossed lips twitch with the nostalgia that creeps into your heart because after all these years it still smells the same.

Crossing your arms, your eyes trail over the clear night sky not polluted with the kind of man-made smog that blankets the city and the stars shimmer like diamonds in its absence. The warmth of the overrun engine is still hot on your exposed calves, the light breeze making the bottom of your sundress dance across the tops of your thighs. White beams emerge, cutting through the dark at the top of the hill, followed by the roar only a tow truck can make, and this time, the smile you fought off before spreads wide across your face.

Robin.

Butterflies wake up in a frenzy deep in your gut, with nerves that twitch from your fingertips at the thought of finally getting to hug your best friend after months apart. You push off the side of your car as the truck approaches, eyes squinting to make out the second outline in the front cabin as it pulls over. You recognize the messy mane of hair that could only belong to Eddie Munson in the driver seat almost instantly and his dimple filled smile brings you back to memories you thought you’d long forgotten. 

“Well, well, well, would you look at what the cat dragged in!” Robin sticks her head out of the window with a wide grin as the big tires slow to a stop in front of your car, “are my eyes deceiving me or is my best friend in the entire world actually in Hawkins, Indiana right now?” 

The rasp in her voice sounds just like it does over the phone and despite the roll of your eyes, your cheeks hurt from how happy you are.

“Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t guilt me out here by saying the fate of your future depends on it.” Uncrossing your arms, you open them wide, “I made the ultimate sacrifice for you, so are you gonna hug me or not?”

Dramatic? Yes. But it works like a charm when she flings open the passenger door and charges at you in a mess of honey blond waves and freckles, almost tackling you with the force of her impact wrapping her arms around you.

Too distracted by Robin, you almost don’t notice the creak of the driver's side door or the filled out frame of the man that used to be a lanky teenage boy walking past as Eddie starts to attach your car to his truck. He’s taller than you remembered even bending down, and despite the navy blue coveralls, you can still see that his pale skin is littered with even more tattoos.

“I can’t believe my guilt trip worked!” Robin beams, finally letting you go, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement as she claps her ring clad hands together.

“I really can’t believe it either,” you laugh nervously, the reality of what it means to come back starting to set in after seeing just one familiar face, but this isn’t high school anymore and you’re definitely not the same person you were five years ago either.

“Thanks so much, Eddie,” you break the ice when he stands back up, and the sound of your voice has his big brown eyes warmed with gold light up just like his face when he turns his full attention onto you. Scruff filled dimples poking even bigger holes in his cheeks.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart, I almost didn’t believe Robin when she called me. I thought it was a prank.” He beckons you over with open arms, “now that I know it’s not, you have exactly 10 seconds to get over here and hug me before I change my mind.”

There’s zero hesitation about giving into his ‘demand’ and when your arms wrap around his waist, you’re brought back to afternoons in the woods behind the school with heavy lidded eyes and lopsided grins. 

“Your own auto shop, huh?” You smile up at him, pulling away, “Eddie Munson, the business owner.”

He rolls his eyes but the pink tint that colors in his cheeks tells you he appreciates the praise.

“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckles, “Got a soft spot for that old man in the trailer park, couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

Your heart warms at the fondness that drips from his ton. 

“Okay, as sweet as this little reunion is. You’re late, and we have a party to get to.” Robin interrupts snatching your keys out of your hand, dropping them in Eddie’s.

“A party?” You snap confused, and Eddie takes that as his queue to walk away with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, this is the summer of fun and reckless abandon, this is the last summer of our youth before we have to be adults. Do you understand me?” Her fingers are digging into your shoulders by the end of her rant, with the kind of look in her eyes that you’re absolutely going to have to revisit after a few weeks. 

“This is the part where I remind you that I graduated college last year.” 

Your best friend scoffs at you.

“Just humor me, okay? It’s your grand homecoming.” She pushes out her bottom lip, and makes her eyes big in a way she knows you can’t say no to.

“Fine.” You huff, making her finally let you go with the kind of pleased smirk that tells you she never thought she was going to lose to begin with.

“Great, it’s time to rip the bandaid off anyway.” Robin practically mumbles the last part turning on her heel to head back to the truck.

It takes a minute for her words to stick to your ears and their meaning to ring loud through your head, but when they do it feels like the air is stolen from your lungs. 

“Rip what bandaid off, Robin?!” 

It’s his name tightens in your chest but you refuse to say it, even after all this time it burns coming back up. 

“Since you had to drive for so long, I’ll sit in the middle because I’m just that good of a friend, you know?” She winks with a shit eating grin before pulling herself up and disappearing inside the cab of the truck, ignoring your question, like she’s not asking you to do the one thing you said you’d never do. 

See Steve Harrington again.

I tell myself, ‘draw the line.’

You wonder if Robin can feel the daggers you’re glaring into the back of her head as the two of you walk up the driveway to Rick’s house. Gravel crunching hard under your converse as you keep up with her black combat boots. She looks effortlessly cool in her high waisted jean shorts, and her oversized army green jacket covered in patches. You’d compliment her if you weren’t so mad.

“I can’t believe you guys still have parties here.” You scoff, making your sour attitude known, but your best friend ignores it with ease.

“I can’t believe you forgot to have fun. Don’t you live in the city?” Turning around with a smirk, she can’t help but laugh at the look on your face. 

She stops abruptly, almost making you run into her leaving you both just close enough to the party to hear the bass of the music spilling through the cracks in the windows. The low chatter of people echoes through the trees that surround you and bounce off the lake not that far away. The thought of hearing the calm baritone of his voice mixed in makes your chest tight with the kind of nerves that dare you to high tail it and run.

“It’s been five years.” Robin’s playful demeanor breaks and becomes pleading with a kind of desperation you’ve never seen from her before. “He’s not the person you knew in high school, I need you to understand that. You think I’d call someone like that my best friend?”

“Hey!-“ You object at the title, and it makes her lips twitch despite serious lines that crease her face.

“Stop, you know what I mean,” her painted fingers grab onto yours, squeezing them lightly, “please, just give him a chance. I’m not asking you to get back together or even be friends, just get along enough not to kill each other this summer. I can’t choose between you. I won’t.”

The genuine love she has for Steve is apparent in the way her ocean blue eyes threaten to drown you in their sincerity, and you can’t find it in yourself to say no to her. 

“Fine.” You accept your defeat in practically a whisper, but it makes your best friend squeal nonetheless. The giddiness from before coming back tenfold as she links arms with you, continuing your way up to the house. 

It’s just a summer, right?

The crowd gets bigger as more people start to come into view, between groups smoking cigarettes outside, couples arguing by cars, others making out against them. The smell of beer gets more pungent with each step, the atmosphere a stark contrast to the way the moon glows against the peaceful waters behind the madness of the house. 

Salt N Pepa’s ‘Push It’ plays loud enough for you to make out the words when you reach the front steps, walking through clouds of tobacco smoke to get to the unlocked door. The interior hasn’t changed at all since high school, the smell of stale lime and tequila stinging your nose. The bass of the music vibrates under your shoes as Robin unlinks her arms and you have to fight the urge to yank her back.

“Drinks or …Steve first?” She asks, her nerves about the situation finally showing themselves as she bites at her thumbnail. 

“Absolutely drinks! Is that a trick question?” You half whisper, half yell, looking around as if saying his name out loud might summon him.

“Okay! Okay!” Robin hisses, grabbing your wrist, leading you towards the familiar path to Rick’s kitchen.

Suddenly you wonder what your makeup looks like after a long day of traveling in your car, your fingers tugging at the bottom of your dress before adjusting the front of it so it sits just right. You itch to grab your lip gloss that’s tucked into the side of your bra, but you don’t want to deal with the look you’d get if you went for it.

Rounding the corner to the living room, your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach before you even have a chance to stop it when your eyes meet that messy head of chestnut hair, and a pair of hot pink nails tangled inside it. 

“Oh - I - god dammit.” Robin groans, when you're met with number two on your list, making out with a pretty blond on the couch.

Despite the years and distance, there’s still a sting that you feel in the corners of your eyes. It’s not enough for any tears to fall, there’s none left for him anymore, but it’s enough for the anger you’ve clung to since the day he broke your heart to boil hot under your skin. It singes the wings of the butterflies that try to take flight when you see the way his frame has filled out, how he’s somehow grown more handsome than the last time you saw him. 

Robin coughs, squeezing your wrist in reassurance.

“Hey, - uh, Steve.” The sound of his name catches his attention, long brown lashes fluttering open to reveal the deep coffee of his eyes that widen when they lock with yours for the first time in years. 

His lips pull from the blond’s with a loud smack, leaving a small trail of glitter on the side of his mouth that he tries to wipe away quickly with his wrist. Black ink you’ve never seen before looks bold on his tanned skin that glows like it’s been freshly kissed by the sun. 

His gaze wanders up and down your body like he’s unsure you’re actually real, and if it wasn’t for the obvious shock of your arrival and the way the color seems to drain from his face, you’d snap at him for the way it lingers over your curves. 

“Um, Robin, what the fuck?” The sound of his voice makes your heart skip a beat, and again when his hand drags through his hair just how you remembered.

“Surprise?” She shrugs, wincing when he scoffs loudly and the warmth that went missing floods his cheeks, turning them bright red. The blond next to him eyes you up while she clutches harder to his waist, and you can’t stop the rise of your brows and the giggle that bubbles past your lips because of it.

Steve’s head snaps towards you, something softening the moss that hides in his eyes when he hears the noise despite the sarcasm that drips from it, and you really get to look at him for the first time since high school graduation. 

God, you wish you could’ve had that drink. 

The jawline that always drove you mad is sharper, peppered with the kind of hardly there stubble that tells you he’s only missed one shaving day. A problem he never used to have, and somehow, it makes him all that much more attractive. 

His hair is a little messier than his carefully crafted look that used to take him a good forty five minutes every morning. It curls wildly at the ends now, tucking behind his ears and fanning along the nape of his freckled neck. It still looks as soft as you remember, though. 

His shoulders are broader, stretching the white cotton of his shirt tight enough across his chest that you can see the outline of a thick patch of hair that had only just started growing when you knew him last. The dark wash of his jeans makes them look almost black, fitting snug over his thighs, cuffed at the bottoms framing the tops of his boots.

Why couldn’t Steve Harrington just peak in high school like he was supposed to?

“So yeah, this is awkward.” Your best friend laughs nervously, “We’re going to get a drink or three because this scenario is by far the worst case and not the way this was supposed to go in my head, but anyway, look who’s here for the summer! We’ll talk later!“ 

Robin grabs your wrist before Steve can respond, pulling you back into the party and away from your ex-boyfriend while the realization of the summer you’ve foolishly agreed to hits you all at once. It turns your body weightless as the two of you weave in and out of the crowd. It tightens in your chest, the music turning muffled hitting your ear drums. Suddenly, you're not the woman who crossed state lines to the one place she said she’d never come back to, happily living the lie that you’d actually forgotten about him to be a good friend.

You’re the girl who let him keep you a secret, and you hate him for it.

Sneakers hit the sticky tile floor that hasn’t changed since 1984, the harsh lighting of the kitchen makes you both squint. It’s calmer than the rest of the house, just a few groups lingering off in the corners, too deep in conversation to care about you and Robin. Letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your ears start to pop too, Eddie Money’s Take Me Home Tonight coming through crystal clear.

“The band-aid might have been violently ripped off, but hey, it’s ripped off nonetheless.” Robin shrugs, finding the half-drunk bottle of tequila on the counter. “I think we should count this as a win and take a shot to celebrate.”

“A win?! Are you kidding me?!” You hiss, completely bewildered.

“Yes a win - oh no.” Her blue eyes go wide at whatever’s behind you, but it doesn’t take you long to figure out when that familiar spice and cedar of his cologne hits your nose.

“Right so, who’s going to let me know what’s going on?”

His voice comes out close enough to send your lashes fluttering, mimicking your heart. The nerves you’d just gotten over threaten to come back tenfold, but you manage to swallow them down just like in high school, turning around.

“I think it’s obvious what’s going on, Steve,”

It’s not as hard to say his name as you thought it would be, but it is hard to stare at his face from this close. Specifically, the two moles that dot his cheek that you always used to kiss, or the ones on his neck that you hate still taunt you for more. 

“I’m here for the summer.”

Steve Harrington had thought about this moment a lot, but Rick’s house was never the backdrop for it. His eyes take in the features you’ve not only grown into but somehow are even more beautiful than he remembers. Even if they’re twisted in a glare. 

“I meant, why didn’t I know until right now?” He manages to get out with a shake of his head narrowing his eyes at Robin, who’s too busy trying to find clean shot glasses to notice.

“Why would you need to know?” You snap, making a nervous hand card through his hair

“Cause I’ve, uh,  you know, I’ve asked about you a few times,” the last part comes out a little harsher, clearly directed at your best friend, who you know is actively ignoring you both now.

“Why? Why would you need to know anything about me?” Your hostility still shocks him even though he was expecting it. His eyebrows shoot up just like his hands in surrender. “Why didn’t you tell me, Robin?”

She groans loudly, slamming the tequila bottle down on the counter before turning around.

“You said you didn’t want to hear anything about him after you moved, why would I tell you he was asking about you?”

“Wait -“ Steve butts in this time, “seriously?”

“Oh my god, can you two shut the fuck up for a second and take these shots? You’re really putting a damper on the beginning of the best summer of our lives,” Robin snaps before waving a hand in front of three freshly poured shots.

It’s a struggle to tear your eyes from him, your body responding to his presence in a way that feels like it’s turning against you. It has you downing your shot in one quick motion before anyone else can even touch theirs. 

“Wow, okay.” Robin deadpans before shaking her head, wasting no time in following your lead.

“So we’re not cheersing anymore? Isn’t that bad luck?” Steve mutters, shoulder brushing against yours as he leans forward to grab his shot, the slightest touch enough to engulf your skin into flames.

A whole summer? Fuck.

“Robin, pour another one.” You rush with pinched brows as you try to move past the bitter sting of the alcohol going down your throat, taking a step toward her and away from him, you add “and we’ll cheers.”

You refuse to meet his gaze when you say it, but you can feel the intensity of it on the side of your face, begging you to break.

“Rob’s, how are you guys getting home?” Steve finally breaks, giving up his quiet fight for now, and you hate the way his nickname for her softens your heart.

“Huh, that’s a good question, I hadn’t thought that far yet.” She admits, over pouring so tequila splashes against the countertop, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously–

“RECKLESS ABANDON STEVEY!” Cutting him off, she downs her shot in his disapproving face.

“You didn’t cheers again.” Steve sighs, hands finding his hips as you whine an irritated, “We needed to cheers!” At the same time.

Your eyes meet his finally, his knowing smirk twisting the corners of your lips despite yourself. You blame the tequila starting to warm the blood in your veins.

“Well, you need to take yours then if we’re doing another one ‘the proper’ way, or it’s not going to be even.” Robin points at your drink in a silent challenge. 

You know how this game works.

“Fine.” You shrug, downing it with more ease than the last one.

“Oh my god. Stop! Do not pour another one before you answer my question, please!” Steve sounds exasperated, grabbing the bottle from her before she can disobey, “How are you getting home?” 

You try not to focus on how much larger his already big hands are now, or how small the bottle looks wrapped up in his palm compared to your best friends. The second shot takes the edge off your nerves in a way that your shoulders relax. Leaning against the counter, you cross your arms, watching the two of them bicker, catching Steve’s wandering gaze on your exposed legs while he tries his best to keep his focus on Robin. It boosts your ego in a way that has the anger hiding just under the surface go from a boil to a slow simmer.

“I don’t know Harrington, do you know anybody with a car?” She wiggles two thick brows at him, the second shot making her blue eyes glassy, and her smile a little more goofy.

“Why’d I know you were going to say that? And why did I know you were going to do this?” Steve sighs, letting her snatch the bottle out of his hand.

“What? Bring her to the party?” Robin snorts pointing a thumb in your direction, making you gasp.

“Robin!”

“No! What? No. But don’t think,” Steve clears his throat looking at you awkwardly before finishing a little quieter, “don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

“I can still hear you.” You remind him with a sarcastic smirk.

“Yeah, I know you can. Look, I’ll DD for you because obviously tonight is, uhh,” he gestures to you with cheeks that grow pinker by the second, “a big deal. But you gotta stop doing this to me, I need you to get your license you’re out of colleg-”

“Shots! Steve’s driving us home!” Robin whoops loudly, and an irritated Steve pinches the bridge of his nose before walking away. 

Your eyes follow him out the door, shoulder blades flexing under cotton when he runs another hand through his hair before disappearing from sight. You try to push down the small pang of jealousy that makes a familiar home inside your chest remembering the blond girl waiting for him on the couch.

“Okay, okay,” Robin interrupts your inner struggle at the perfect time, sliding an overflowing shot over to you with a giggle that's contagious and it banishes Steve from your mind just like magic. “I’m not going to forget this time, promise.”

“I don’t think I can afford for you to forget again,” you smirk, raising your glass, tequila spilling over the tops of your fingers, “cheers!”

“Cheers!” 

You both down them at the same speed, slamming the empty glasses back onto the countertop with laughter that bounces off the walls and threatens to drown out the music. And for a second you think maybe you can actually do this.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” She squeals, throwing her arms around your neck, doing a terrible job of holding her weight up. Grabbing onto her waist, you do your best to steady her, “Look I just want to say while he’s gone, I know this isn’t easy for you, okay? I know.”

She hiccups before pulling away slightly to look at you as she finishes,“But It means so much to me, and I just wanna say I’m proud of you. I mean, who knows, you’ve changed, he’s changed-”

“Nope, no, you’re done. Where’s the weed? I wanna smoke some weed.” You push Robin away, rolling your eyes at the loud laugh your reaction gets from her.

There’s a long summer ahead of you, but right now, all you need is to find a joint and try not to think about your ex in the next room.

With a few more shots and a couple of hits from a blunt you and Robin you’d stumbled upon being passed amongst a group outside, you start to really feel like you’re back home. Nostalgia hits you hard in the gut as you walk through the crowded living room hand in hand with your best friend, giggling and stumbling back to the kitchen on the hunt for some food. 

“God, I’m so hungry!” Robin practically growls when you hit the harsh lighting again making you both hiss.

An empty bottle of tequila sits on the counter now and red solo cups litter the floor that weren’t there before, and a growing pile of bitten into limes cover the counters in a sticky mess. Alone and left to your own devices Robin begins to raid the cupboards, huffing when she finds nothing behind every door she aggressively yanks open.

“Why is his kitchen always so empty? Like? Do we just always miss the party?” You hiccup, tripping on a tile that’s coming out of the grout. 

You catch yourself on the kitchen island in front of you, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest, too drunk to focus on how gross the formica feels under your fingertips.

“There’s literally nothing to eat in here, not even like an old bag of stale chips.” She opens the first cabinet one last time before slamming it shut, officially giving up with a thump of her forehead against the wood. “This is why he’s always at the diner.”

“Wait, Rick actually lives here still?” Another hiccup, you foolishly lean your elbows on the counter, something you’ll regret in the morning as you stare at your best friend with a toothy smile, completely unaffected by the news about the missing food that seems to be ruining her entire mood.

“How can he sell weed and not have any food in his house? What happens when he gets the munchies?!” She throws her hands up, ignoring your question and answering it all at the same time. “I’m gonna find a bathroom, and then we’re gonna find Steve - don’t make that face, he’ll take us through a drive-thru.”

“Don’t be gone long, I don’t know anyone here!” You whine with a childish drunk stomp of your foot, still sporting that sour look she told you to wipe off. The carefree girl from moments before now gone in the blink of an eye.

“Literally like five minutes, I swear!” She promises, turning around with a smirk as she crosses her heart with a ring covered finger like you used to do as kids, easily earning the smile from you she was hoping for.

You watch her disappear into the party, staring after bouncing honey waves until they’re out of your sight. 

Suddenly alone for the first time in hours, the kitchen feels quiet. The bass of the music is distant, and your thoughts are heavy just like your feet as your last shot of tequila settles with the rest. Your brain wanders to places that you thought you’d banished from the corners of your mind for years. It takes you to the pink fullness of his lips, and has you biting the bottom of yours. Then it’s the freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and explode across his cheeks, even leaving their mark on the bottom of his earlobe.

You’d found that one the night you’d tried to count them all. You never finished.

Then you remember the blond on the couch, and how her pink nails dug into the thick chestnut of his hair that you used to tug on when his kisses got to be too much. She turns into Nancy Wheeler and those stolen looks in the hallways at school, and suddenly, you hate him all over again.

“Jesus, you’re in here alone? Where’s Robin?” Steve’s voice makes you jump at the worst possible time, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scar-“

“Seriously?!” You snap, turning around with crossed arms. Leaning against the counter, you hope that you don’t seem as drunk as you are, but the way his lips twitch regardless of your attitude tells you that it’s not working. “She went to the bathroom and then was going to look for you.”

“So, it just makes sense for me to hang out here then, right?”Steve raises his hands in a silent plea for permission. 

His big boots take heavy steps towards you, and just like on cue, has your body betraying you. The plush dough of your thighs pressing harder together each time he gets closer to closing the gap. 

Cautiously taking the spot a few feet away from you, he keeps his hands up till he feels safe enough to shove them in his pockets. The spice of his cologne smells fresh, and you wonder if he sprayed it before walking in here. It overpowers everything else around you, invading your senses and committing itself to memory despite you.

“I um, I really hope this is okay to say,” he stammers watching the way one of your eyebrows arches up, and it doesn’t take long for his hand to escape from his pocket to run through his hair again, “but it’s, it’s good to see you. I m-missed you, Robin’s missed you.”

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your girlfriend?” You ignore him and tuck his words away to unpack another time with a sober mind.

“Cassie? She’s not my girlfriend.” He answers without any hesitation, something sparking alive inside the gold of his eyes that has one side of his mouth tugging up. 

“Does she know that?” 

“I’m pretty sure she does considering she left with another guy not that long ago.” He snorts, the confidence you’ve always known him to have finding its way back, and you don’t miss the way he scoots closer. 

So you scoot back.

“Sucks to suck, Harrington.” You sigh, impressed with how well you’re playing off the victory lap you’re shamefully running in your head at the new information.

“There you are!” Robin rushes in, face flushed and out of breath, interrupting the moment you weren’t ready to have yet at the perfect time “Somehow I got roped into like a keg stand and I think it’s really time for us to go home guys.”

“Robin!” 

“What?!”

She tries to shush you, but even you can see from across the room the way sweat starts to bead across her forehead, the blush in her cheeks going pale before she runs to the trash can. Steve pushes off the island without any hesitation, rushing to the other side of the kitchen, gathering her hair in his hands to hold it back.

“What were you thinking?” Steve scolds her in the softest way possible, rubbing her back as all the beer finds its way out of her body.  

Those big eyes of his that you’re sure are going to haunt your dreams meet yours, and in that moment the room decides it wants to spin. You’re not sure if it’s the night of tequila with nothing but a weed chaser catching up to you or if it’s the onslaught of feelings you’ve successfully suppressed for the last five years coming back to seek their revenge. The deadly combination of both comes to a head the more you watch the gentle way Steve handles Robin and it makes you realize it’s time to go.

You manage to pull yourself together enough to help Steve get Robin in his car, heart almost stopping when you walk up to the same Maroon BMW he took your virginity in. It takes everything inside of you not to abort the mission, run to Robin’s apartment by figuring your way through the woods you used to play in, do anything but sit in those leather seats. But your best friend’s drunk rambles of how happy she is to have her ‘two amigos and how that it makes three now’ while professing her undying love for both of you has you putting on a brave face, and then your big girl pants when you have to sit in the front seat next to him.

It’s in perfect condition, just like the morning he pulled into the parking lot Junior year with it. Your stomach twists in the kind of knots that have you wrapping your arms around your waist. The smell of leather and pine pulling on the back of your throat, and all the memories that come with it. He keeps the radio low, and you can hardly make out the faint sounds of whatever late night talk show was on over the soft snores of a passed out Robin in the backseat. 

“I thought you’d have a different car by now.” You grumble sinking further into your seat, keeping your eyes trained on the trees that zoom past your window.

“You’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands, honey.” Steve chuckles, relaxing a little more into his own, a big hand finding a new resting spot on the stick shift.

The endearment sends you reeling, the tequila making it hard to bite your tongue.

“Don’t call me that.” Quickly realizing that staring out the window does nothing to help your already dicey equilibrium, you decide to finally look at him, but you’re not sure if that’s any better.

‘What? Honey?” He asks, fully knowing the answer but egging you on just the same with a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Narrowing your eyes, you turn fully in your seat doing your best to ignore the way the street lights bounce off his sharp features as you face him.

“What? So you just make out with girls that you’re not dating and get away with it?” 

Steve snorts, licking his lips and meeting your angry gaze with an amused one. 

“I am twenty-four and single.”

Scoffing at his answer, you pause to collect your words that keep getting tangled on the tip of your tongue from too many drinks and how the whites of his teeth start to show in a grin as he glances in the rearview mirror to check on Robin.

“You think you can do whatever you want don’t you?”

“No -“

“What? Because you didn’t peak in high school like you were supposed to, you somehow just got hotter, you think the rules don’t apply to you or something?”

“Good to know you still think I’m hot.” Steve’s face cracks into a smile, turning into an apartment complex you’re assuming is Robin’s. 

“You’re the worst,” you try to deflect weakly, turning back in your seat with a huff.

“I definitely used to be,” he mumbles mostly to himself, putting the car in park, both of you jerking forward slightly. The sudden lack of movement makes Robin groan in the back, lashes fluttering open to look at her surroundings.

“Oh, thank god, I think I’m gonna be sick again.” Her throat sounds hoarse when she finally speaks, but it’s all she can manage before a dry heave has the boy next to you scrambling.

“Not in my car! Not in my car!” Steve’s quick to jump out of the driver's seat rushing to get your best friend out of the back, leaving you alone to fight with your seatbelt. 

Frustrated, you blow a breath out from between your pressed lips tugging on the smooth material while your thumb smashes the release button. It doesn’t budge and the cedar starts to pick at your nerves. An angry noise squeaks from the back of your throat catching Steve’s attention who finally gets Robin on her feet. The spice of his cologne swallows you whole when he emerges back into the car. Leaning over the console he’s gentle when he pushes your hand away. You don’t protest his help this time, eyes tracing the gold chain that slips out from under his shirt. It shimmers everytime it swings from his neck when it hits the moonlight, clicking the button with ease, releasing you from your self imposed trap.

“Thanks,” you grumble, using a wobbling arm to open your door, clambering out less gracefully than you intended.

“Are you good to follow me? I don’t think Robin’s gonna make it up the steps on her own.” Closing the car door, he leans over the top of it, his eyes watching the way you maneuver around his car like you’re walking on thin ice.

“I’m fine,” you growl, right as you lose your footing catching yourself with an open palm on the hood of his trunk.

“Seriously, I can help I just have to take you both one at a -“

“Steve, I said I’m fine. I don’t need anything from you.” You interrupt and if you weren’t so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, you’d see the way the harshness of your words make him wince.

He stares at you for a minute longer before muttering a quiet ‘whatever’ scooping Robin up and tucking her into his side. You follow them at your own pace up the cement steps to the second floor, thankful that her apartment isn’t too far from the landing when you get to the top. Your legs start to feel like Jell-O waiting for him to unlock the door, the long drive from New York and the night finally catching up to you in a way that makes your eyelids heavy as Steve pushes open her front door. 

“Bathroom! Bathroom!” Robin manages to get out when she and Steve cross the threshold first, a string of cuss words spilling out of his mouth as he tries to hurry her to the place she was begging to be taken to.

You use the full force of your weight with your back to the door, closing behind you with a loud slam. The navy blue couch in the middle of her living room begging you to sit down, an invitation your clumsy steps accept, leading you to the fluffy cushions. Collapsing onto them with a satisfied hum, you sink into the foam, lashes fluttering and eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes, and soon you find yourself giving in with a warm cheek pressed into the arm rest.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the feeling of your laces being tugged loose stirs you awake. Trying to focus with vision still blurry from sleep, Steve’s messy head of hair comes clear into your line of sight. Long fingers pull the white strings from the metal eyelets of your converse, a warm palm wrapping around your ankle that sends a shiver up your spine as he slowly wiggles your sneaker off your foot. The white tube socks that cover your feet make him smile with a thumb that dares to rub a small circle on your skin before dropping it to work on the other.

“Steve,” you manage to get out, voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m just tucking you in, that’s all hon- and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He clears his throat after the nickname that set you off earlier burns like acid dying on his tongue.

You grumble something unintelligible, rubbing the mascara off your eyes as he pulls your other shoe off the pad of his thumb doing the same thing to your other ankle making your toes curl. Both his hands find their way to your calves squeezing softly at the muscles before he starts to lift them up.

“Come on, let's get you laying on your side.” He coos, helping you adjust so you’re finally horizontal. You groan a little, reaching out for him on instinct, the softness of his touch making a very drunk you crave more. 

“I’d love to cuddle but I think you’d actually kill me in the morning,” he laughs to himself knowing you won’t remember any of this when you wake up.

You make some more noises that he can’t figure out if they're supposed to be words or not as he drapes Robin’s thick throw blanket over you. Grabbing the material in your fists when you feel it, you pull it even closer, a low satisfied hum spilling from between your lips that still sparkle with leftover glitter from your gloss. He watches the way you curl into yourself, fingers twitching at his side to run his knuckles over your cheek.

“Steve,” his name comes out clear as day, kicking up his heart rate.

“Yeah?” He squats down next to your face, the warmth of your breath hitting his face while your eyebrows furrow in your sleepy state trying to get whatever you want to say out.

“You really broke my heart, you know that?”

Your words punch the air out of his lungs, just like your unexpected arrival. Something he’s fantasized about happening more times than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs defeated, giving into his urges for comfort with knuckles that brush against the warmth of your skin, a familiar burn stings his eyes when you subconsciously lean into it. 

You don’t say anything else to him, the furrow of your brows smoothing out as your face finally starts to relax under his touch. He watches the way your shoulders move with each deep breath that pulls you further into sleep and away from him. 

He takes a selfish minute to stare at you uninterrupted, tracing your cheekbone one last time before he stands up to leave, he knows he won’t get any sleep, and the words you won’t remember saying are already haunting him like a bad dream.

“Do you really wanna love me like you say you do? Give it to me like you say you do? Cause it’s hard enough you gotta treat me like this, lonely enough to let you treat me like this. Do you really love me?”

Steve was late, glancing down at pink the digital watch on your wrist, fifteen minutes late. Five lockers down from his, you wait for him at what’s been your meeting spot for the last eight months. Far away enough from his locker that no one would suspect you waiting for the King of Hawkins himself, but close enough to the janitor's closet for him to steal you away from sight without anyone noticing for the forty-five minutes of study hall. 

Hushed argumentative whispers catch your attention, nerves making your feet move from side to side unsure if you should abandon ship and just go and study for the final in your last period. Nancy Wheeler's eyes meet yours as she rounds the corner with her best friend Barb, the corners of her lips pulling up ever so slightly giving you a small wave which you return as she tries to ignore her friend.

“He’s just trying to get in your pants! Come on, you have to be smart enough to know that.” Barb points at the note Nancy is clutching in her hand so hard that the whites of her knuckles show.

“It’s not like that, I’m just tutoring him.” She argues but the blush that creeps across her cheeks and spreads down her neck gives her away.

I’m just tutoring him.

That simple sentence is enough for your world to tip off its axis, chest tightening at the realization of who they're arguing about. All the canceled plans the past few weeks with the excuse of extra tutoring starts to feel like a knife to the gut. Prince Charming rounds the corner holding and twists the handle with a bright flirtatious smile that used to be just for you, only now it’s flashed at the dainty brunette who melts under it because no one is immune to Steve Harrington. 

It takes him a minute to see you, too wrapped up in Nancy who’s back is pressed to the lockers, caged in by Steve’s big hand splayed against the metal by her head. They’re too far to hear what he’s saying to her, but the confident way his teeth flash and the sweet giggle he earns from it tells you everything you need to know. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. Fists clenched at your sides, the blunt ends of your nails dig into your palms as you hold in the sob that threatens to give you away as you walk past them, meeting his guilty eyes before you round the corner.  

The pounding in your head wakes you up before the sun that leaks through Robin’s small kitchen window. Your hangover rings in your ears with a vengeance, and has you letting out a pained groan. Everything after the joint you shared outside at the party is nothing but a blur, a scattered puzzle with pieces missing as you try and figure out how you ended up back home and tucked into the couch. 

“Are you alive out there?” Robin’s voice calls out weakly from down the hall in her room. 

“Barely,” you grumble, agitation kicking in from dehydration and the old wounds your dream decided to rip open.

“I’d say I’m never drinking again but we both know that’s a lie,” she says, muffled by what sounds like a pillow.

A giggle tries to escape, but it only makes you wince, clutching your forehead willing the pain to subside.

“How’d we even get home?” You croak, rubbing harshly at your eyes before attempting to sit up, covering them with a cupped palm as your surroundings get brighter.

“Steve,” Robin’s voice comes out right next to you, surprising you by appearing in the entryway. 

Hearing his name out loud sends the kind of rage that scorches through your veins, it burns from your fingertips remembering the look on his face when you broke up a few weeks after that day in the hallway your dreams so sweetly reminded you of. 

It was Pity.

Your best friend ignores your silence and the sour look on your face as you silently take a trip down memory lane while she shuffles into the living room wandering to the attached kitchen. 

“How far is Eddie’s shop from here?” You grimace watching her chug from a carton of orange juice.

“Oh, super close. You can walk from here.” She answers, wiping her upper lip with the back of your hand, “they opened like two hours ago, I’m sure he’s already looked at your car.”

“I think I’m going to shower and go over, do you want to come with me?” Raising your hands above your head, you stretch your sore muscles as a yawn comes out in the middle of your question.

“I think I need to rot in bed for a little while longer before I go walk amongst the living, I promise I’m all yours after I don’t feel like a freaking crypt keeper.” Your yawn is contagious, giving you a view of all her perfectly straight teeth.

“I demand something greasy for lunch when I get back then.” You point at her finding your footing on the carpet, noticing your converse are tucked nice and neat against the couch next to you. The feeling of Steve’s knuckles is a ghost against your skin, details starting to come out clear from the murky waters. 

Heat rushes to your cheek at the memory while your emotions start to go at war with each other over what to feel towards the man who tucked you and your best friend in last night, but also broke your heart in a way you don’t think you’ll ever quite forget. 

“I’m on it boss, god, I wish Benny’s was still open.” Robin interrupts the inner struggle she’s oblivious to you having as she walks past you flinging herself on the couch you’d just won the battle of leaving “But I’ll think of something good, I promise.”

Just like your yawn, the smile she gives you is contagious despite the sharp pain you get in your head from moving too much and you both laugh wincing when it only gets worse. 

Ibuprofen first, then your car.

Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud in sight to hide you from its light. 

The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty-four hours and everything it’s unraveled.

The small parking lot is empty when you reach it, kicking small rocks with the toe of your sneaker as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi-lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall-clad legs underneath it.

Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you get a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, a dimple filled grin lighting up his face waving excitedly from his chair before standing up.

“Glad to see you’re alive, princess.” He teases stepping out of his glass case, with coveralls that are gray today.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle,” you laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to have any reaction to the sound of your voice.

“Oh, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dancing across his arm with his movements.

“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.

“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed, “I slept through my alarm.”

The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light with obvious amusement. 

“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of it shines with sweat. 

“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.” 

That was a lie, he begged him.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Snorting, your attitude makes him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, his lack of sleep leaving him with thin patience.

He stops just close enough for you to smell how the woodsy spice of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.

“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way both of your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.

“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.

“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”

“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial-up on the radio in his office. End of discussion.

“Look -“

“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them. 

A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it helps your blood pressure return to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.

“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“

“Shit? Yeah, I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…

“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.

“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him. 

“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe, like, six months ago.”

“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”

“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.

“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.” 

“Is this the bad news?” 

“Kind of,”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.

“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.

“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.

“You’re gonna be just fine, city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”

He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck. 

“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.

“Me?” 

He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch. 

“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.

He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath. 

Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.

“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes. 

“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap. A thumb and forefinger finding their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his toothpaste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.

“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts, okay?”

It’s like detention junior year all over again as you turn into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his workbench before adding,

“Do me a favor and tell Robin she owes me a new shirt.”

beta’d by @sweetsweetjellybean

🌻 chapter two

[ariaste]

Hello, published author here who just noticed a thing in the s3 teaser that may help us to determine the timeline:

This is not an ARC. ARCs, aka "Advance Review Copies" or "Advance Reader Copies" are sent out in advance of the publication of a book in order for magazines/newspapers/whoever (and these days, online book influencers) to review it, and for booksellers to have a chance to read it so they can order copies for their store and hand-sell it better on publication day. ARCs usually go out around 3-4 months before publication.

ARCs are also sometimes called "advance uncorrected proofs" because they usually haven't been through copyedits yet (aka typo-finding and punctuation-checking). ARCs are always clearly marked on the front cover as what they are, to make it harder for people to sell them online and so that bookstores don't accidentally put them out as merchandise.

We know that the IWTV team knows this becaaaaause, from the end of s2e8:

*THAT'S* an ARC. You can see how it says so all over, both "advance reader's copy" and "advance uncorrected proof". It's also a paperback (as ARCs usually are) rather than the hardback that Lestat is holding -- all very typical and correct.

And here is a finished copy. And we know exactly how far after publication it is, because:

Daniel also gives a shout out to a "book fair" and Atlanta, which I take to mean the Decatur Book Festival, which takes place in October. So that means the book would have been published in June -- nice timing! Get all that good Pride Month promo for this gay-ass vampire memoir. So far we are nailing the Expected Publishing Industry Timeline And Behaviors.

So the only thing I can tell you definitively about what this means is that Louis got that ARC probably in February, aka around eight fucking months ago at the end of s2, and still hasn't even skimmed it, and that is HILARIOUS of him. not a shred of guilt on him about it either. (if you get a print ARC (as opposed to an e-ARC) and you don't even read it, it is polite to be a little embarrassed about that. not my personal best friend Louis DPDL tho.)

As for whether Daniel is a vampire during the s3 trailer -- the thing we are all clamoring to know -- I have two possible ways the timeline could be working, given the publishing industry stuff:

OPTION 1: Louis leaves Dubai -> Goes to New Orleans for Depression Hovel reunion, refuses to get back together with Lestat -> Lestat "I will woo him back with a Song, just like last time. ok that didn't work I'LL GO BIGGER. that didn't work. BIGGER" Lioncourt starts his rockstar career as a Gotta Get My Man Back tantrum -> Daniel finishes the manuscript, delivers it to his publisher, and sends an ARC to Louis (February) -> Book is published, bestseller (June) -> Daniel (who was turned at some unknown point) goes on TV about it (October) -> famous currently-bestselling journalist gets in touch with up-and-coming rockstar to get his side of the story -> Lestat has a mental breakdown on camera about how Louis is not even paying attention to all the albums he is recording, hurtful, tragic, heartbreaking

or

OPTION 2: Daniel DEFINITELY got out of Dubai alive -> [all of the above up to "Daniel sends an ARC to Louis"] -> book is getting great reviews -> already-famous Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist gets in contact with up-and-coming rockstar to do the sequel even before the book is out (slightly odd publishing choice but when you have two Pulitzers, the rules are different, so it's not implausible) -> Daniel gets his finished copies of the book (which brings us to probably May at the earliest; you don't usually get your finished copies more than a month in advance) and has one on set for interviewing Lestat -> Lestat has his sexy little rockstar breakdown on camera -> Daniel is human for interviewing Lestat but gets turned by Armand somewhere in the five-month span between finished copies arriving in May and his TV interview in October.

Option 1 gives the show writers a little more timeline wiggle room, which can be useful, but Option 2 is more Dramatic and builds extra tension if Daniel is trying to do this interview while not having a good time with his Parkinson's. Either way Louis is just out here not answering anybody's phone calls or reading the lovely ARC he was so thoughtfully sent bc he's busy redecorating his house.

THAT SAID, please take all of this with a grain of salt, i have been losing my mind over the s3 trailer and i may have missed something

this has been your war correspondent a report from the publishing industry. thank you and goodnight

[avatar-anna]

Unknown Number Part 2

the long anticipated part two to unknown number. enjoy!

Part Three is now up!

italics: y/n (unknown number)

bold: harry

(one day later)

HS: Hey, I haven't heard from you. Is everything okay?

HS: I know you're busy and everything, but maybe you feel differently after us talking?

HS: It doesn't have to be different. We can go back to just texting I don't mind.

(one day later)

HS: You're not avoiding me are you?

HS: June?

(one day later)

HS: I don't know what I did, but whatever it is I'm sorry.

HS: But I'm starting to get worried. Are you okay? Like safety wise? Cold shoulder I can take but I would feel awful if you were hurt or in danger or something?

HS: Can you at least let me know you're alright?

J is typing...

(twenty minutes later)

J: i'm fine

HS: Good!

HS: Did I do something?

J: no i just think i was served a cold dose of reality a couple days ago

J: sorry for disappearing on you

HS: It's okay.

HS: Would you be more comfortable if we just went back to texting?

J is typing...

J: maybe

HS: Maybe?

J: i...like the sound of your voice

HS: You do, do you? ;))

J: don't be smug!

HS: I'm not, I swear!

HS is typing...

HS: I like the sound of your voice too.

(later that evening)

Y/n stared down at her phone and wondered if she was the biggest asshole on the planet.

She was never supposed to know who H was. Sure, she'd thought about it, had stayed up for hours thinking about who might be on the other side of their conversations. But it was all guessing and daydreaming. Y/n never actually thought she'd figure it out. Or that H would stand for Harry. As in Harry mother fucking Styles.

The person Y/n had been texting wasn't some serial killer or internet troll or some random person. He was one of the most popular names in pop culture right now. And not only that, they were in the same vicinity for the next few months while Five Seconds of Summer opened for One Direction.

When she heard H's voice, when she realized H was Harry, Y/n ran. She high-tailed it back to the tour bus, shooting a quick text to One Direction's stylist to tell her she wasn't feeling well and if she could take care of her band. Y/n pretended to be sick for a couple days while she hid on the tour bus. No one questioned it, but she did feel a little guilty for not doing the job she was paid to do.

But what was she supposed to do? The potential for running into Harry was extremely high. Y/n had no idea what she would do if they spoke and he came to the same realization as she had. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle the disappointment on Harry's face when he saw her and knew.

Pursing her lips, she typed out a new message.

(ten minutes from the last text)

J: do you ever think about us meeting?

(five minutes later)

HS: All the time.

J: you do?

HS: Of course. I mean it's hard not to.

J: do you...think you'd ever be disappointed by meeting me?

HS: Uh no?

HS: Is there a reason for this line of questioning?

J: no not really. just curious

HS: Somehow I feel like that's not true.

J: i don't know

J: i'm not sure why i'm in my head about this it's not like we'll actually meet

HS: You really think that?

J: do you think we ever would?

HS: I don't know.

HS: But I think I'd like to. One day.

J: you don't even know me!

HS: I do though!

HS: And you know me too!

HS: Where is all of this coming from?

J: i just think we should be realistic

J: i texted you by accident and we've become like modern day pen pals or something

HS: So you...don't want to meet me? Ever?

J: it's not about want it's about practicality. i just don't think talking about us in that way is smart

HS: You brought it up!

HS: And what do you mean by us?

(fifteen minutes later)

HS: Oh, so you're gonna ignore me now? Real mature.

HS: You're the one who brought all of this up you know.

HS: But you're probably right. I know I've been bothering you, but I think you had the right idea. I think we need a little space.

(one day later)

Harry was unreasonably irritated. Angry didn't seem like the right word, but nothing about his situation was normal.

June was technically right. This whole thing was ridiculous and nonsensical and completely impractical. There was no scenario where they would ever meet or...

Harry couldn't even think about it. Thinking about June like that...thinking about June at all outside of their messages was stupid. He didn't need to be thinking about her, about anyone that way.

So why was he so frustrated?

Maybe it was that June wrote him off so quickly and seemingly out of nowhere. It wasn't like they ever needed to talk about the obvious, which was that they'd probably never meet despite the fact that he'd grown fond of her. Harry was perfectly content to talk about whatever popped into his head or June's latest Tinder date—though that topic was slowly starting to grate on Harry for reasons he refused to admit. Now it was a jumbled mess.

With his head bent, Harry walked toward craft services. He pulled out his phone, looking at past conversations and willing himself not to send another one. June hadn't responded to him since his last message, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, it was what he'd asked for, but he still was itching to talk to her. Harry had grown used to expecting a quick response, had enjoyed June's wit and charming personality with each message she sent.

And now it was all weird and Harry's emotions were all over the place.

"Oof! Hey, watch where you're going!"

Harry glared down at the young woman who'd bumped into him—or who he'd bumped into, but he was too caught up in his own world to realize it. The young woman's eyes widened in shock as she stepped away from him. She opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, but nothing came out. Maybe a little squeaking.

He'd seen her around before, but not much. Honestly, these days Harry was usually holed up somewhere on the bus or at the venue texting June. But he'd seen the back of her head as she scurried around, or at a table on her own during lunch as she scrolled on her phone. He was pretty sure she was Five Seconds of Summer's stylist, but he didn't know for sure.

Raising his eyes at her expectantly. Harry waited for her to say something. "Sorry," she said, barely said. She was so quiet, Harry could hardly hear it. She looked scared of him, which made him feel bad. He was in a mood, but he didn't want to make anyone feel terrified of him, and this girl looked like she was about to cry.

He tried to apologize, but she scurried off before he could. Harry watched her go and sighed. He couldn't wait to get onstage and forget about June and the texts and all the ways she made him feel things he wasn't supposed to feel.

(later that night)

HS: Are we okay?

J: i don't know

J: i think so

HS: I feel like I'm going crazy.

J: how so?

HS: All I've been able to think about is our last conversation. I don't want to not talk to you.

HS: Can I admit something?

J: of course

HS is typing...

HS: I want to hear your voice again.

(five minutes later)

HS: You know, for the first time I think I actually kind of sounded like a creep.

HS: I didn't mean it in a creepy way I promise.

J: i know what you meant

J: in every other circumstance it would raise a red flag

HS: But this time?

J: i think i just want to hear your voice again too

HS: Yeah?

J: i'm not going to say it again to boost your ego

HS: :((

J: you know, you say all the time that you don't date, but i have a feeling you like having your ego fluffed

HS: Who doesn't?

J: attention whore. that's what you are!

HS: That was mean >:(

J: i would like to make it known that i'm sticking my tongue out right now

HS: I'm flipping you off!

(five minutes later)

J: so we're okay?

HS: Yeah. We're okay.

(one day later)

J: are boys always filled with energy?

HS: I would say 90 percent of the time. Why?

J: my clients are just...a lot sometimes

J: very nice but a lot

J: like the brothers i never asked for

HS: Aw. Are they getting on your case about your bad taste in men now too?

J: you're not as funny as you think you are

J: and maybe

J: they tease me about the constant beeping of my phone. they want to know who i'm texting all the time

HS: And what do you say?

J: that i'm texting my boyfriend

J: i feel like it keeps them at bay

HS: Boyfriend huh?

J: oh hush

HS: Don't tell anyone, but I like the sound of that.

J: don't tell anyone but i do too

(two minutes later)

J: i feel like we're wandering into dangerous territory here

HS: Maybe.

HS: I'm not as bothered about it as I thought though.

J: no?

HS: Are you?

HS: Sorry. You don't have to answer that.

J: that's ok. i just don't know how i feel

J: not a cop out just the truth

HS: I believe you. Will you tell me when you do know?

J: of course

(later that night)

J: how does one acquire a new mother?

HS: Typically through divorce.

J: that won't work. my parents are miserable people together. kindred spirits

HS: what did she do this time?

J: it's stupid

HS: Not if it made you upset.

(ten minutes later)

HS: June?

J: sorry i was crying

HS is typing...

(one minute later)

Y/n's eyes widened at the incoming phone call on her screen. She knew she shouldn't have told him she was upset, but she needed someone to talk to, and somehow H had become the person she confided in.

Even then she didn't expect Harry to call her.

Hesitantly, Y/n picked up the phone. "H—Hello?"

"Why were you crying, June?"

"I'm fine, H, I promise—"

"No, you're not. I can still hear it in your voice. What's wrong?"

"I..." Was their first conversation really going to be her crying to H about her family drama? Y/n knew perfectly well that he probably had a million other things he could be doing. She was aware that both bands typically went out after shows. The boys of Five Seconds of Summer had tried to persuade her to go out numerous times, but she had yet to take the bait. Y/n was perfectly happy to lay in her bunk and text H, who she now realized might have been in a bunk of his own a couple buses over. The thought made her stomach feel fluttery and nauseous at the same time.

"My mom posted on Facebook about one of my cousins who just got married," Y/n explained. "And she said, or commented, or whatever that she was, 'so happy' and 'so proud' of the 'daughter she always wanted.'"

"Oh, June, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, I swear it's fine," Y/n insisted, but even as she said it, she felt more tears begin to leak from her eyes. "I knew she was disappointed. Marriage is a huge deal in my family, and I didn't want—She called her the daughter she always wanted. What kind of mother says that?"

Y/n knew she was something of an outcast in her family, but she never thought her mom would say something like that, and so publicly. Facebook was her family's way of staying connected. This was a message for her entire extended family, not just Y/n.

"June, I—I don't even know what to say. That's horrible," H said.

"And you know what's the worst part?" Y/n asked. "Deep down I can't help but wonder if I should just settle down and get married like she wants me to because really, what am I doing here? I've been trying to make my way in this industry, but at what cost? My family has all but disowned me, I hardly have any friends because I live in a new town that just eats up my meager paychecks, and—"

"Hey," H said gently. "Do you really think you'd be happier back home with...with a husband at, what? 22?"

Y/n sniffled and rubbed her eye. "Probably, not, but—"

"And do you want this?" he asked.

"I thought I did."

"June. Do. You. Want. This?" he repeated.

He was the only person Y/n would admit it to. "I...I really do, H."

"Then go for it," he said. "I believe in you. In a year or two, everyone is going to want to work with you. You'll be the one turning people down."

"If only."

"Hey, that's not the voice of a confident woman. I need to hear confidence."

"H—"

"No, I need confidence. I can't be the only one believing in you here," H said, which made you smile despite the tear stains on your cheeks. "Do you need me to shout it? Because I will. Don't think I won't."

Y/n tried to stop him, but H proceeded to shout—to whom, she wasn't sure—that she was the best stylist and that she was the coolest person he knew and all sorts of nonsense that made her giggle and continually tell him to shut up.

"Okay. That's enough! Harry, that's—"

She stopped immediately. It was a slip of the tongue. Y/n had gotten caught up in the moment and his name just...it just came out. Her heart stopped and her hands began to shake, nearly making her drop her phone in her lap.

Y/n prayed that he missed it, that amidst all the laughing and shouting, H didn't hear it. But the minute his name left her lips, it was dead quiet.

"How do you know my name?" he asked. His voice wasn't lighthearted anymore. It was stone cold, closed off.

"I...I don't—"

"You do. You just said Harry. How do you know me? Have you known the whole time?"

"No! I didn't—I don't—"

"I can't believe this. I can't believe that I...that I let myself fall for this. You—You lied!"

"I didn't lie! I swear, I never—I never knew anything until..."

"Until what?" he shouted, and you flinched.

What was she supposed to say? That they were on tour together? Harry would definitely think she stalked him then. He was so angry, there was no way he would listen to reason right now.

"Until what, June?"

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Don't try to contact me again, or I'll call the police," he said harshly before hanging up.

Y/n could only stare down at her phone in disbelief.

(two days later)

Y/n decided to spend her days perusing thrift stores. Hiding, really.

Her first-ever clients as a stylist were pretty low-maintenance. When she met them for the first time and saw their scuffed-up sneakers and ripped jeans, Y/n knew she wouldn't be stretching her creativity pretty far. But her job was to find clothes that represented her clients' image, which was exactly what she did.

While everyone else on tour was doing who knew what, Y/n went to local thrift stores in search of vintage t-shirts and good quality jeans that would be easy to move around him. One time, she came back with a pair of gorgeous leather boots that she thought would be perfect for Luke, but he said outright that he wouldn't wear them. Boys, honestly.

It wasn't much, but they appreciated when she came back with cool band and graphic shirts. She sewed up holes and ripped new ones when she was asked. Y/n felt like Snow White sometimes, and the boys were her dwarfs, but they were nice and funny and kept her distracted, which she needed right now.

She was in a small thrift store in Oregon, a couple pieces on her arm—two flannels, a baseball tee, a t-shirt with Kurt Cobain on it, and a couple leather bracelets. Now that she'd been on tour with the wonderful members of Five Seconds of Summer, Y/n had an idea of what each member liked. They had very similar styles and often shared the clothes she picked out for them—which honestly made her life easier considering her smaller-than-small budget.

But she still thought about H, of course she did. There were times when she felt compelled to go up to him at the concert venue, or even his tour bus, but she feared that would just make things worse. He already thought she was a stalker, she wasn't going to make it worse by just...appearing right in front of him.

She didn't know what to do, but not doing anything made her heart hurt. Not talking to him made her heart hurt. Y/n couldn't believe that this was how their text friendship turned out. Of all the ways she imagined this thing ending, having Harry block her number and him virtually hating her.

"Just this today, hun?" the woman behind the counter asked when she brought the clothes up.

Y/n nodded. After her major slip up, she hadn't done much talking. She felt like a ghost, floating from place to place without a word until she could go back to her bus bunk and look at old messages. Y/n didn't really want to be on this tour anymore, but she couldn't bring herself to quit. She didn't have the energy.

Back at the new concert venue, Y/n went to the boys' dressing room. They crowded around her as she showed them the shirts and bracelets. "I can cut up the sleeves on some of them if you want," she said quietly.

"Really?"

"That'd be awesome!"

"Maybe a couple holes around the neck?"

"Do you think you could write 'IDIOT' on this one?"

Y/n had only been half-listening, but she looked over at Michael with her brows raised when he said that. "You want me to write what?"

"I don't know, I think it'd be cool. Don't you?"

All four of them looked to her at that. Since the tour started, the boys went to her for fashion advice. That was technically her job, but it felt like she suddenly had four younger brothers.

"Y—Yeah. Very punk rock. I'll get on that right now."

"You're the best, June!"

"I could kiss you!"

"Please don't," she said, shoulders tensing when they all squeezed her.

The four boys left her alone in search of food—because they were always hungry—and Y/n got to work. Or tried to. She was alone for all of two seconds before the door slammed open.

"Really? You fucking stalked your way onto this tour?"

It was the first time Y/n had seen Harry since the one time she bumped into him in the hallway a few days ago. Y/n thought he'd looked irritated then, but he looked downright furious now. His face was red and mouth turned into an angry frown. Y/n tried to speak, but she couldn't. She just kept staring at him, hoping the words to explain would come.

"I—It's not what you think—"

"You're sick! Sick in the head! I'm calling security. I can't believe this," he said, muttering the last part.

Sniffling, Y/n looked down at the clothes she was supposed to fix up for the boys. Her boys, she sometimes thought. She couldn't believe this was actually happening. Harry was in front of her, and he...he was calling security on her.

"You—You don't have to do that," she finally said. When she stood up, Harry stepped away from her. "I'll go. I swear. I know how this looks, and I know you won't believe me, but this is a coincidence. But...I'll go. You don't need to call security. I'll leave."

Y/n grabbed her things and the boys' clothes, not looking at Harry once. She couldn't handle seeing the look in his eyes. But she felt it. His glare burned his skin. She shuffled out of the room, head bent with her things in her hands. On her way out, she bumped into something. Someone.

"Woah, June. Is everything okay?"

It was Luke. He looked concerned, but she couldn't find it in him to explain. "I'm—I'm fine. I'm just going to finish this stuff up on the bus, okay? I'll have it done before the show."

Before he could say anything else, she left, trying to ignore what sounded like an argument starting in the room she'd vacated.

(three hours later)

Y/n was still on the tour bus fixing up the boys' clothes and waiting until it was time for her to leave for the airport. She knew she should've left right away, but she wanted to do this last thing. One last thing, and then she would be gone. It was almost time, and she'd finished cutting up the shirts, now she just needed to write the word 'IDIOT' on Michael's shirt. It was very fitting, Y/n felt like an absolute idiot for ever letting things get this far.

Still, she couldn't help but form a little smile as she sketched out the letters with a pencil. This job wasn't necessarily what Y/n had wanted, but it also wasn't what she initially expected. She liked the 5SOS guys, and she had to admit that there was something adventurous about going to a new city every few days. The point was, she liked it more than she thought she would, and now it was over.

(thirty minutes later)

Harry had been standing in front of the crew's tour bus for ten minutes. He wasn't sure if she was there, and he wasn't sure if he wanted her to be there. But he was standing in front of the bus door anyway, trying to decide if he was going to knock.

He'd been furious. Furious and alarmed and freaked out. When he'd gotten the first text from June, Harry immediately thought that she was some crazed fan who had somehow obtained his number. He slowly realized that wasn't the case, or so he thought. June had been lying this whole time, and not only that, she managed to become a crew member on tour.

When he heard her voice outside Five Seconds of Summer's dressing room, Harry was floored, and then he was scared, and then he was angry. Why couldn't people just leave him alone? It wasn't enough that he performed and gave all these little pieces of himself to the world. Why did everyone expect to give over all of himself?

And he talked to June about that at length, and he thought he was confiding in her, he thought they were sharing with each other. But she was...she was just lying to him.

And yet, she was still June. Months of texting and everything he felt didn't just evaporate because he discovered the truth. She was funny and charismatic and seemed to really like him, and he liked her too. A lot.

It was why he was at the bus. Harry wanted an explanation. He deserved that at least.

It took about a minute for the door to open after he knocked on it. She peeked her head out, watery red eyes surprised, and a little scared, to see him standing there. Mixed emotions flared in Harry's chest at the sight of her. Something squeezed his heart at finally putting a face to all the messages, to the girl he couldn't go more than a day without talking to. June was very pretty with a thick head of hair, high cheekbones, and pouty pink lips. Her nose was red, as if she'd been crying, and the part of Harry that cared about his friend hated seeing her like that, hated to know that this was how their first meeting was turning out. Harry had daydreamed about meeting June for the first time many times. A lot of times. None of his daydreams looked like this.

"Um, I promise I'm leaving. My flight is later tonight, and I just thought—It doesn't matter, I'll go."

Harry had met a good number of crazy fans over the years, and while he knew June was one of them, she seemed rather subdued. Instead of jumping him at any possible moment this entire tour, she minded her business and didn't try to talk to him once. Maybe he was believing in something he wanted to believe, but June didn't seem like the crazy stalker fan that she was.

"I want to talk. I want an explanation," he said.

June nodded, not opening the door any further but reaching her hand through the small crack. "I wrote it all down. I was going to give it to someone to give to you. It was the least I could do."

She didn't even want to talk to him? Was this all just an act to gain his sympathy? There was no way of knowing. If this was all one big con, June was a very good actress.

Harry took the note from June and unfolded it, reading it carefully.

H,

I just want to start off by saying that you have every right to be angry, I understand that I have betrayed your trust. And I have betrayed your trust, just not in the way that you might think.

I found out who you were a few days ago, it was why I was avoiding your texts. I'd overheard you talking to Michael and the other boys in their dressing room. It was right after we'd sent all our voice messages, and I just knew it was you who was behind the door. I couldn't quite believe it.

But I also didn't know how to tell you that I knew. I was shocked and confused...and to be honest I didn't know what to do with the information. I just...wasn't expecting you.

So I kept the secret for a little while I tried to figure out how to tell you, and...Well, you saw how that turned out.

I just want you to know that I had no idea who you were when we first started texting. I truly gave my number to some idiot that I slept with, and by some twist of fate, he gave me your number instead. I didn't want to text you, I didn't want to like you, I didn't...expect to share so much of myself with you. I know this is harder on you for so many reasons, and you are justified in not trusting me, but it was hard for me too. Part of me thought that if I told you and you saw me, really saw me, that you would be disappointed or not impressed or something like that. You mean meant mean a lot to me, and the thought of ruining our tentative friendship by us meeting scared me, so I foolishly thought I could avoid you the rest of the tour.

I'm sorry that you found out the way you did, and I'm sorry it caused you so much emotional pain. I know you probably won't trust anything I've said, but I hope this might help you understand. And with the hope that I don't come off as the obsessed stalker that you already think I am, I really did do like you, and all your secrets are safe with me, as I hope mine are with you.

All my love,

Yours,

Sincerely,

Best wishes,

June Bug

Harry looked read the letter once, then twice, then looked up at June, who was still hiding behind the bus door. It had closed that much more, like she was trying to shut him out.

He knew he had a right not to trust her, and part of him still didn't. But another him was pushing her toward him, drawing him to her. His gut was telling him to hear her out, that she was the June Bug from all of their messages.

His show was in a little over an hour. He had last minute things to do and pre-show rituals to complete, and he knew that people would start looking for him soon. But he didn't want to go.

"Can—Can I come in?" he found himself asking. "To talk?"

June's brows raised, like she wasn't quite expecting Harry to ask her that. Which was a valid thing to think, of course, but now he was hoping she would let him in. Or send him away so they could avoid a difficult conversation.

"Sure. Are you—Are you sure?" she asked him, thick brows furrowing. Harry would've found the wrinkle between them cute if it wasn't for the situation.

Was he sure? "Y—Yes."

Nodding, June opened the door further to let him inside. Harry's hand brushed against hers on his way past her, and she immediately recoiled. He ignored it, and looked down at her for the first time. Really looked at her.

She really was beautiful, there was no denying that. June had a kind face, one that held so much emotion in it. Harry felt like he could read every little feeling as it flitted across her face. And right now, she was looking at him like one word out of his mouth could make or break her. Unable to handle that kind of pressure, Harry focused on a little scar that cut into June's brow.

"Um, so obviously you're familiar with the layout of the bus. Do you want to sit at the couches in the back? Or the tables here, or we could just stand—"

"The couches are fine," Harry said.

“O—Okay. Couches it is."

June turned around and headed for the back of the bus, strands of her hair swishing with each step she took. Harry followed, wondering if he'd just made a huge mistake or was taking a risk worth taking.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

tags: @cookielovesbook-akie @sucker4angstt @l0v3e1i @bellesmith628 @marigold-morelli @obsessedmaggiemay @sophthearthoe

[cat-in-a-box13]

Twisters HC Part 2, electric boogaloo

ft. my attempts to make a coherent timeline based almost entirely on vibes

Kate and Tyler take an excruciatingly long time to get together. If the movie is set is June (which is what I'm going with based on when tornado season starts and the fact that it makes the most sense for the movie to start a little after the beginning of tornado season), they dance around each other until August after the last chase of the season.

However, by the end of the first week, the Wranglers are sick of their shit. Boone dreams of locking them in a closet together. Javi and Lily actively scheme to make them room together. Dani sticks a post-it note to Tyler's back that says "kiss me" and shoves him at Kate. Dexter intentionally sets their sleeping bags together every time they chase overnight. Nothing works until Kate finally just walks up to him after the last chase of the season and asks if he plans on kissing her, and Tyler responds by dipping her in the sappiest Hallmark kiss you can imagine. No one is sure whether to cheer or groan, because from here on out they will be even more insufferable.

Two weeks after she starts dating Tyler, Kate wakes Javi up in the middle of the night sobbing about how she's going to get him killed just like she got Jeb killed. Javi just silently calls her mom and hands her the phone. Cathy provides expert advice, and Javi provides hesitant head pats because what do you say to that?

Javi and Kate fight like siblings. The first time Javi steals Kate skittles and she full on tackles him, it surprised the Wranglers. The third time, no one even looked up. The seventh time, Tyler just called Cathy and put her on speaker.

Javi's mom left when he was a toddler, and his father traveled a lot for work. When Javi and his dad moved to Sapulpa, they became the Carter's closest neighbors. Rural neighbors, which means there's about a mile of the Carter's farmland in between their houses, but Javi and Kate met when Kathy dragged her over there to deliver a welcome pie.

Because Javi's dad traveled so much, Javi spent a ton of time over at Kate's house, to the point where Kate started calling the guest room, "Javi's room".

Javi's dad died unexpectedly a few weeks after Javi's 18th birthday. Cathy offered to let Javi move in with them, at least until he graduated high school, but Javi insisted on staying at his house, and his room at Kate's house went back to being the guest room. Of course, it didn't stay empty; there was almost always at least one Tornado Tamer that needed a place to crash and now, five years later, Cathy finds herself with a new group of kids (because they're all kids to her) crashing in her guest room and raiding her fridge.

Kate left town a few weeks after the funerals finished. She didn't go straight to New York but instead worked her way up the East Coast for about two years before she landed her meteorology job in New York 3 years before the start of the movie.

Javi drifted aimlessly for about six months before he served four years of active duty in (insert whatever military branch is the most likely to do whatever it was Javi was doing because I don't know how the military works) and is now an IRR for the next four years (I think this is how it works?). He got off active duty about six months before the events of the movie (based on his hair has somewhat grown out of military regulations at the start of the movie, but he still gives off military vibes).

Tyler and his team have been chasing unofficially for about six years, but it wasn't their full-time job until about two years ago, shortly after they brought Lily and her drone on-board.

They don't livestream every chase. Instead, they film for the majority of tornado season and try to get enough footage to be able to release weekly videos through the off-season, in addition to making more educational-type videos about tornadoes and what to do if one is coming for you, as well as showing behind the scenes kind of stuff, like what modifications they've made to the truck and stuff like that. The Wrangler's family dynamic is as much a draw for their audience as the tornadoes are and they know it.

Boone has absolutely stuck a Lego up his nose on a dare, and Dexter yelled at him the whole way to the ER when it got stuck.

Dexter thinks he's the only sane person on the team, but in reality, he gives off serious mad scientist energy when he gets going. He also thinks he's the Team Dad, but it's really Tyler. Dexter is the fun childless uncle that bought you toys your parents hated at Christmas and let you drive the ATV before you were old enough to.

[nottswitch]

cruel summer

alright, let me just quietly drop this off and crawl back into my hole of not writing for five more years maybe???

cruel summer by taylor swift as inspiration warning: probably slightly sexual stuff, swearing wc: 5,7k

You were never the type to go for such a relationship, but for some reason it… just happened. It was the dumbest explanation in the history of ever and you knew it, but every time you looked into your bathroom mirror at 6 a.m. on a Saturday, you somehow managed to convince yourself that it was totally normal. Totally normal to go running to find a random alleyway where he said his letter would be waiting this early in the morning on a weekend. Absolutely normal to cry your eyes out every time he left oh-so-suddenly because he remembered he had stuff to do and you were obviously not a part of it. Completely normal to run into him and his friends at a bar, see a girl flirting her heart out at him and pretend like it was fine, like it wasn’t a big fat needle stabbed right into your already bleeding heart. He always told you that he felt exactly the same, that he wished things were different, that you were the one on his arm on a night out, but nothing changed in the two months that you have spent together. Well, “together”. 

You met Sirius precisely on the 1st of June. Well, you met him years ago, actually, but it wasn’t the same, sure enough. At Hogwarts you weren’t really close, though you wished it to be different. He was the popular kid, so it wasn’t like it was easy to just go up to him and talk – for you, anyway. He had his own entourage, if you could call his three goofy friends that, and others weren’t usually a constant in their bunch. The guys weren’t mean per se, not to everyone around them at least, but you always viewed them as unapproachable. And of course you had a crush on Sirius. It was so cliché you had to laugh at your own silliness. A crush on the popular guy, wow, how original. But those were your feelings and you couldn’t just make them go away, you could only try to suppress them, which, you were sure, resulted in the current predicament you found yourself in.

So, you met Sirius precisely on the 1st of June. It happened on a busy street, and you just had to bump into someone you craved and hated to see so badly. He instantly recognized you, so you couldn’t play the “who are you?” game – it would be pretty pathetic to pretend you didn’t remember his very one-in-a-million face. As soon as your eyes met his, you felt like a schoolgirl again, like you didn’t graduate five years ago and just looked at him across the crowded hall in-between classes. He changed a lot, but also didn’t change in the slightest; his hair was definitely shorter and his beard longer, he looked more mature, but at the same time… That devilish grin of his that always lurked somewhere deep in his eyes and creases of his lips never went away. And it was probably the thing that completely destroyed your guard without you even being able to put it up. You spoke to him in a voice that existed somewhere outside of your consciousness, words were flowing out of your mouth like they were meant to, and soon you found yourself on his arm walking to some “sick muggle place” he wanted to show you. Ever since you haven’t visited any sick muggle places together, or sick wizard places for that matter. Your relationship – again, “relationship” – wasn’t something for the daylight of London, magical or not. It was something for secret hideouts, narrow alleyways, the darkness and the cool air of the night. Something for the stars to see, as Sirius liked to say. It was kinda romantic, you had to admit, but as time went by, you began to feel sorry for the sun – it had never been a witness of the beautiful thing that existed between the two of you. Yes, you never really defined what the “thing” was, but it was beautiful nevertheless! Or so you said, trying to persuade your crying eyes and crying heart.

This Saturday was all the same shit all over again. You got ready at 6 a.m. to meet Sirius… somewhere. You didn’t really know where yet, he always did this stupid thing where he told you where to go, and then you had to apparate from there. There always was some knick-knack waiting for you, like a hat that someone left on a bench or an obviously fake flower hiding among real ones in a flower bed. You were kinda amused at the lengths Sirius was ready to go to hide your rendezvous, but simultaneously you were hurt - the lengths he was ready to go! This time, the trinket of the day was an old torn up shoe hiding under a tree. You touched the thing, and boom, there you were, or, better to say, there he was – the effect his sudden emergence had on you was probably stronger than the other way round. He was always on top of his “looking cool” game, even more so, on top of the “hot and irresistibly sexy” game. He wore shirts and ripped jeans; leather jackets were also a frequent occurrence, along with the gloves – the fucker was always on his motorcycle and gloves went as a package deal. 

As soon as Sirius saw you, he stopped leaning on the fence he stood next to and went up to you, immediately scooping you up into his warm embrace. He smelled his usual self – leather, tobacco smoke and a slight hint of cinnamon, telling you he had already had his morning coffee. And sure enough, when he pressed his lips against yours, you felt the bitterness of a double-shot espresso, no sugar. You slightly winced because you weren’t a fan of him having a coffee when he knew in advance he would be kissing you. Your expression changed, however, when he leaned away and held up something in front of you – a cup of freshly brewed coffee, steam still floating above. 

“You knew I hated the coffee breath”.

You couldn’t help smiling, taking a sip of hot stuff and sucking in the air immediately afterwards – you burned the hell out of the tip of your tongue. The other hot stuff grinned, shrugging and crossing his arms on his chest.

“That’s why I got you the bribe. Can’t have you upset on such a nice day, can I?”

And that was the essence of him. Sirius could do basically anything and you would let it slide, he was that charmingly convincing. He clearly took note of this power a long time ago and oftentimes used it to his advantage. It wasn’t bad stuff, normally, because he wasn’t a total asshole and he had some level of care for you – or so you thought. Little things like coffee breath, cigarettes, a scratchy beard, they made him the person that he was and you wouldn’t want him any other way. No, actually, you would; you’d want him in any way, shape or form because it was him.

You slowly sipped your coffee, savouring the moment you didn’t want to end. Sadly, it still ended every time, no matter how hard you tried to stall for minutes and seconds. Sirius always told you that he would love to stay but you didn’t really believe him. If he wanted to, he would, right? You tried to keep to this principle and not make a big deal out of his simple, almost empty filler words to make it seem like he cared. After all, your situation was a situationship and nothing more.

“We’re having a party tomorrow.” Sirius’ words yanked you out of your temporary serenity.

“Okay? Have fun at the party.”

You didn’t really know why he would tell you this pretty mundane thing in the Marauders household. They had parties, like, every week, and for the most bizarre reasons – celebrating the beginning of summer, and separately the beginning of June, celebrating a whole working week without work, which meant they pissed around with no missions to go on and were basically on holiday. Sirius told you about some of them before they happened, sometimes after, sometimes during – yes, he literally had an owl sent to you during one of the parties because he was drunk and wanted to fuck. So when he told you about this week’s soiree, you just slightly raised your eyebrows and continued to stare into the distance. 

“I will, don’t you worry,” Sirius said with a smirk on his lips. “But I want you to have fun as well.”

Well, that was new. So new that a drop of coffee slipped somewhere in your throat where it shouldn’t have and you started coughing like a mad woman. In the process you turned to look at the absolute menace standing next to you and saw this shit-eating grin of his that showed complete satisfaction. He knew of the effect his words would have on you and he was totally going for the shock factor.

“Did you just say what I heard you saying?” you asked as soon as your throat’s condition went back to normal. 

“Well, what did I say?”

“Oh, come on. You’re doing this on purpose.” He had this way of making you feel embarrassed because now you started to doubt your own ears. Did he…?

“Did you just invite me to the party?”

“If that’s what you heard…” Sirius drawled the words like they were butter and sugar mixed together. “Nah, I’m just playing.” Seeing a very frustrated expression on your face, he took pity on you and confirmed your assumptions. “I did, in fact, just invite you to the party.”

You could but stare at him in disbelief. The topic of you going to parties was kind of taboo between the two of you, the initiative mainly coming from Sirius’ side. He didn’t want anyone knowing that he was seeing you, so obviously you couldn’t come there even as a friend – because god forbid he had a friend in you, right? You had to accept the fact and started freezing out any emotions when it came to his stupid parties. And now he was breaching the subject just like that, with a wide grin on his face and no care in the world.

“But why?” was all you could mutter at the moment.

“Well, I just thought you’d like that, you know. I always say our parties are fun but have nothing to show for it.”

Sirius sounded sincere. You didn’t know what to make of it yet, but at least he wasn’t planning to hurt you. He never was, but sometimes it just happened – like you just happened to end up in his bed on the 1st of June. 

“Why the change of heart?” And you actually wanted to know the answer to this question. It was so sudden and you couldn’t believe something fishy wasn’t going on. 

“Just because.” He shrugged and shook his head. “If you’re looking for a catch, there isn’t any.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, yes. Well, don’t tell anyone about, you know… this whole thing.” He pointed at you and then at himself a couple of times. “But it’s always been a condition, so, no catch.”

You silently stared through him for a minute or two. You were thinking hard about making the right decision and thankfully, he understood and gave you some space. Maybe you were making too big of a deal, making a mountain out of a molehill, if you will, but it was a big deal. You have never met Sirius’ friends in a more or less official setting other than, you know, studying together for seven years and vaguely hanging around them; you happened to bump into them a couple of times here and there, but it was nothing. At max, you exchanged some hellos and how-are-yous. It would be different this time though. You hoped it could be a step towards getting out of the shadows of starry nights and stolen passionate make-out sessions just to part seconds later. You weren’t sure at all.

“Alright. The party it is.” 

You were almost surprised at the words that so suddenly escaped your mouth. You really said that? Of course you did. You could tell by the glint in Sirius’ eyes that appeared only at those times when he got what he wanted and reveled in his success.

He didn’t reply though. In silence he walked up to you and placed his hand on your waist, pulling you closer. You felt his warmth enveloping you from head to toe and couldn’t think straight anymore. He did these things to you that you couldn’t describe with natural human words. The sounds around you were muffled by his soft voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear. They were nothings, but to you they meant the world. You were completely lost in him and forgot everything that could possibly bother you, including the party. At the moment, there were you and there was him.

—

You stood in front of the door, biting your lips in hesitation. Were you really about to do it? Were you about to knock on the door and face Sirius’ and his friends – and pretend like he hadn’t been fucking your brains out for two months?! It seemed impossible, and the thought of you and him being in the same vicinity so publicly made you want to vomit. You felt your stomach turn, actually. “But you wanted this,” you spelled out over and over, closing your eyes and making fireworks appear in your mind, trying to convince yourself that it was just excitement and not terrible unrest. You just couldn’t feel insecure: you looked good, you made sure of that; you smelled good, most importantly, it was Sirius’ favourite scent of yours. What could possibly go wrong? 

“Coming!” 

You heard a very familiar voice responding to your weak knock on the door. Seconds later it opened and you saw the face of the man who was responsible for you being here in the first place. Sirius pulled you into his arms and ran his fingers along your spine, sending shivers throughout your whole body. It felt almost forbidden to do it so close to the crowd of his friends, them literally being in the room next to you, but at the moment you couldn’t care less. Moved by a sudden impulse, you put your hand on the back of his head and pushed his face closer to yours, crushing your lips together. You could feel Sirius was surprised by your actions but at the same time he was genuinely pleased because it was usually him who took initiative. The two of you stood there for what felt like ages, just enjoying each other’s presence, but really only a couple minutes had passed. Your bliss was interrupted by another man’s voice coming from the inside of the house.

“Pads, where are you?! Did Voldemort come back and you had to kill him real quick?!!”

It was certainly James, you could tell by the way he sounded – always somewhat carefree and cheerful, always in high spirits and completely unbothered. Sirius swiftly pulled away, adjusting the collar of his shirt and running his hand through his hair in an attempt to make it look untouched. Another young man appeared from behind, beaming at you with a friendly smile.

“Y/N, right?”

James approached you in a rapid fashion and gave you a good old one-arm hug – a nice greeting for someone who was, for now, just an acquaintance. You noticed two things at the same time that made the only butterfly in your stomach flutter its wings: first of all, you were clearly welcome in the household, and secondly… You couldn’t help spotting a hint of jealousy in Sirius’ face. There was something about his tense expression that he tried to cover up with a smile too big for the situation.

“Yes, and I certainly remember that you’re James.”

“Oh yeah. It’s harder not to remember me than to do it, you know? Now come on, you came to have fun, after all!”

You chuckled and followed James deeper into the house. Sirius stayed behind for just a second to lock the door but he caught up to you pretty quickly. You felt his hand on yours and turned your head to give him a surprised look. It was definitely too much affection for his own imaginary boundaries around your behaviour in his friend circle. He looked down, as if he suddenly felt disappointed, let go of your hand and skipped forward to walk next to James. You decided to put this to the back of your mind for the night, but it was certainly something to unpack later.

The living room was truly living. A quick scan of faces surrounding you made it clear that you didn’t know a lot of them. Some you recognized from Hogwarts, but the majority of them were as new as the whole atmosphere you found yourself in. Obviously, Sirius never cared to give you any information about people close to him or even people he talked to other than The Crew, so you felt rather uneasy dissolving into a crowd of strangers. James steadily walked you to the other side of the room, where you could finally make out a few familiar faces. Lily was sitting in front of the fireplace, her red hair blending in with the flames; Remus occupied an armchair to her right, looking happy and relaxed with a bottle of butterbeer in his hand; he was chatting to Marlene, who sat on the couch with her legs crossed, laughing at something Remus said. You felt the tension leaving your stiff neck – the company seemed pretty chill and you could definitely see yourself getting along with them like a house on fire. 

“Hey guys, this is…”

“This is Y/N.” Sirius interrupted James’ attempt to introduce you to the group. He had a grin on his face but something was hiding behind the seemingly nonchalant tone of his voice. Like his lighthearted exterior was just a disguise for something… something. You truly couldn’t discern his motives at the moment. 

You awkwardly waved at the people staring at you, for a few seconds feeling like a zoo animal in a cage. But as soon as the girls smiled at you and Marlene scooted over to make space for you on the couch, you truly relaxed. Sirius plopped down next to you and you inadvertently thought that it would be magical if he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and you had a right to rest your head on his chest. 

“Hi, Y/N!” Lily’s voice was full of genuine excitement. “We have a-a-all been waiting to meet you, but this fella,” she pointed at Sirius and looked at him like a prosecutor looked at an accused in court, “he never invited you anywhere with us!”

“Oh really?” 

You raised your eyebrows in disbelief that you failed to conceal. When you looked at Sirius, his eyes were closed and his head slightly shaking, like he wasn’t going to retort in any way. The fucker was laughing under his breath as well! And apparently, he did it all the time when they talked about you, because no one even tried to question his antics. 

“Well, now I’m here. Ta-da-a-a!”

You threw up your hands and heard some chuckles from the group. It made a smile appear on your lips because their laughter meant you had their approval. Thankfully, they didn’t ask anything about you and Sirius anymore and instead started quizzing you about your life after Hogwarts and all that jazz. You were relieved and even Sirius’ weird behaviour made an escape from your mind for a while. At some point the boys left to go outside and “clear their minds” – in reality, they obviously went out for a smoke; as they said, out of respect for the ladies. 

“You’re really cool, Y/N.” The phrase was delivered by Marlene in a kind of childish manner, but it brought you lots of joy nevertheless. “You know, we were really… shocked, you could say, when Sirius didn’t bring you here as a girlfriend today.”

You choked on literal air when you heard this confession of Marlene.

“Uh… Why?” was all you could make up in response.

“Well, we, y’know, made a bet, kind of…” Marlene started to sound more and more absently as she spoke. She suddenly understood that she said something she shouldn’t have but it was too late to take it back. “Lily?” She looked at her friend with really upset eyes, searching for support.

“Yeah… Listen, Y/N, it’s nothing bad, I promise,” Lily continued after Marlene, who seemed to have a huge weight taken off her shoulders. You frowned, because usually “nothing bad” was, in fact, something bad when it came to Sirius and his shenanigans. “It’s just, you know, that Sirius kinda had a crush on you back at school, but you never really talked and then after graduation you went your separate ways.”

That much was true, but Sirius having a crush on you became a huge shock for you. Of course he had never mentioned it, why would he? It’s not like it was important fucking stuff.

“And then he met you two months ago and we were all so excited!” Lily continued, noticing your lack of response. “We really thought there was something between you two and you could finally explore that. So we made a bet that it would take you two months to start dating.”

“Two months?” You felt silly focusing on such a small thing, but you needed something to hold on to in order not to lose your sanity.

“That’s how long it took him to forget you after school, so we thought it was symbolic, kinda… It’s a whole thing.” Marlene picked up Lily’s explanation to unburden her friend – they were letting you in on top-secret information, it seemed. “We didn’t believe him when he told us you two were just friends and didn’t even talk much. But now it turns out he was right and all of us feel kinda stupid.” Marlene rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have known, but it’s void at this point anyway.”

You were silent throughout the whole speech and remained so after it was finished. What could you even say? You could dump everything on the girls right now, tell them about every single encounter you had with Sirius during the last two months, the 1st of June included, but what would you actually accomplish? They would probably think you’re a lunatic and banish you from the house immediately. Sirius was their close friend, after all, and you were just a rando they used to see at school sometimes. No, there were no reasons to tell them anything. The only person who had to have something to show for his shit was Sirius.

“I need to have a breath of something fresh, preferably air,” you explained, standing up quite abruptly and feeling your head getting a little dizzy. 

“Oh, did we upset you?” Lily seemed genuinely concerned.

“No, no, don’t worry,” you reassured both of the girls even though they did, in fact, upset you, albeit unintentionally. “It’s just stuffy here. I’ll be back soon.”

You were actually headed outside, but for a different reason. You decided to have a talk with Sirius, even if it ended up ruining your relationship. Was there anything to really ruin, though? Now you knew that he could easily play with your feelings if it meant winning a stupid bet with his friends. And this whole thing about him liking you at school…  You felt like passing out. Your knees would have given up and let you fall down on the floor, making an absolute fool of yourself, if you didn’t hear voices getting closer and closer to you. A moment later the boys emerged from behind the wall. Sirius noticed you as soon as he walked in and somehow, you saw it in his eyes that really were a mirror of his mind sometimes, he knew that you knew. He stopped at once, letting the others continue on their way without him.

“I’ll just have a quick word with Y/N,” he shouted after them, and James just nodded, still immersed in the conversation. Apparently, the latest Quidditch game was the most important thing in the world right then and there. Not for long, you thought, imagining the talk in the living room that Lily and Marlene were about to have with the group. You glanced at Sirius, who stood there looking at the wall and avoiding your prying eyes as hard as he could. Without saying a word you headed towards the front door, afraid that you could fly off the handle right then and there, and everybody would hear you being absolutely pathetic. 

The air of the night was noticeably cooler than when you came. You breathed in with your whole chest. breathing out slowly with your mouth. At the moment, it was important to compose yourself and… What were you actually planning to do? You couldn’t decide yet. The logical thing to do would probably be to break up, right? Well, “break up”, you weren’t dating or anything. But – and you hated yourself for it – you just couldn’t imagine never seeing Sirius again for the rest of your life. During the two months of your arrangement he became an ever-encompassing presence in your day-to-day – or, more accurately, night-to-night. You couldn’t imagine not feeling his gentle but sturdy hands touching you all over, couldn’t imagine not being able to run your fingers through his hair, not seeing that mischievous spark in his eyes, that devilish grin… His essence, simply put, was eating you up from the inside and made you some kind of an addict, as much as you were afraid to admit it. So you weren’t exactly sure he wouldn’t be able to persuade you to do whatever he wanted and you wouldn’t even mind. But you did plan on putting up at least some sort of a fight.

“So?” You heard Sirius’ was from behind and realized he had been standing there all this time, patiently waiting for you to begin.

“So? Well, that’s bold,” you replied, turning to face him. It was, very likely, a huge mistake – you would certainly have more success in leading the fight if you didn��t have to look into his eyes. You blinked as if to erase their image from your mind. Didn’t help.

“What do you want me to say?”

And there it was. Such a Sirius classic. What do you want me to say, you’re overreacting, what more do you want from me, I don’t like all this drama, yada-yada-yada… These sneaky little tactics always drove you insane. He wasn’t ever ready to admit his fault. He always managed to calm you down with a kiss (and something else afterwards) and all your grievances were left unsolved. You couldn’t do it this time, though.

“You know exactly what, Sirius, stop with your nonsense right now.” You tried to sound stern and it seemed like you succeeded, seeing as Sirius looked a bit defeated. 

“So… you do know?”

“What do you think?” It was time to start playing his games by your rules… kinda. You were still to master the “manipulation without regret” bit because you, unlike him, were still able to feel remorse.

“Look, it’s not what you think it is.”

Here we go, you thought, having another deep breath of fresh air sucked into your lungs. He just couldn’t stop being himself, could he?

“No, no, we’re not doing this right now, Sirius.”

“Then what are we doing?”

“STOP!!!”

Even you were surprised to hear your voice coming out of your mouth at this volume. Sirius flinched, visibly surprised and even… scared? It was hard to discern his exact emotions but they weren’t the usual smug ones. 

“I’m tired of all this, Sirius. I’ll wait for thirty seconds and if I don’t hear an explanation, I’m leaving. The clock starts now.”

You tensed up inside and out. You were afraid he would just take you up on your offer, turn around and be the first to leave, you know, just to outperform you one last time. You could barely hold an audible sigh when he threw his head back, closed his eyes, swallowed hard and started talking.

“I’m sorry.”

Nice start. It was a first from him.

“What about?”

“About me being an asshole.”

He didn’t even deny it. You felt a teeny tiny bit validated. 

“And that’s an understatement. You…” You had a plan to go on a rant but Sirius had this look on his face that you just closed your mouth shut and continued staring at him, waiting for his response.

“Could you please let me finish? I know I never let you so you don’t have to give me the courtesy, but please?”

You nodded, signaling the “go ahead”. His way of talking to you was very different from his usual self and you didn’t know how to process this change yet.

“This bet was dumb. Really, really fucking stupid. And I didn’t want to lose. You know me.” His chuckle had a bitter tinge to it. “I really thought you didn’t mind this whole… thing we had. I was clearly wrong, and I feel like an idiot.”

“You made me look like one in front of your friends, that’s for sure.” You couldn’t help interrupting him there, making an imperative decision not to let him make this about himself. “Can you even imagine how utterly humiliating it is to sit there and have people know something about you that you don’t? And to then pretend like it’s fine and that you knew all along?!”

You felt tears in the corners of your eyes but weren’t even trying to hide them. You felt you deserved to have all your emotions burst at once.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius mumbled in response, still avoiding your gaze. “I was selfish. I thought you wouldn’t know. It’s a shitty excuse, I’m aware. I shouldn’t have put you through this in the first place.”

“Oh really? Well, you certainly did.”

You heard yourself sobbing. At last, the tears won over you and pretty much gained autonomy from your consciousness. Sirius must have noticed it too, because he finally looked at you and, seeing your distress, decided to do what he knew best. Seconds later you were drowning in his warmth, which felt so dangerous yet so comforting at the same time. You didn’t want to succumb to the enemy, but your body felt differently, relaxing as soon as you felt his arms around you and his warm breath on the top of your head. He did smell of tobacco pretty strongly, but you could let it slide once more. You heard his slightly hoarse voice repeating I’m-sorrys again and again, his hand caressing you everywhere from your hair to the small of your back. 

“I love you so fucking much.”

You could almost see these words looming through the fog that took over your brain. Sirius’ voice sounded so distant yet it felt like he spoke directly into your heart. Maybe you even imagined it, you thought, to bring yourself some comfort. 

“I love you. I will say it over and over if I need to, you hear me?”

No, you definitely didn’t imagine it.

“What?”

You raised your head to look at Sirius through a thick layer of salty water still clouding your eyes. His forehead was wrinkled in a frown but the corners of his lips went up ever so slightly when he heard your voice.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I owed you this from the very beginning, but I was a jerk. You deserve to hear it every day. If you let me, I will make sure of that.”

Somehow, his words felt right. The sensible part of you wanted to object, wanted to pull away from him, run and never go back. This part was muffled by a stupid, futile tidal wave of emotions knocking you down and carrying you into the depths of this neverending ocean called “being head over heels in love with Sirius Black”. 

“Fuck you,” you mumbled, looking into his hopeful yet shameless eyes. “I love you too.”

These words of yours were taken as permission. This time him kissing you felt different. It was more… satisfying, you could say. You were still completely enthralled, but it didn’t burn you from the inside like you had been sipping on toxic waste, on the contrary, you felt alive, as if someone poured fresh water all over you and then wrapped you in a cozy blanket. It finally validated every single feeling you had since the 1st of June. It seemed like a logical resolution to this chapter of your life. Except it wasn’t. 

“Now you have to clean up the mess, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to tell everybody!”

Sirius rolled his eyes but nodded. He understood that this task was solely on him.

“Aren’t you afraid?” you teased him while you walked back to the house. “You lost the bet, after all.”

“Having you by my side wherever we go? Losing a bet is a small price to pay.”

The two of you walked into the living room and headed straight to the crew still occupying the VIP lounge next to the fireplace. Everyone looked at you with varying degrees of worry in their eyes because of course they were aware that you knew. Sirius sat down on the couch and you did the same, but this time he did wrap his arm around your shoulders. 

“Well, well, well…” James sounded surprised yet satisfied at the same time. “What’s all this about?” 

Sirius cleared his throat in preparation for the big speech.

“Alright, I’m just gonna say it and then explain. Guys, meet Y/N, my girlfriend.”

You finally had a right to rest your head on his chest.

my masterlist

[syoish-aot]

"I Found You" - Reader/Eren reverse isekai - PART 3

word count: 1022, still rated T [updated June 27]

<- PART 2 | PART 4 ->

*********

“Eren’s acting weird today.” You tell Jean, an hour later and shortly after arriving at the restaurant. It was the soft opening of Niccolo’s bar, and he’d invited all of his friends to try out the menu and get day drunk.

To all of your friends, it seemed like the perfect way to spend a Saturday.

The bar was right in the middle of downtown, split into two levels with a more fancy dining area and a patio upstairs, and the casual bar in the lower level. Niccolo had been working for years to open it, and everyone was beyond excited that his dream had finally come true.

You wished you were more in the mood to celebrate. Unfortunately, all you could do was run your weird morning through your head as you thought about Eren.

About how he was being so… well--....

“He’s always weird.” Jean dismisses your comment with the casual wave of his hand as he takes another sip of his beer from where you’re both standing, leaning against the bar as you look out at the restaurant.

“I’m being serious.” You reply.

“So am I.” Jean shrugs.

When you don’t reply to the obvious ribbing from your friend (something that would normally get you caught up in at least five minutes of back-and-forth banter), he looks over at you. Jean clears his throat. “What happened?” He asks.

“I think he had another nightmare that really fucked him up he-” you sigh, “he totally forgot about today and the whole drive here he was just staring out the window, not saying a single thing. He’s been raving about the restaurant opening for months and now it’s like he completely forgot it was even happening. It’s just-... It’s reminding me of third year, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

You begin fiddling with the sleeve of your dress. “Remember that morning he had just... disappeared.”

It was back when most of your friend group was still in university. Back then, Eren and Armin were sharing a dorm and one night Eren vanished. All day, no one knew where he was. He’d left his phone, keys, and wallet at home and hadn’t told anyone he was going somewhere. He’d missed class, practice, and the plans the two of you had made to meet up for lunch.

You were ready to put in a missing persons report when that evening he just-… came back.

Around 7pm, he walked back into his dorm acting completely normally. He said he needed some time away from everyone and think about something, but as he said it he had this look in his eyes. A look that… you weren’t sure what to make of.

The same look he’d had only a few hours ago; after he released you from where he’d pinned you to your bed.

“Yeah...” Jean agreed as he swirled his drink in his glass and stared down at it in deep concentration.

“It’s just reminding me of that.” You say. “All morning he was so stiff and awkward. He said it was just a bad dream messing with his head but he-... he didn’t know who I was, Jean. He knew who Armin was though. And you. Sasha, Connie, Reiner, Annie, Mikasa, Marco, Ymir- literally everyone but me and I-”

Then Jean starts choking on his drink.

“Jean!” You exclaim as you move the drink from his hold and place it on the bar, patting his back with your other hand.

“It’s-” he manages before another cough, “It’s nothing!” Jean coughs again. “b-bye” He status as he pushes away from the bar, still trying to clear his throat. “Armin-”

You’re left there, alone at the table with only Jean’s beer for company. Completely confused as you watch him push through your group of friends in search of Armin.

You’re somehow left even more confused than ever.

And as you glance across the restaurant, Eren is nowhere to be seen.

***

Armin looked different than he had before.

Sure, he still had the same blonde hair and wide blue eyes; but the way he was looking at Eren reminded him of the little boy in Shiganshina, wishfully rattling off facts about the outside world.

There was life to him, Eren realized in an instant.

There was life.

“Eren,” Armin laughed. “You really are spacey today.”

“Sorry…” Eren mumbled, unable to look away from his best friend as he recalled the last time he’d seen him: when they’d sat together in a pool of blood and Armin had held him tightly, crying about how they were both irredeemable monsters.

“What’s that look for?” Armin asked him with another laugh.

“You’re… You’re here.” Is all Eren can manage to say. 

“Oh no.” Armin sighs. “Did you already get to the champagne? It’s barely even two in the afternoo-”

“Where’s Mikasa?” Eren suddenly asks. He hadn’t seen her yet.

He had seen plenty of other people he knew, which made him do a double take as he entered the restaurant and everyone greeted him like nothing was wrong.

Like hadn’t recently killed 80% of humanity and led to the deaths of plenty of the people in the large restaurant.

Like he was meant to just be here and some-... some party or something.

Honestly Eren wasn’t sure what the event was; but that wasn’t important, what was important was finding Mikasa. 

“Eren are you feeling alright?” Armin asks, pulling Eren out of his thoughts.

“Where are we, Armin?” He asks bluntly.

“Um… fourth and center street?”

“No. I mean-...” Eren looks away from the restaurant and back at Armin. He has to know what’s going on, right? “We said we’d-... you and I promised. We promised we’d meet in hell. Is that where we are? Are we... Armin, are we in hell?”

Armin’s eyes widened as the playful twinkle of life that had been in them before completely vanished. “Eren you-”

“Armin!” Suddenly Jean was at their sides, he grabbed Armin by the shoulders and shook him. “It’s Eren he’s- he’s-”

Armin finished the sentence for him as both of their eyes fell to their friend:

“Eren’s awake.”

[ninzied]

forever and

a firstprince new year ficlet. ~1k.

Alex loses him again, ten minutes till midnight.

The party has been, as Pez put it, positively smashing—hard to top last year’s but I had the utmost faith in dear Alex, well done.

Alex hasn’t been paying attention, because outside of the circle formed by Henry’s arms on his shoulders and Alex’s hands on the dip of his waist, he hasn’t really needed to know.

Now, he takes it all in, the dancing snapshots of bodies beneath the strobe lights, the bass thumping so thickly he can feel it in his sternum, and he registers none of it because none of it matters when he doesn’t know where the hell Henry’s gone.

“Have you seen my boyfriend?” he demands of no fewer than five people—Nora, Pez and June count as one—but nobody knows, or nobody knows what he’s even asking because most of them just grin and bob their heads even more energetically than before.

He hasn’t texted. He’s not in the bathroom, and he’s not at the bar—Alex has checked both places twice. He’s starting to feel panicked in a way that he hasn’t in a long time, worried that he’s done something wrong, that he’s hurt Henry in some way again without knowing.

The not knowing is the worst part. Not that he’d ever hurt Henry on purpose, but that he could still do it now and not even realize is so unbearable he might just throw up.

The thing is that Henry had looked happy. And Alex had teased him mercilessly for it (“It doesn’t feel like His Royal Highness hates New Year’s,” murmured into Henry’s ear as Alex pressed their lower bodies together), which Henry had flushed over while also setting his jaw and pulling Alex firmly in for a kiss, probably at least in part to shut him up already.

Alex thinks back to just moments ago, before he’d somehow lost track of Henry. There’d been champagne, which they’d forgotten somewhere in favor of dancing with Bea, a conversation with some TV actor Alex only vaguely recognized and couldn’t find a polite way to get rid of, and then…then what? He’d turned around and Henry had vanished.

He doesn’t fully mean to, but he ends up retracing his steps all the way back to this time last year.

The snow is not as densely packed underfoot as he shivers his way into the garden. A year ago now, he’d followed the same path to Henry, gazed at him beneath the linden tree, and felt so many things he didn’t know how to name or make sense of until Henry kissed him and made the world go blessedly still.

If Henry is there, he decides now, determination doubling his pace, he’s going to grab his beautiful face with both hands and kiss him like 1. there’s no tomorrow, and also like 2. there’s only tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, ahead.

Henry isn’t there.

Alex’s footprints are the only trail left in the snow, glistening in technicolor as the fireworks start up overhead, and fuck, fuck, he’s missed the whole countdown.

He’s missed it with Henry. Kissing him at midnight like they were meant to this year, without the uncertainty and miserable months of radio silence that followed. This was supposed to be a new beginning for them; he had plans, okay, and it’s—well, it’s kind of their anniversary in a way, and now he won’t remember it the way that he wanted to, he—

“Alex!”

He turns, and the man that Alex can only think about in terms of forever now is jogging toward him, all flushed from the cold but smiling.

“There you are,” says Henry, a little short of breath as he comes to a stop and reaches for Alex’s hand. His touch sends a shock of warmth through what feels like Alex’s whole being. Suddenly, Alex can breathe again. “You’re freezing, love. Come here.”

Alex opens his mouth to protest, because as relieved as he is that Henry is here and acting as though all is well, he’s also kind of mad about it.

But yeah, he’s pretty cold too, so he steps willingly into Henry’s arms, and—well, there’s no other place he’d rather be mad about not being ten minutes sooner.

And then Henry leans in, and kisses him so sweetly that Alex is really not mad at all anymore.

“Next year,” says Henry, a little entreatingly, “maybe consider not inviting Hunter if you can help it? He just trapped me at coat check for what felt like ages. I barely made it out with my life.”

Alex never lets a good opportunity to pick on Hunter go to waste, but he decides to let this one slide. “Why were you at coat check?” he wants to know.

“I needed to get something,” says Henry, like it’s obvious.

“But—you don’t have your coat,” says Alex, like it’s not obvious at all.

“You don’t miss a thing,” Henry murmurs, all warmth and affection as he pulls Alex close. Something round and hard presses against Alex’s thigh, and oh. He would know that shape anywhere, because it matches the box inside his own jacket. “Guess again.”

“Baby,” says Alex, and if his voice cracks a little because he’s smiling so hard, well, what about it? “Is that a rock in your pocket, or do you really, really not hate New Year’s?”

“I just really, really love you,” counters Henry. “Happy anniversary, darling,” and he kisses Alex, just a few perfect minutes past midnight, under the linden tree, under the stars, both of them thinking of only forever.

[vilnmelling]

do you have any more richie tidbits :D

Trust me, I have a LOT to say about Richard Lipschitz. As he's my current hyperfixation character, I have made it my mission to find out everything there is to know about him, and of course also to make as many headcanons as possible about him. Now LET'S GO, ALL SORTS OF RICHIE STUFF!

Canon/half canon facts and trivia (AKA things said/done either in NPMD, in track commentaries or in streams)

As he says a couple of times in NPMD, he has overactive sweat glands, meaning he sweats more than the average person, and that he doesn't smell very good.

He also has asthma, as Bury the Bully confirms.

Shapiro asks the nerds if they're sure they didn't see Richie in their AP calculus class, so we can assume Richie's good at math.

Richie's quite skilled with a camera, and he knows how to photoshop (whether or not he's good at it is up for debate *glances at Ruth's playbill headshot*).

His favorite anime is Attack on Titan.

He would absolutely dye his hair blue.

He cosplays, and if he could afford to, he would make ELABORATE cosplays.

Richie's bedroom: his walls are absolutely decked out in anime posters, he has tons and tons of plushes, and he has a glass case of Funko Pops. Then he also has his anime love pillows, of course.

He did some Twitch streaming in 2020.

Once, he tried to organize a Pokemon Go meet-up, but no one showed up.

He's not as brave as he would like to be.

He doesn't seem to be a big fan of parties.

Out of the nerds, he was the one who felt the worst about what they did to Max.

My personal observations and headcanons

Richie's a shorts guy, all year around. He only has one or two pairs of long pants in his closet. It doesn't matter how cold it gets during the winter; he still wears shorts. He would've worn shorts to Homecoming. He'd be one questionable decision away from wearing shorts at his own wedding.

He and Trevor are identical twins, and Trevor is eleven minutes older. Even though Trevor's barely interested in anime and Richie's hardly at all interested in musicals, they watch them together. It's a weekly thing that they sit down in the living room, argue for five minutes about whether to watch an anime or a musical ("We watched Newsies last time." "Bullshit, that was like a month ago, we've watched anime the last two times at least!" "And what pray tell may those animes be, Trevor?"), then settle on one but talk over it the entire time. One of them always gets annoyed at the other for not keeping up with the storyline, but if you think they're gonna stop talking over them, you're wrong.

Daniel's their younger brother by five years. Neither of them know about Daniel's abilities nor about the fact that he's part of a magical fighting ring. (Their uncle, Gary, takes Daniel in secret, and they've told the rest of the family that Gary's taking Daniel to some sports practice. Trevor and Richie have ongoing bets about where Daniel keeps getting loads and loads of money from, and they constantly make deals with him to earn some money for themselves (doing Daniel's chores, watching stupid superhero movies with him, etc..))

His full name is Richard Jonathan _____ Lipschitz. Jonathan as a middle name is a family name for all the men in the Matthews-Goldstein-Lipschitz-McNeil family, and then they all have their own second middle name.

Trevor and Richie's birthday is somewhere in June. Richie was just so fucking clearly born in June.

When they were kids (8-12), they would make shitty movies and movie trailers on iMovie on their iPad. Most often, Richie would film and Trevor would play all the roles. Sometimes they'd involve Daniel and their cousins from their father's side of the family, then they'd force all the adults to watch their movies. Their greatest hit films include 'The Children in the Drawers', 'The Green Plant', 'The Murderer in the Barn' and 'The Boy Who Went to the Bathroom and Disappeared' (definitely not named after the shitty iMovie trailers and movies my sister, cousins and I made when we were kids).

Richie and Ruth met for the first time on a playground the summer before their first year of school. They played together for an hour or two before Ruth had to go home, and parted as typical six-year-old strangers who played pirates on a playground once. When they started school a month and a half later, they ended up in the same class, and they immediately recognized each other, and since then they've been besties. (Ruth met Pete at tap class, and that was how Pete completed the trio).

Based on a whole fuck ton of things in both the proshot and the digital ticket, I have no choice but to think Richie's down bad for Ruth, and that she's equally whipped. Richie's 110% oblivious to how he's feeling. He's not in denial or anything, he just has no idea. I'm talking, "Seeing her smile makes my stomach do cartwheels, but that doesn't mean anything." "That dress she wore once made me speechless, but that's just because she's such a good friend." "Yes, I could imagine myself kissing her, but that doesn't have to mean anything." He gives her an almost Paul-level heart-eyes look, she's fucking constantly looking at him, he fully checks her out in the digital ticket (involving nodding and hand gestures), she giggles at every lame joke he makes like it's the funniest thing she's heard, how angry he is that Pete wouldn't want to be with her, she beelines for him after "arguing" with Steph, he hypes her up when Max compliments her skeleton bit, and they're pretty much incapable of standing more than three millimeters away from each other. I mean, come on.

Analyses are on the way!

I've spent a lot of my time delving into story analysis, and I'm about to make an analysis video focusing mainly on Max and Richie (Richie's death, in particular). The script is done, I just have to film and edit it, but then it'll be up on Youtube!

Another analysis video idea I have is to make a video purely dedicated to breaking down each of the main characters and unearthing their internal conflicts, goals, desires, fears and misbeliefs. I've already got a pretty good idea of Richie's motivations and fears, so I'm quite excited about this one...

And there ya go, a bunch of Richie stuff!

[roguekhajiit]

TW: Transphobia

I had my first ever encounter with a transphobic member of the LGBTQ community this week.

At work on Monday, I overheard some co-workers discussing Transgender Day of Visibility and how President Biden issued a statement acknowledging Trans Day. Since it just so happened to occur on the same day as Easter this year, my very close-minded co-workers took that and Biden's statement as evidence that Trans people are trying to take over Easter!

Now, I consider myself to be Non-binary (specifically Demi-girl/Agender), but I tend to fly under the radar, which is very helpful since I live in a very, very red state. It doesn't hurt that my normal sense of personal style is very casual and all black. So, I can wear traditionally "men's" pants, and no one pays much attention to me, which is the way I prefer it. I hate anything that draws attention to myself.

So, I bit my tongue and hyperfocused on my work. Then, when I went home, the non-binary gremlin in me just couldn't be contained anymore; I opened Reddit and made a post about how no one is going around trying to steal stolen holidays.

Now, I was fully anticipating pissed off Christians to rain their uninhibited fake outrage down onto the comment section (which happened) but I wasn't anticipating a self-identified 60 yr old gay man to come into my comments saying things like, "Why would you put a Trans holiday anywhere near a religious holiday knowing every seven years it's gonna land on said holiday" and "As a gay man I believe that the one part of our community is stifling the rest of us."

Tell me you're transphobic without telling me you're transphobic.

Now, since I can't just ignore the sheer inaccuracy of his math; according to Google from 2001 to 2100, Easter will only land on March 31st 5 times. Five times in an entire century. The last time Easter was on March 31st, it was 2013. So, 11 years ago, or over a decade ago. No one gave a shit in 2013 that Easter and Trans Day were on the same day. But let the president acknowledge it in a statement and everyone loses their fucking minds.

So, why would you avoid celebrating something important in your life on the off chance that it might coincide with someone's religious holiday? Of course, you wouldn't. If your birthday is on Christmas, do you no longer have a birthday?

"Next, why wouldn't you place it in the month of pride then each day of pride month could have a different day celebrating each letter of the lbgtq+ community."

Yes, that is what Pride Month is for, celebrating the diversity of the LGBTQ+ community. But are you gay only in June?

But sadly, even some in our diverse community isolate and vilify trans individuals just like what this old gay dinosaur is doing. For 15 years, a vast majority didn't know or even give a shit that Trans Day existed. That is until a president acknowledged it.

"May I point out there's no gay holidays that coincide with Yom kipper or Ramadan."

True, Yom Kippur and Ramadan don't coincide with any "gay holidays," but Shavout is directly in the middle of Pride Month. Any outrage there?

"So just piss off the Christian's so they have one more thing to hate us for. I find many in our community asking for acceptance while giving none, just my opinion and nothing more."

How very accepting of you to say, my lord.

"Maybe it's time we all in the gay community and cis people give the whole year to the Trans community."

But they aren't asking for the year, or even a month. They just want one day that is their own. And even members of our own LGBTQ+ community can't even give them that.

"I'm gay so I can't be transphobic."

Your statements say otherwise. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you are absolved of your transphobia.

Perhaps it's time we stop placating these dusty ass old gay dinosaurs and call them out on their hateful thinking. Their "I got mine" attitude only harms our communities. Just because you won the fight for same sex marriage doesn't mean you're safe. The fight for equality is never-ending.

More and more of us are having our rights stripped away right before our very eyes. Roe v. Wade has already been overturned, and they aren't going to stop there. They never planned to stop there. They are very methodically chipping away at our rights. Right now, they are focusing their efforts on the trans community, slowly outlawing their very existence. And while they have you distracted by that, they are quietly overturning same sex marriage laws. Your rights aren't safe and never will be safe as long as we have members in our communities who subscribe to this kind of thinking.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

A Little Farewell

With about a week left to go we had our final OT4 weverse live today and it's safe to say, we were not prepared. But I'm very grateful that they did a live all together giving us a last dose of chaos, cuteness and giggles before we'll be left to fend for ourselves for 6 months before Jin returns to us in June 2024.

The live truly was a beautiful gift that kept on giving starting with Tae's new short haircut and JK hiding his now shaved head from us, Namjoon even claiming that JKs hair is shorter than his own (JK supposedly felt inspired to shave his head a little early after he met Usher, who has pretty short hair himself, and went for it), and Jimin practically getting offended by a comment saying they wanted to see him with a buzzcut. To be honest Tae's cute little haircut looks a little like he did it himself in the dead of the night but it also makes him look like we traveled back in time to 2013 or earlier. Adorable. After so long it was really nice to see them together again, and to generally have more than one Tannie in a live together.

Since the first leaks about their military service appeared a few days ago we've seen vminies talk among themselves, and not to mention the near constant fighting that's been going on between the two xkook camps, but seeing vmin being so cute together in this live, it felt reassuring. Whatever questions or worries we might've had, they were washed away. In a way it makes sense that Tae and Jimin didn't go together, even if we all would've loved to see them go together and make use of the buddy system, but that isn't the choice they made for themselves and that's okay. It's easy to see what vmin are doing more than just fine and that's all that matters. Admin 2 really hoped we'd get a vmin handshake or hand holding, and we got two! I mean, look at all this cuteness:

And then also Tae going home in five minutes flat and doing a small solo live which was basically just him being adorable and talking to Jimin, who was immediately in the comments, before leaving again. Love when we get to third wheel them, wow, I truly will miss that a lot.

At one point in the live JK mentioned that he'd wanted to go to the special forces as well, implying that for some reason he couldn't, which makes me wonder why. Was it because of his tattoos? Either way, it's nice that he'll instead get to go with Jimin and supposedly they'll be in the training camp where Seokjin is one of the trainers so that's cute.

Speaking of Seokjin, after so long it was adorable how often Namjoon brought up Seokjin in this live. Just Jin hyung this and Jin hyung that, very cute. And they also mentioned Hobi a bunch, how he's gotten cooler and more manly, which comes as a great reminder to basically all of us that the cute boys we've known until now, well, they'll probably fade away and get replaced by more mature versions of our beloved members in the next months and they'll return to us as a different set of Tannies. And that's okay. They're grown up men so it makes sense that eventually some of that aegyo cuteness will fade away and personally I'm very curious to see how things will turn out and what they'll be like in 2025.

And I'm very curious to see if idiots will respect Namjoon's and Tae's pleas for people not to show up for their entrance ceremonies. Especially since Namjoon asked for it in three languages to make sure everyone understood it. Unfortunately I have my doubts, since we know the maknae line have some of the most unhinged solos but here's hoping.

Now, what does this mean for us now? Well, it'll be quite a while until we'll see the members slowly returning one after the other so we'd like to take this time for a 'official' hiatus as well. Admin 2 is considering a temporary "rebrand" into a BL blog since they've gotten into Thai BLs in the last year, so that's something that might happen. Would any of you be interested in something like that?

But we'll still be ARMY, still love vmin and namjin, and once the guys will return, so will we, so don't worry, we're not leaving BTS any time soon.

Lastly, here's a blurry screenshot of a coconut headed JK running across the screen screaming THIS WAS BTS. A beautifully chaotic ending to this solo era. Let's see what the next months will bring us and what 2025 will be like when chapter 2 will come to a close and a new chapter of BTS and ARMY will open, eventually.

Thank you so much for reading!

[clarkes-and-god]

"Mom, you have to promise that you're not going to tell anyone I told you this, but Farris's dad just called us and we think Natan's got Vivian pregnant at my wedding! Can you believe it?"

"What? That hypocritical so-and-so! All the things she's said to me and you, and now her son goes and gets a girl he doesn't know pregnant!"

"I know, Mom, I know. But like, I know it's stupid, but I'm just so upset that it's going to ruin my wedding! That was my one special day and now they've ruined it. I spent so much time planning it and nobody is going to remember how it was! Just that Vivian got pregnant by a guy she didn't know."

"You know, she's spent the last twenty-five years telling me I'm a bad mother and I've raised you all up wrong. And now her precious little boy does this! She won't know what to do with herself now, I'm sure."

"Mom, I get that maybe this is, uh, a little close to home, but can you please just tell me I'm not being stupid? Farris hasn't really been listening, which I totally get because obviously he's mad, and he's trying to help his sister, but I just want to tell somebody."

"What do you mean, "close to home"?"

"Uhh, well, I was born in December, and you and Daddy got married the same year, in June."

"And?"

"That's not 9 months, Mom."

"You were early! We've told you this!"

"I've seen my baby album, I was over seven pounds and born at home. We covered premature infants when I was in college, if I was born at 26 or 27 weeks I would have been in the NICU for months. I figured it out a couple years ago, when I did the module, but I didn't want to tell you. I'm not mad or anything, I just thought it would be awkward."

"That's why we called you Dolly-Miracle, it was a blessing from God."

"And that's very sweet, but I still wouldn't have been seven pounds."

"God can do great things, you have no right to say that can't happen! Look, I need to make dinner, I'll be praying for you. Have a nice evening."

"Mom, we've already had dinner, I don't want dinner again, I'm full!"

"I'm not making dinner."

"You just told Dolly you were gonna make dinner!"

"You'll understand when you're older."

[malicemizer]

Hi just making a little post for my birthday - support a mixed indig Mexican disabled trans man and his indig Mexican & Jewish disabled nonbinary wife

So in June I was fired from my job for being disabled essentially—it’s a bit of a longer story than that but you can DM me and ask for details if you want. It was my only source of income and I was able to DoorDash after that a bit and pick up some of the slack for me and my wife’s bills.

We live with my dad, who’s a disabled alcoholic and has been skipping work excessively and also refuses to do any housework leaving the two of us and my wife’s brother and his girlfriend to do all the house work. It’s a lot, living with five people. My wife’s brother hasn’t been able to find a job and was fired from 2 jobs by racist bosses, the latter of which is refusing to pay him his last paycheck (it’s been like a month bro, like bffr) and it’s been really hard on all of us.

Those things, on top of the car accident my wife and I got into a couple weeks ago have made things very difficult. My car isn’t totaled, I think—I’m not sure, to be honest. But it’s pretty banged up and I can’t drive it. Insurance is taking forever to get back to us about my car, and they haven’t approved a rental for me yet. Basically that means I have no way of earning money until I start my job next week and even then it’ll be 2 weeks+ until I get my first paycheck.

I can draw, check my #my_art tag and see if my style is something you like, and I’d honestly rather work in exchange for money than just beg for money. But we’re getting really desperate and tomorrow is my birthday and I’d like to be able to not worry so much on my birthday.

If you have the resources available, please give what you can if you are able, but only if you are able! I appreciate reblogs as well, thank you so much for reading if you’ve gotten this far.

V£nm0: @/kaipybara

If you choose to donate or pay me through PayPal pleeeeeease ignore my birth name, PayPal is a bitch about letting me change it despite my legal name being updated for about 3 years now.

[mementoboni]

[part 3/4] DIR EN GREY WOWOW Interview & Document (2020)

"But looking at these, seeing Diru's behind-the-scenes production process, I still feel it's not easy, DIR EN GREY is really amazing." — Shinya

Notes before reading:

The whole interview is divided into 8 topics, and the translation is divided into 4 parts. This is the third part, including the 5th topic. The details of all topics and time markers are 👉 here.

I have added Chinese subtitles for this video in 2021. The whole interview was very meaningful, and I hope that with the English translation, more people can understand what they're talking about.

The five members were interviewed separately and then edited into a video, so the words spoken by each of them are not necessarily coherent.

Repost and share are welcome.🙌 I translated it all by my ears, so please feel free to correct me if you spot any mistake or any confusing parts.☺️

— — —

05. Member Feature

[ 薫 Kaoru ]

►Memories of the Band Formation

Kaoru: Even ONE MAN LIVE, we still didn't have the budget to decorate the stage. But we still wanted it, so we went to TOKYU HANDS* and bought Styrofoam, flower decorations, and wire or something like that. It's fun that we all made  stage decorations in the house together. (*Note: "TOKYU HANDS" is a Japanese chain of home-based department stores specializing in selling DIY products.)

►Something of Recent Interest

Kaoru: I am often asked, but I can't think of anything. I don't want to do anything when I get home.  This month, in June, "Neon Genesis Evangelion" (the movie) will be released, and I really like it. Kaoru: It's almost over, of course I also want to see it earlier, but after watching it is really over. I'm a little happy that it's going to be postponed, that it won't be released this year (2020), and that I won't be able to watch it. (Staff: Emotionally, you still can't accept it.) Kaoru: Yeah, yeah, it will feel like it's not the end yet.

►Opportunity for Solo Exhibition

(*Screen caption: Kaoru held a solo exhibition”ノウテイカラノ”in 2019.) Kaoru: The reason for the exhibition is that a few years ago my hands started to become a bit uncomfortable and I couldn't hold the pick properly to play the guitar, so I had to put the pick on my fingers with tape*.  As a kind of rehabilitation, I started to draw and try to show some random things, but the story is not yet that rich. (*Note: Around 2014, Kaoru's hands began to show signs of abnormalities, which were diagnosed to be the occupational disease, caused by relaxation of the ligaments of the muscles or joints.)

►The Origin of「ノウテイカラノ」("nouteikarano”)

Kaoru: When I was a child, I often had a dream. I don't know if it was the sky or the ground, but there was a pure white place, and from far away, I could see a lot of dots, as if there was a large group of things coming closer and closer, and in an instant, they all swarmed towards me. Kaoru: Every night I would dream about it, and then I woke up with a start.  I wake up every time I dream about it, and what happens after that? I imagine what happens after that, try to draw a picture like this, go back to my mind at that time and imagine it. (*Note: According to Kaoru’s scend book “Dokugen ni” (published in 2018) P.85, "ノウテイカラノ" means "脳底からの" (born from inside the head), just written in katakana.

►Influence on the Band

Kaoru: At first, I wanted to draw with a different feeling, and I felt that my creative power was stimulated, so I thought I could compose with a different feeling. But, rather, it seems to be more difficult to make a song. (laughs)

...

[ Shinya ]

►The Person You Admire

Shinya: I've been in a band since my first year of middle school. X was very popular in the class, and YOSHIKI-san's presence was very strong.  At that time I decided to become a drummer like him, and I've always looked up to YOSHIKI-san since then.

►Memories of the Band Formation

Shinya: We used to compose in a studio in Osaka. There was a container-like studio, and I remember we stayed there for 3 or 4 days, composing the song together.  The studio was rented, and we slept there under the blankets. Shinya: I never understood why we had to share a room*. The studio was in Osaka and we could just go home, so why did we have to spend the night there?  I guess other members might have felt the same way. (*Shinya used the word "gashuku, 合宿")

►Reason for Not Changing the Style

Shinya: There are people who have liked me for a long time. Also, I can feel the beauty by keeping my old look, and that's why (I don't change my look).

►Opportunity to Start Solo Project

(*Screen caption: Shinya established the music group "SERAPH" in 2017.) Shinya: The concept was already there many years ago, but I felt that it was a bit taboo to have other band activities, so I didn't do anything.  But around 2012 or 2013, I started to think that it was okay, so I went into it with the intention of trying it out.

►The Concept of "SERAPH"

Shinya: The theme is the various things that I see from heaven, about human beings, and that's what I'm expressing.

►Influence on the Band

Shinya: The drum part is the same as DIR EN GREY. After all, it's an expression of my own creation.  In this respect, when I think of the drums of DIR EN GREY, there may still be some influence.

►Things learned from "SERAPH"

Shinya: I have to do a lot of things by myself in SERAPH, booking all kinds of things and so on.  I'm quite happy to do it myself, or maybe I'm doing it because I like it. But looking at these, seeing Diru's behind-the-scenes production process, I still feel it's not easy, DIR EN GREY is really amazing.

...

[ Die ]

►Opportunity to Go into the Band

Die: I wasn't that interested in music itself before. I like listening to music, but I don't know anything about the bands. After entering high school, I saw the performance of senpais' copy band at the cultural festival. I was dragged there by my friends, and it was a shock to me. The first time I saw a live performance, I realized that it's the band. Die: Although I had no interest in it, I wanted to do something while watching it, and I formed a band with my friend immediately after the show was over. There was no one else (in the band). I was a drummer at first. (laughs)  But it's boring to play rhythm all the time at home.  After all, guitar is a melodic instrument, and there is an amplifier. I guess the guitar is more attractive to me.

►Memories of the Band Formation

Die: When we first debuted, we spent the whole day in the conference room of the record company, signing posters, changing signatures, and so on. Filming also started at 6 a.m., and it took about 3 hours for a person to put on makeup, it's usually over time at the end. I remember these things very well.

►Something of Recent Interest

Die: In my daily life, I naturally see and hear things like the Japanese music industry, and it feels really peaceful.

►Opportunity to Start Solo Project

(*Screen caption: Die founded the rock band "DECAYS" in 2015.) Die: As far as music is concerned, it's something I can't do at DIR EN GREY. I wanted to try and see how far I could go without the DIR EN GREY label. There is a part of me that wants to do it myself, or to challenge it.

►Things learned from "DECAYS"

Die: At first I felt like I had to make some changes, but instead, I felt like I was losing myself. In the end, I found that it is best to be myself, in the next process.

...

[ Toshiya ]

►Opportunity to Start Playing Bass

Toshiya: Originally, I just wanted to be a guitarist, but I didn't think I could play very well. At that time, I was thinking about what to do, and then I was attracted to the bass. I felt like I could see my future. Toshiya: There are many people who are called "Guitar Heroes", but few people remember "Bass Heroes". That means there is still room for me to develop, so I thought I would play bass.

►Memories of the Band Formation

Toshiya: When our band first formed, four members came to my hometown. It was winter and there was still snow on the ground. They all came from Kansai and rarely saw snow*. I was very impressed by how excited they were to see snow. (*Toshiya's hometown is Nagano. It is said that Toshiya's mother took the picture at the time and still keeps it at home in Nagano :D → TOSHIYA AT JOE YOKOMIZO CHANNEL 4th FEB TRANSLATION/NOTES 2/4)

►Favorite Artists

Toshiya: I like painting. Vincent van Gogh and Francis Bacon, I like both of them very much.  The world of painting is usually a mixture of truth and fiction.

►Opportunity to Start the Apparel Brand

(*Screen caption: Fashion brand with Toshiya as creative director - DIRT) Toshiya: I think music and fashion are inseparable and both are very attractive. Music should be free to express itself, and in the same way, fashion should be free, too. Toshiya: When it comes to expressing oneself, everyone chooses what is acceptable to most people*. I don't like that, I think we should listen to our own thoughts more. (*Toshiya used the word "migimuke migi, 右向け右")

►Influence on the Band

Toshiya: Even if I'm designing clothes, I end up having something to do with music. Although this is a completely different field, it will eventually return to music and bands.

...

[ 京 Kyo ]

►The Person You Admire

Kyo: There are a lot of them.  Now I'm not just targeting one person. When I was young, there were a lot of senpais that I wanted to become like them.  But it's been more than 20 years, so now I don't take them as a target, just be myself.

►Interested Artists

Kyo: Haven't there "Kimetsu no Yaiba (鬼滅の刃)" recently?  I haven't read it yet, it's super popular, isn't it?  Generally speaking, if the sales are so good, it is difficult to end the series, right? There will be a variety of entanglements, such as the life afterwards, there are many to consider. Kyo: I think it's great to end the series like this, to end it at this time, with a sense of strength and determination. So if there is a follow-up manga in the future, I would like to read it.

►Opportunity to Start Solo Project

(*Screen caption: Kyo founded the rock band "sukekiyo" in 2013.) Kyo: The things I want to do often keep popping up. I think it's a shame not to do it, and I don't want to regret it.

►Influence on the Band

Kyo: I don't think so, but I feel less stressed (after the solo project).  People who like DIR EN GREY say to me, "Don't bring sukekiyo to DIR EN GREY!" Sometimes people say that, and I'm not going to do that. Kyo: I was asked why (I want to form a sukekiyo), "Diru can do it, right?" It's because I can't do it (in Diru) that I want to do it!  I don't know what criteria they used to say that Diru can do it, but I didn't do what I could do (in Diru).  If you finish what you want to do one by one, you will be less stressed out.

(To be continued…)

--- --- ---

part 1. & part 2. & part4.

topics & time marks

中文翻譯 (My Blogger) part 1. & part 2. & part 3.

[profoundbondfanfic]

☆ 1k follower celebration ☆

Hello, everyone! A few months ago we reached 1k followers and the blog also turned 1 year old🥳 We didn't do anything back then but now the time has finally come! So starting this Monday (June 26th) and for the next five weeks, the blog will be dedicated to this celebration.

What this means is that for the next five weeks, each member will review one of our all-time favorite fics per week. Considering there are 7 of us, that's a lot of great fics we'll get to rec in the next few weeks so hopefully you'll find something you like.

Thank you all so much for following us and for all the reblogs and asks and kind words you've been sending our way. We really appreciate all the support this blog has received so far.

From the members, @casblackfeathers @casloveshisfreckles @dothwrites @kitmistry @peanutbutterjelly-pie @valandrawrites and @bqrbie who is saying her goodbyes to the blog after this celebration and who we thank for all her dedication and hard work!💚💙