#will i continue to use monster to make buck messy? probably

[lover-of-mine]

I'll do what I want, what I want over what's right.

[mvrkgeoli]

tomorrow at 9pm

warnings: cunnilingus, unprotected sex, slight dumbification and degradation, some name calling, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, a bit of auralism. author’s note: this was supposed to be a short next part for this drabble but i got kinda carried away with 3.7k words um,, anyw this is my first full blown smut i hope u enjoy :D

it was now ��tomorrow at 9pm’, not precisely since you chose to be fashionably late but you still came. standing in front of the boy’s dorm wearing a thin cropped cardigan paired with high waisted jeans, it was simple but you found it cute and not too flashy as to not make the teasing boy tease you even more.

the door squeaked open just as your fingers were about to touch the dorm’s doorbell, “it’s 9:13. you’re late.” speak of the devil. you were met with donghyuck’s unamused face eyeing you up and down, your eyes widening a bit at the sudden appearance. scrambling back up to straighten your posture before retorting back at the boy. “yeah? well, i have places to be. people to meet.” you raised a brow provocatively at the boy.

a corner of his mouth curled up at your words as if scoffing at you before letting you in. mumbling a faint ‘thank you’ as you stepped foot into the unit.

“in my room.” his monotone voice slightly annoyed you, rolling your eyes as you trail behind him. you took this moment to look at his attire, both his shirt and basketball shorts hung loosely on his figure, the fluffiness of his hair bouncing each step he made. you pondered how something that simple could suit someone before the jiggle of the doorknob of his room rung into your ears, making you break off of your small trance.

he comfortably sat by his desk, the sound of the game he was probably playing before you arrived was playing in the back when he opened his documents. “i finished it a few hours ago, you can revise it or something.” donghyuck casted you a look using his peripheral, smirking at the way you stood still by the entrance of his room.

you stood in silence, feeling the embarrassment bubble up inside you. you felt so dumb, knees almost buckling when his voice snapped you back into your right mind.

“what are you standing there for? you were the one nagging me about the deadline. did you think we’d do something else?” he stood from his gaming chair to pad his way towards you, towering over you slightly. “answer me, baby.”

heat made its way to your face, gulping to yourself as you pin your eyes to anywhere except him. he held onto your chin in between his thumb and index finger to make you look at him directly. “what was on your mind, princess? i thought you wanted me to finish my part of the paper.” your eyes shook in focus of looking at his face. it was his turn to raise a brow at you, your lips quivered as you struggled to think of a comeback to throw at the boy.

“i.. i did but,,,” your eyes absentmindedly lowered to donghyuck’s plump lips, leading up to him letting out a chuckle at you. “but what, dollface? i can’t do anything if you don’t tell me.”

your eyebrows furrowed as you came into realization that he was doing this on purpose, “what are you looking so angry for, babe?” an eyebrow rose on donghyuck’s face teasingly, you grip at his hand to pull it away from your face, huffing as you felt his hand stiffen at your grip. “cut the shit, lee. i know what you’re doing.”

donghyuck grinned at this, he loved seeing you get riled up by him whether it was frustration or sensual. “i love the way you get all sassy on me, you always act so pristine and prep. i know you’re just a little cumslut, you’re all bark and no bite.” 

your lips part at the way of his phrasing, can’t help but press your thighs together at the name. donghyuck let another laugh spill past his lips at this, his free hand going around to let his hand rest on the small of your back to pull you closer. “after finally hearing your sweet noises last night, i don’t think i’d get to sleep properly till i get to feel your cunt around me now that i’ve got a small taste of what you’re like. you’d let me right?”

he pressed both of your bodies against each other leaving no space for jesus at all, you looked at him through your lashes. his dumb angel face imprinting itself into your mind, it made you angry that you wanted his body just as much as he did for yours.

he leaned down to let his breath fan against your ear and stayed like that for a moment in your embrace. it sent goosebumps down your body at how easily he could affect you with just his breathing, the cold air engulfing you as he pulled away abruptly to walk back to his desk and sit down with a smirk. “c’mon then, let’s finish that paper.”

“you fucking tease!!” you huffed at him, he looked back at you and cocked his head at the sudden raise of volume in your voice. you stomped your way to face the boy’s anticipating look, straddling yourself onto his lap to finally smash your lips against his. his hands easily finding its way to rest on your rear to support your weight.

donghyuck pulled away slightly to speak in an attempt to tease you, “so eager—!?” only to be cut off by your lips once again. his eyes widening at your assertiveness, you felt the smirk on his lips curl up as you continued to smooch the boy with frustration.

you took the chance to slide your tongue into his mouth the moment his lips parted enough space, you kept your hands on his chest, gripping slightly on the loose shirt he was wearing.

something poked at your inner thigh, resulting for you to pull away, a thin string of saliva connecting the two of you. it was your turn to tease. you leaned back down to lay kisses down his cheek to his neck, latching your lips onto the patch of skin he reacted most to. suckling gently to listen to the man before you spill small whines.

“fuck,,, i thought you wanted to finish—” you interrupted once more by placing a peck to his lips. “we can worry about that later, fuck me right now or i’m leaving.”

that was all donghyuck needed to hear, hooking his hold on you under your thighs before lifting you up to carry your body to his bed. he was on top this time. your hands gripping onto his shirt pulled him down for another kiss, it was messy but it was hot that way with all the frustration.

one of his hands traveled up to slip under your cropped cardigan, the coldness of his fingertips searing onto your skin made you squirm closer into his hold. “fuck you’re so hot baby.” donghyuck spoke against your lips, “you’re not too bad yourself, lee.” you moved one of your hands down to palm the boy’s hardness, finding it easy to wrap your hand around his length with the thin basketball shorts he wore.

“are you not wearing boxers or something?” you scoffed, he laughed against your cheek. “no i just have a monster horse schlong- of course not, i’m only home anyway, why do i need underwear for?”

“gross, lee.” he only giggled at your scolding tone before sitting upright letting your grip on his hard on fall to let his hands unbutton your shirt to reveal a lacy baby blue bra, a smile grew on his lips. he proceeded to pop open your jeans’ button before pulling it off so teasingly slow. “hurry!” you kicked slightly in irritation, making donghyuck click his tongue. “stop being a brat, i’m already giving you my time. don’t throw tantrums on me, baby.”

with that, he hastily pulled off your pants, the burn of the fabric making you whimper. “what, baby? i thought you wanted it this way? make up your mind.” he took hold of your legs, letting one of his hands hook under your knees before pushing towards you, making your thighs press against your tummy. “‘m sorr- sorry—“

“cute. you’re so cute.” donghyuck smirked at the sight before him, his freehand going down to give your ass a longing squeeze before letting his fingers ghost over your panty clad core. “please hyuck..”

“hm? what’d you want, baby?” he kept his stare on you with hooded eyes, the pad of his thumb pressing slow circles onto your clit over your panties as he waited for an answer. a whimper fell from your lips at the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves, feeling the fabric of your panties grow slick as donghyuck continued with his ministrations. “your.. your cock please.. need it— ah…”

“not so bitchy anymore huh? haven’t even done much and you’re practically already fucked out. aren’t you, dollface? you want me to fuck you and make you fall stupid?” you shuddered at his words, his fingers hooking your panties to the side before slicking up his digits with your wetness, only making you squirm in his hold even more. “i need an answer, baby.”

you whined at this, wriggling your legs in his grasp. “what did i say about your little tantrums? if you don’t answer me properly i guess you aren’t getting any dick.”

a gasp elicited from your lips as you shook your head no, “no no no.. no please, i want it so bad. please, hyuck… want— need your cock inside please.. please please please…!” the corners of his mouth curled up at your words, “that’s a good girl.” putting his attention back to your core to slip in a digit first, his cock aching at how tight you were wrapped on a single finger already. ”fuck you were right, i need to stretch this pussy out first before fucking it. are you okay with that, babe?”

“just want… inside..” you sighed in delight when the pad of his finger rubbed on that spongy spot, “m..more, please.” he giggled at your request, slipping in a second finger with the help of your increasing wetness. “fuck baby, i already know you’re gonna take me so well, gonna be so good.” his hips bucked into nothing when a string of moans spilled past your lips, you sounded so angelic in a state such as this. he knew you sounded so good from the past call but hearing them in present time in real life made his cock swell with need.

“i’m gonna taste you. you good with that, babe?” he was returned with frantic nodding from you, smiling at your whines saying ‘please’ repeatedly. with that, donghyuck moved his other hand down to let your thighs finally spread before peeling off your panties. “so pretty for me.”  leaning down to give your heat a small peck before diving in, letting his tongue lick on your clit deliciously as his fingers continued pumping inside you.

“haah~! hyuck! ‘s so good—!” the back of one of your hands met with your eyes as they scrunched up in pleasure, the other reaching down to thread fingers through his fluffy hair. it was just as you thought, just as fluffy as what it looked like, if not even more. your first orgasm came unexpectedly when he mindlessly slipped in a third finger inside as he let his mouth suckle on your clit along with letting his tongue flick over it from time to time. “aah—! fuck,, cumming~!” 

donghyuck only chuckled against your core as your thighs shook at the continuous pleasure coursing through your body. pulling on the boy’s tufts of hair in attempt to pull his head away, only making him grunting against your sensitive pearl. “hyuck! fuck- sto— slow down!” 

he slowly pulled away when you came down from your first high, the mixture of his saliva with your slick covering the bottom half of his face, shining in the light your room provided. you were left panting as you peeked at the boy’s sinful face, watching as he sat up to finally unclothe himself. you let out an anticipating sigh watching him strip off the baggy shirt he wore, squealing to yourself the more skin he revealed.

“liking the view, dollface?” you broke off of your mesmerized stare, feeling head spreading throughout your face even more if it was even possible at his words. to which you nodded to, your eyes tracked to his cock as soon as he slipped off his shorts. donghyuck took notice of this and didn’t hesitate to tease you. “such a cockslut. you want it so bad, don’t you baby?” he had a smug grin on his face when he saw you shrinking back when he set himself in between your legs once again.

“sit up for a second for me, babe.” you complied absentmindedly, letting him discard your cardigan along with unclipping your bra with ease. one of your hands finding its way to wrap on his bare cock, sighing in delight at the heat and girth it brought. “wan suck…”

“oh baby, as much as i’d like that, i cannot wait to be inside you already. let’s save that for next time hm? you look so pretty.” he smiled down at you. your heart skipped a beat at ‘next time’ biting back a smile to return at your excitement for said; ‘next time’. he gently turned you around for your back to face him, your chest pressing into the boy’s mattress as you felt the heat of his thighs sear yours. “need protection? i’m clean.”

you appreciate him asking first, you would’ve said yes even if you were safe and on the pill but you couldn’t stand the emptiness you felt and just shook your head. “‘m okay, just.. just want inside, please…”

he let out a low chuckle, hearing you gasp as he rubbed his cock against your pussy to slick himself up. “gonna fuck you dumb, baby.”

he lined himself up and slowly pushed his length into your hole, you gripped on the thick comforter beneath you at the stretch. a string of whimpers spilling from your mouth when he started to move. “that’s it, baby… you’re so hot and tight inside,, you sure you’ve ever been fucked properly?”

your mind filled itself with donghyuck as you felt full of his cock. donghyuck leaned forward to let one of his hands grip on your shoulder, “answer me, dollface.” you whined, shaking your head, not having the brain to respond. “already dumb? c’mon i know you can do it.”

he snapped his hips forward making you release a yelp, a small push for you to respond for him. “mmmh— ye- yes!! i mean nno, only your cock— only your cock can fuck me right. please please…” donghyuck smugly giggled at you before moving his hands down to rest at your hips, fingers digging lightly to pull your body towards him with every thrust he made. “wasn’t hard was it, doll?” 

you felt your thighs tremble. with having little time to recover from your first orgasm, you had somewhat a hard time to support your weight with the sensitivity running through your nerves. you were mentally thanking the boy fucking you for holding your hips up to help you. “fuck you feel so good wrapped around me. so warm and soft for me.”

he leaned back down to press his chest against your back as you, the feeling of his breath fanning against your skin making you shiver. your legs almost giving out when you felt his hand slip down beneath you to find the pads of his fingers rub on your still sensitive clit. “ah— wait! clo— i’m close!”

you yelped as your words only made his movements harsher, your pussy clenching when donghyuck let out his first totally vocal moan. “y-you sound so good… please.. more,, need to hear more please…”

“nggh..! you like listening to me hm? like listening to me loving the way your cunt feels around me? fuck this is so hot. you’re so fucking hot.” he slightly tipped his head up to let his voice meet your ears directly, you came without a notice at this, hearing his words and noises right against your eardrums along with his fingers on your clit made the tight cord that formed in your stomach snap. 

the gush of wetness was hard to ignore when he felt you releasing. eyes widening at the hot feeling of your juices stream fluidly between your bodies. “that was so- did you just fucking squirt—”

“gah—! fuck!! i.. more!! want more, please.. hurts so good~!” your legs shook at your next orgasm, his hand on your core moving up to take hold on your breasts as you panted heavily when he continued plunging into you with such a pace.

“fuck you love it huh, baby? want me to keep fucking you and take me like the fucking cockslut you are?” he let out another moan against your ear as his grip got tighter on your flesh. you swear you felt your eyes roll back so far you could see your donghyuck-filled-brain with all the pleasure you were receiving. “fuck yes!! i love it! love your cock so much—! shit!”

he pulled out of you for a moment to flip your body around to face him, you whined at the emptiness before relaxing back into the softness of his bed. “shh baby, don’t worry,,” he quickly pushed himself back into your heat, “such a dirty girl. squirting all over me and asking for more.. fuck.”

with this position; you got to see the way his face scrunched up in ecstasy whenever you squeezed his cock with your cunt along with his cockhead hitting your spot delightfully, only turning you on even more. moving a hand down to attempt rubbing your own clit — only for donghyuck to slap your hand away. “so fucking greedy. you’re gonna cum with only the help of my cock this time, dollface.. such a whore for my dick.”

his hands find its way to hold under your thighs, pushing slightly for him to drive deeper into you. “a-again, close again!!” he let out a shaky groan as he felt you tighten around him once more. “me too, baby.. if you keep squeezing me like that- i won’t last much more— fuck!”

his thrusts grew erratic and sloppy, leaning down further to press your chest against his. “just want me to fill you up, don’t you, doll? want me to stuff you full with my cock and cum inside?”

he made your dopamine level practically raise the roof with just his voice, even more so with his choice of words. “mmh— fuck yes! want.. want it all!!” you wrap your legs around the boy’s waist to pull him closer, hooking your arms around his neck making you feel his breath right up your cheeks. “fucking slut, just a fuck doll for me to use.”

you came once more after several thrusts with a chant of his name spilling absentmindedly from your lips. “a little bit more baby, i’m so fucking close…”

you could only let your legs hug his torso tighter and let him fuck you senseless as you went into overstimulation again, his lips finding yours to seal a messy kiss to swallow your wails and moans. tongues dancing with each other sloppily as donghyuck chased for his long awaited high.

his lips coming to a stop, leaving it agape against yours to breathe into each other when he felt the all too well feeling of ejaculating. “cum for me, hyuck. stuff me full… please..!”

you spoke with need. hands combing through his hair as he let out a long moan, hips bucked to bury himself inside you so deeply, face contorting into pleasure as he released. you marveled at the feeling of heat and fullness his cum brought to you. if you knew it felt this good to be filled up with cum, you would’ve thrown out the idea of using condoms ages ago.

donghyuck let his weight fall on you gently, making sure not to crush you. panting heavily against your chest as he calmed down with himself still inside of you, letting it soften inside slowly. “will you go out with me,, like on a real date?”

when you didn’t respond, he held himself up with his elbows to look at your state. “a-are you okay? i didn’t hurt you, did i?” eyes hooded, cheeks red, hair messy with some stuck to your face due to the heat and sweat, and lips swollen from everything. he was in a trance staring at your after-sex-glow, unfortunately coming to an end as you felt yourself regain your braincells to not only think about cock.

“fucking ass, you did it backwards!” you scoffed at the boy, turning your head away when your cheeks heat up from his burning stare. he giggled at this, you were back to your senses, kind of.. you only stretched your lips into a line at his laugh resonating to your ears. “and yeah i guess,, i’ll take you up on that date.”

“fuck yeah! remind me to thank professor kim for putting us together, i’ve literally been having this fucking crush on you since the start of the semester.” your eyes soften at his words, you didn’t even know about him ‘til you got partnered up with him. it made your tummy flutter at the discovery of you not getting his attention just because of your body.

“dumbass,,” your eyes flutter close at the tired and soreness you felt until — ‘professor kim’, ‘partnered up’? the fucking paper! you shouted to yourself mentally, eyes snapping back open and crane your neck forward. “wait the—”

“shh, you said it yourself; ‘we can worry about it later’, yeah? let’s do it when we have the right mind to even think of anything…” he pushed your head back down with care before continuing, “i uhm,, like you for real, okay? just wanted to let you know i want you not just because of how hot you are.” he smiled down at you before pressing a longing kiss on your forehead, letting himself come back down to rest with you for a few more moments. “thank you, hyuck. i really appreciate that..”

“i’ll set us a bath later, let’s just stay like this for a little longer, please.” he cuddled into you even more. it even shocked you at how soft and adorable the boy was when he wasn’t trying to jump and tease you. sighing in content as you let yourself fall asleep in his embrace. 

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Arcade - Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆  Just a silly thing I wrote about an arcade employee being baffled while Komaeda clears out all the machines lol ミ☆ I’ve been feeling kind of down about my writing so i just wanted to do something fun. It’s not very good haha. I’m tired and i can’t write good asjfkakd

Night shift at the arcade is usually pretty quiet. Most people start leaving around dinner time and while there are usually still some hardcore gamers lurking around until the AM, most of them only come in on Friday’s or weekends. So the job is usually easy breezy, most nights you lean up on the counter and browse the internet on your phone until your shift ends.

Tonight though, you have been acutely watching as this guy moves from machine to machine. Absolutely clearing them out. You’ve never seen anything like it. Presently, you are crouched behind a claw machine filled with Hello Kitty plushies as this guy slips two bucks into the Big Bass Wheel cabinet. Your eyes drift over to the last cabinet he used, the Wizard of Oz coin pusher. It is empty , you have never seen that happen in the whole time you’ve worked here. You weren’t even sure it could happen.

The guy spins the wheel, it spins and spins and spins. Jackpot. Your eyes narrow, a jackpot isn’t too uncommon, it honestly isn’t even worth that many tickets, but then he nonchalantly slides in another two dollars and hits jackpot again . This is starting to get suspicious.

The machine is spitting out tickets now, so many tickets. Even the guy looks surprised, you are definitely surprised. Two jackpots is not worth that many tickets, but they just keep coming and coming. Machine fault? Must be. The guy looks almost resigned at this point, sighing unhappily as the tickets keep spewing out, like they’re wasting his time and not like this was a superhuman feat of luck. Then, the machine starts smoking.

“Shit!” You hiss, jumping up from your hiding place behind the claw machine and dashing over to the guy before anything catches on fire. You’ve caught him by surprise, he probably didn’t realise you were following him around, “out of the way, please!”

He ducks out of the way, pulling his armfuls worth of tickets along with him as you switch the arcade cabinet off at the wall. The machinery inside stops whirring and the smoke calms down. You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, you’ve never seen a machine fault this badly before, you were probably going to need to file an indecent report. What a pain.

“You okay?” You ask the guy. He is a lot taller up close, and the shock of messy white hair on his head only makes him seem taller. He sways like a palm tree in the breeze, clutching onto his massive wad of tickets for dear life.

“I’m sorry. I broke your machine.”

Oh...his voice is softer than you had expected it would be. The lights from a nearby Daytona cabinet are reflecting in his green eyes. You swallow, “You didn't break anything, machine fault, it happens sometimes.”

His eyes drift away from you and over to the cabinet, the smoke has stopped now, it doesn't look like there was too much damage, but he looks very upset about it anyway.

“Hey, seriously, dont worry about it.” You give him an awkward pat on his forearm, “The machines in here are really old, stuff like this happens all the time.”

“Oh...ah…” He bites his lip, “If you’re sure…”

You smile, “Yeah, don't even sweat it. You can keep the tickets by the way, once they're out of the machine it's a nightmare to get them back in again, so consider it an apology for almost setting you on fire.”

He laughs weakly, “Thank you.”

“Hey, uh…” You start, not so subtle eyeing his ticket collection. A decent chunk of it was from that Big Bass Wheel malfunction, an already exorbitant number was won legit. More than you had ever seen anyone win before, “are you a cabinet master?”

“A...what?”

“Like, you know all the sweet spots on the machines. Technically not cheating, but not entirely legal either.”

His eyes widen, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” You shake your head at him, “You just won a lot of tickets is all. I’ve never seen someone win that many tickets.”

“I’m just really lucky. It’s all i'm good at, honestly.” He’s fiddling with the tickets in his arms, “My friend’s birthday is coming up and i'm trying to win her that Sailor Moon statue.”

It is true that there is a coveted Sailor Moon statue amongst the arcade’s prize collection. It’s huge, beautifully painted and according to your boss, incredibly rare . It’s been sitting there on the shelf for god knows how long, still tight in it’s shrinkwrap. Generally the most any player is able to afford is three or four sticky hands and a glow in the dark spider ring, but this guy is getting tantalisingly close.

You cross your arms and smirk at him, “You’re really that lucky?”

“Most of the time.”

“Okay then. You’re going to play Monster Drop next, it's the hardest cabinet we have.” You start heading over to the machine in the back of the arcade, it’s huge, you always forget how huge it is. The guy is diligently following behind you, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself seem smaller. The pile of tickets in his arms rustling as he walks, “I’ve never seen anyone get a monster jackpot on this thing. Also my boss filled it with a bunch of different sized balls, so it's basically impossible to get a standard jackpot too, even after practicing at other arcades.”

“Hm. Is that really fair?”

You shrug a shoulder, “Nope. It’s big and loud, so lots of people want to play it and Boss doesn't want too many people winning. there's a catch though, raise the difficulty and you also raise the ticket payout. So if you manage to beat it, you'll be able to afford Sailor Moon.”

The current ticket payout is displayed in flashing red lights, 72,483 . With every failed attempt at hitting the monster jackpot the payout just gets higher and higher, those tantalising numbers draw in more kids hoping to be the one who gets lucky. A number that big means the cabinet has never been won, a smart arcade goer knows that a number like that means stay away.

“How do I play?” He asks, dropping his ticket collection on the ground at his feet.

“Ah, it’s deceptively simple.” You grab his hand and tug him over to the machine, gesturing up at where the balls drop down from, “You just need to press the button to let out a ball, and that’s literally it. The base of the machine spins around to make it harder to get the balls in. Monster jackpot is in the middle, so you would think a straight drop down would jackpot you every time but-”

He smirks wryly, “it’s never that easy is it?”

“Of course not! We’d never make any money if it was.”

He laughs to himself, pulling another coin out of his pocket and clinking it into the machine, “Ah, only one turn?”

You hold up a finger, “Just the one.”

He laughs again, “Brutal.”

“Very.” You take a step back to give him room to familiarise himself with the machine. Most people like to observe it from a few angles, take some time, watch at least one cycle before using up their one shot, “Good luck.”

He turns to you and smiles, “Thanks, but like i said, this is the one thing i'm good at.” He pushes the button, he isn't even looking at the machine, the rotating base hasn't even finished half a cycle. This guy is ballsy.

Despite his gumption, the ball falls a little short of the monster jackpot, “Aw, bad luck-” you start saying, but then it starts bouncing. Once off the base, three times off the sides, up high into the air and then plonk . Straight into the monster jackpot. All you can do is stare. Not only did he get the jackpot, he got it in a rigged machine while he wasn't even looking .

He laughs politely, the sound barely audible of the cabinet’s furious ringing bells and sirens signalling an impossible feat just happened here, everyone look! The tickets have started dispensing, with over 70k to print, it's going to be a long wait, “Jeez, that was scary. I almost thought my luck had run out there!”

He looks completely relaxed as he starts folding the fresh tickets into the neatest pile he can manage, “Are you a god or something?”

“Huh?” He says, blinking down at you, “That’s such a strange thing to ask me.”

“You just beat Monster Drop without looking . I’ve seen professional cabinet masters come in here and still lose after examining the machine for a good two hours!”

“Oh, no need to be impressed. I didn't actually do anything.” He smiles sadly and continues collecting his tickets, “It’s not really much of a talent, but i suppose it comes in handy sometimes.”

You clap a palm to your forehead, unable to believe what you are hearing, “You’re going to have enough tickets for the Sailor Moon statue and enough leftover for like...unlimited sticky hands.”

He taps a finger to his lips, “Oh! I would like some sticky hands.”

“How many?”

His brow creases as he considers it, “Three or four, i guess.”

“Three or-” you start laughing, “Buddy, i could pour the whole box into your bag if you wanted.”

“I don't think i need that many sticky hands, but it's very kind of you to offer.”

“We also have glow in the dark spider rings, and a robust selection of slinkies. Oh! If you really want to splurge we have a pair of slippers that resemble a character from Rick and Morty.”

He grimaces, “I would prefer the slinkies.”

You hear the arcade cabinet’s ticket dispenser finally come to a stop, and despite his good natured effort to collect the tickets in a neat pile, they are still all bunched up around his ankles. You are about to ask him another question when you quickly realise that the Monster Drop machine is now also smoking.

He sighs, “I should have known.”

You don't have time to look into that comment, you are too busy scrambling around to the back of the machine so you can turn the power off at the wall. Much like last time, you catch it before anything actually catches on fire. This has been a very eventful day.

“Hey, uh-” you start awkwardly, pulling yourself up from the ground and moving to help the guy contend with his ticket pile, “I finish in like half an hour...if you need help carrying your miscellaneous arcade prizes back to your car or whatever…”

He blinks at you as you both reach the prize counter and deposit the monstrous ticket collection onto the bench, “I should be okay on my own...but if you want to come I wouldn't mind, though I can’t guarantee I won’t set anything else on fire…” he chuckles nervously and you give him a quizzical look.

You do want to go with him, you aren't sure if it’s just a morbid curiosity about his luck with the arcade machines, or a fascination with the soft halo of white hair falling into his eyes, but you want to get to know him better, “I’ll come with you. You don’t have anywhere near enough fingers for all the glow in the dark spider rings I’m about to give you.” You say as you round the counter and start organising his tickets into more manageable piles.

He smiles, “that does sound like a good idea. I don’t want to drop any of my brand new sticky hands, after all.” He leans forward on the counter, blinking up at you. He’s got really pretty eyelashes, “I’m Nagito Komaeda, in case you were wondering.”

You laugh, “Nice to meet you, Nagito. Now give me 20 minutes to count all your damn tickets.”

[hinatas-sunshine]

“Flower Shop”

Oikawa, Kuroo, Akaashi

Synopsis: Pretty Boy meets flower shop girl.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Requests: Open

Oikawa:

• As usual, the sun hit the flowers just right. The bright colors of green and splashes of red, white, pink, purple, etc..

• You slightly mumbled a curse, a little angry at your mom for making you work at this time

• Everyday, at this specific time, a bunch of girls would come in an buy flowers, shoving and attacking each other talking about a certain boy

“Move! He likes these! He told me so!”

“Like THE tooru oikawa would even talk to you!”

• You sighed and slammed your head on the counter - please please please give me a concussion so I don’t have to deal with these girls

• As you rang up all the flowers and made bouquets as quickly as possible you sighed in relief to see they were all gone

• Unbeknownst to you a tall figure walked into the store, dark hood, hat and sunglasses

• Yoh continued to clean the store from all the messy girls ruining it due to their flower picking

“Did those girls do this?”

• You jumped, elbowing the person in the chest causing them to fly back

• Looking down you see a boy, light brown hair and brown eyes to match, groaning on the floor

“What are you? Some strong monster!?”

“What are you? A perv!?”

• He chuckled as you helped him up, taking note of how soft your hands were under his rough ones

“You never answered my question.”

“Yes, they come in all the time talking about this Oikawa boy, ruining the store and then leaving. Give me a break! He can’t be that special.”

• As you threw your arms around dramatically he watched amused

“And here I thought I was special.”

• You eyes widened in shock looking sheepishly at, who you concluded, IS Oikawa.

“Oh...I’m sorry...”

• He shook his head laughing

“Don’t worry about it, I’m here to pick up flowers for my mom anyways.”

• You nodded, still feeling bad about ranting

“You can make anything you’d like. I don’t know anything about how to make this look good.”

• As you wrapped up some flowers, ribbon and everything you held it up for him to see.

“Beautiful.”

• Though as he said so, his eyes never left yours. Your soft features making him feel safe, him laughing lightly as you scrunched your nose at the baby’s-breath flower tickled it.

• You took his money, handing him the change to which he dumped some and extra in the jar

• You thanked him and went to clean up the mess from flower organization you had just done

“So what do you do with the flowers those girls give you everyday?”

“Well...”

• He squints to look at your name tag

“Y/n, cute name, my mom just places them around the house. Today is her birthday though, thought I’d bring her something bigger.”

• You smiled at him, and if he could’ve, he would’ve melted at the sight. Everything about you had made him weak to the knees.

• But that moment was over, and he wouldn’t see you again as he walked out of the shop.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

• You would never spend your off day at a volleyball game

• Your best friend though, complained how it was important

“Please y/n!”

“I’d rather not.”

“I’ll tell the whole school how you binge read killing-stalking because of sangwoo.”

• Now here you were sitting in the stands while you best friend shamelessly flirted with the guy next to her.

• She wanted your to third wheel Huh?

• You got up to go to the bathroom because you’d rather be there than around a flirting couple

• As you noticed a group of girls surrounded around someone you pushed through to continue your walk

“Excuse me! I gotta go this way!”

• You heard feet approaching, making you stop and turn around

• Automatically you noticed the brown hair and matching brown eyes making you smile

“We meet again.”

“I guess we do...”

• You noticed his uniform, to which you plucked a piece of lint off of, smiling at him

“Good Luck, Captain.”

• For once, Oikawa’s cocky nature wasn’t keeping up with him and he felt a blush creep up on his face

“Thank you.”

“Oi! Shittykawa! Let’s go and stop flirting!”

• Oikawa, startled and embarrassed laughed before waving at you and running off, you waving back and laughing softly

“Did you really have to do that in front of her?!”

“Not if you’d hurry your ass up.”

“Iwa-Chan that’s mean.”

“Didn’t ask.”

• As you sat down again next to your friend smiling down at your lap, she smirked

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You flirt. My baby is growing up. I’m so proud I could cry and this whole time I though you were an antisocial little rat.”

• You glared at her while she patted your head, the game beginning

• Watching intensely, you cheered for Aoba Johsai, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the setter

• Finally bold enough, after scoring a point Oikawa pointed at you smiling

• As your friend screamed excitedly definitely about the scored point not about oikawa thats crazy she shook you like a madwoman

“He just pointed at you!”

“Stop glaring at my friend I’ll throat punch you guys!”

“Point at her again! You won’t!”

• Needless to say, he asked you out on a date after he won the match

Kuroo:

• Nothing about today was abnormal, you watered your moms plants and set out more flowers

• You placed some flowers on display and set at the cash register working on your homework for this week

• Ignoring the dinging bell, you still spoke up

“Welcome!”

• Flipping the page to your textbook you placed a floral bookmark in and closed it looking up to see a black haired boy standing there

“O-oh! Kuroo!”

“Y/n, hey. You told me to meet you here?”

• A blush crept onto your face just as slowly as the butterflies, it’s silly to even have a crush on Kuroo, he was the schools heartthrob.

• Ignoring the blush on your cheeks you nodded standing up and making your way over to the back

“I’m going on break, I have to study.”

“Oh I saw... study huh? I’m too young to have grandkids!”

• You yelped and your eyes grew wide

“No! No it’s not like that!”

• Your mom smiles shooing you out, while you tried to control your nerves at her words

• You noticed Kuroo’s own pink cheeks as you came back, oh god he heard her

“We can go to the outside area, I’ll fix us something to drink.”

• He nodded heading outside to the flower garden area with tables

• You walked back into where your mom was and screamed before shutting the door and taking your stuff and some drinks outside

“Thank you.”

• You nodded and looked at your textbook, great your teacher first pairs you up with your crush, then your mom tells you not to have grandkids with him, to top it all off he hear her

• After you two had worked on the details and found information for your project you began stretching

“We should take a break.”

• You nodded and stood up tucking hair behind your ear, he followed your actions and for the first time today Kuroo noticed how undeniably pretty you looked.

• The flowers surrounding you only made it so much harder on him, you dressed in all pastel. You looked like a goddess to him.

“Kuroo? You okay?”

• He looked to the side, your face dangerously close to his.

“U-uhm.”

• Neither of you moved a muscle, for the first time again Kuroo could see your eyes and the deep patterns that ran in them.

• And you, you could see everything in his eyes. Your heartbeat could be heard in your ears, he could probably hear it too.

• You both weren’t sure if it was your heartbeat or the others beating so loudly, but everything seemed still

• Like the flowers stopped moving in the wind, and your pages to your books stopped fluttering, the only thing on Kuroos mind was how beautiful you looked, looking up at him through your long lashes

• And the only thing on yours were how his eyes focused so intensely on yours, like he could read how you felt about him so easily

• If you hadn’t known any better, your faces inched closer, it felt like it wasn’t 2 minutes but 2 hours spent looking at each other

• As Kuroo’s phone went off signaling a call, he smiled at you breaking eye contact and apologizing

• After hanging up he packed his things, and swung his bag over his shoulder

“I gotta go, but we can continue our project later this week.”

“Of course.”

“Oh! Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll see you at my game tomorrow?”

• You fiddled with your hands, and nodded to which he smiled and walked out waving bye

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

“You’re going, but if you don’t come back with a man on your arm you aren’t coming home until you have one.”

• You slightly winced at your moms joke, what a crazy woman. You never knew who the teenager was between you two.

• You sat at the back of the bleachers, hoping you went by unnoticed by everyone

“Maybe he didn’t want me to come... he could have invited other girls here... oh gosh.”

• Your mind made up every excuse in the book, you stood up and began walking towards the exit

“Leaving already? I couldn’t find you.”

• You froze looking back at Kuroo, who smiled at you as he approached

“I was just-“

“Overthinking? I noticed. You made that same face yesterday when you over thought the conclusion question.”

• You blushed and looked away making him laugh, gosh why was his laugh even so perfect

• Kuroo placed an arm around you, leading you back to the bleachers. You were about to speak when he was yanked away

“Gosh Kuroo, you’re finally all lovesick and it makes you forget the game is about to start?”

• Lovesick? You watched Yaku pull him away and apologize to which you signaled to him it was alright

• You sat back in the bleachers, this time more in the front and enjoyed the game

• As it ended and you waited for Kuroo, you fiddled with your fingers.

• Happily, Kuroo walked over to you and stopped, wether it be the happiness of winning the game or just some adrenaline he spoke:

“I really have the urge to kiss you right now. I have since yesterday.”

• Without another word you stood on your tippy toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips, he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around your waist pulling you closer

“I knew it! Yamamoto you owe me 20 bucks.”

“Gosh dang it Kuroo! Can’t you keep it in your pants like usual!”

• You both laughed and pulled away looking at the team while Yamamoto and Yaku argued, and Lev and Inuoka’s eyes were being covered, Kenma simply staring at his game

“Bye the way Kuroo, my mom wont let me come home unless you come with me.”

“Huh?”

“She said if I don’t come back with a man on my arm, I can’t come home.”

“That’s bold coming from someone who said no grandkids.”

• Your face burned with Embarrassment as he laughed even louder

“Too bad y/n, Kuroo’s not a man. Looks like you can’t go home.”

“Shut up Kenma.”

Akaashi:

• It was a usual Sunday morning, you moved silently through the floral café. The bright sun shone through and illuminated the whole store.

• You made the usual coffee, and heard the door ding right when you finished

• You placed the coffee on the counter, and cash made its way to replace the counter, and a tip going in the jar

• And that’s your Sunday morning regular, you stay at the stool and prepared your own coffee.

•Sunday mornings were usually slow, everyone sleeping in on their day off.

• As you drank your own coffee, you read the book in your hand, sitting at the usual stool behind the counter

• You heard nervous tapping, as you looked up your noticed the black haired boy look away and his foot tapping on the floor immediately stop.

• You picked up your things and walked over to his booth, sitting with him

“Do you mind some company?”

“No, not at all.”

• You nodded and opened your book back up to pick up where you left off

“Is that book good?”

• Your eyes lit up and you nodded handing it to him so he could look at it and read the back.

“Wow...”

“I could lend it to you, it’s my favorite.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

• He handed you his book

“Then a trade, y/n.”

• You picked up his book and skimmed through it.

“A trade, Akaashi.”

• He nodded smiling at you, after 3 months of coming to the same coffee shop, the routine of small talk built up to him trading a book

• As the bell dinged, he watched you apologized, to which he shook his head signaling an okay, and watched you walk away.

• Everything about this Sunday morning light seemed to have you looking more angelic than normal to him.

• You occasionally shot him a smile and went on making on coffee orders, only to pick up his book to continue reading

• But you knew, this was only a Sunday thing. The moment he went back to being the cute setter boy at school, you two would walk past each other wordlessly.

• Akaashi stood up, about time he usually leaves and approached the counter purchasing a few white flowers.

“And who’s the lucky person these are for?”

“For you.”

• You blushed holding them to your chest

“You work with flowers and coffee all day, I doubt you ever get any of the flowers.”

• He smiled before walking out of the store leaving you speechless

“What a MAN!”

• You turn to your boss who smirked leaning against the doorway

“If you don’t get at him, you are officially a psycho.”

“No I’m not!”

“As your boss I say you look cuter tomorrow and catch his attention.”

• You huff and nodded as they shooed you out of the store.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

• You walked into school, and if you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn everyone’s eyes were on you

• And who could blame them, your usual ponytail was down, your cheeks rosier and your lips glimmering in the light of the hallway at school

• You walked down the hallway opening your book, well Akaashi’s, and read through it.

• You looked up to see Akaashi talking to a very hyper Bokuto

• He looked at you, eyes widening, but he didn’t stop walking nor looking at you.

• You continued walking, disappointed that he didn’t talk to you, but went on.

• Hearing a crash you looked back:

“Akaashi!!! What were you doing?!”

• You saw Akaashi rubbing his head on the ground and Bokuto standing over him

• You picked up Akaashi’s things while Bokuto helped him up

“Oh! You’re y/n!”

• You looked at Bokuto who smiled at you, you stood up nodding

“You’re Bokuto.”

• He nodded eagerly while looking at Akaashi and smirking

“Well I got to get to class. You know, third year things.”

“Bokuto what are you talking about? You never willingly go to cl-“

• Without letting Akaashi speak another word he sprinted down the hall leaving you two alone

“Here’s your things.”

“Oh! Yeah thanks!”

• You nodded and handed him his things, while you two began walking to class together

“This is the first time we’ve talked in school.”

“Yeah, despite seeing each other every Sunday we never speak outside of the shop.”

• He nods before you guys continued with a comfortable silence

“How’s the book?”

“Oh amazing!”

• As you rambled on about the book Akaashi admired the way you excitedly spoke about it, he couldn’t help but smile at you

• You stopped speaking and smiled at him fiddling with the end of your school skirt/pants

“I want to go out with you. Somewhere besides the shop and school.”

• You smiled and leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek

“I’d like that.”

• He watched as you walked to your own class, excited about what the future held with your date

“Akaashi!”

“Bokuto-San? I thought you went to class?!”

“Psh, I had to do my job as a ninja and spy on you and y/n. She’s cute huh?”

• Akaashi looked away blushing

“Yeah..”

“Ugh to be young and in love.”

“You’re not much older than me?”

“Silence.”

• Bokuto definitely spied on your date too with Konoha, only for you to catch them and Akaashi get embarrassed

“I can’t with you two.”

“WE can’t with YOU, you haven’t even kissed her!”

“You’re lucky I stopped him from singing kiss the girl from the litte mermaid.”

“I definitely would’ve wanted to be kissed if you two sang that for Akaashi and I.”

• This had Akaashi blushing at your words and pulling you along before the friendship only bloomed more.

Tags:

[dreadhaus-literature]

{January Collection} #26 (Part Two)

Monster ... in the Mirror

A continuation of this prompt.

“Sunday dinner?”

The man known to outsiders as Sheriff Hoyt nodded, resting his forearm on the door to Monica’s motel room. “That’s right, sweetheart. Mama wants to treat ya to some nice southern cookin’ to welcome ya to town.”

Monica had no way of knowing Sheriff “Winston Hoyt” was actually Charlie Sawyer Jr., who had murdered the town’s last remaining law enforcement officer (the former Winston Hoyt) to protect Thomas Hewitt--who she really didn’t know...yet, anyway. No, she was left in the dark to make her decision on accepting good ol’ southern hospitality and there’s probably plenty of sayings about making decisions blind. She wasn’t hearing the warning bells around the Sheriff anymore, and the smile he was giving her was genuine rather than a creepy showing of teeth. She had no idea what had changed his attitude but she could get behind whatever it was, and beyond that, Luda Mae had seemed really nice. Monica took her eyes off the Sheriff, leaning a little out of the room to see if Luda Mae was nearby.

As if picking up Monica’s thought, Hoyt took a step back to show an empty porch. “Sorry honey. Mama’s already at home, cookin’ up a storm. She closed the store early, wanting to whip up somethin’ good for ya.” Hoyt adjusted his belt, rattling his ring of keys as he did so. “Hopin’ that’ll get’cha to consider our offer.”

Monica had no issue with telling people no, she rather enjoyed it given the right circumstance, but she couldn’t really think of a reason to do so at the moment. No, she didn’t know these people and it was entirely possible that taxi driver was going to tell her this was some murderous family of cannibals just waiting to invite her for dinner for her to be dinner, but when Monica locked eyes with Hoyt, she didn’t feel threatened--and no offense to this town or it’s people, but she didn’t think they’d be very good at hiding it if they were intending her harm.

“I...Up to you guys’s house?” Monica shifted on her socked feet.

“The Sawyer house, that’s right,” Hoyt nodded. “You said you wanted some research on small towns and the like, right? For yer book? You could pick our brains. All the Sawyers’ll be there, rich tapestry of folks for ya to talk to.”

That was enticing, and after another few moments Monica nodded with a small but genuine smile. “Okay, I’ll come.”

Hoyt let out a holler, slapping his hands together. “All right! Well all right, that’s great. How long does a pretty li’l thing like you need to get ready?”

Monica was actually already in her pajamas, having planned a long night of writing; her laptop was still out on her bed from when Hoyt had knocked on the door and interrupted--but she didn’t mind this interruption.

“Could you give me fifteen minutes?”

“Oh easily, darlin’, you take as much time as ya need.” Hoyt raised his hands, palm up. “Mama taught me not to rush a lady and you’re a lady if there ever was one. I’ll be in my cruiser parked out of the store again, you just come down when yer ready.”

Monica nodded, stepping back inside to push the door closed, unable to help her widening smile at how excited Hoyt had seemed by her acceptance. She didn’t know why but she could tell he’d been genuinely happy. For whatever reason, her acceptance of going meant a great deal to him and she didn’t get the feeling he thought he’d get lucky or anything. Maybe it was a small town thing, she mused as she walked over to her suitcase, propped open in a chair by the dresser. She didn’t know how long she’d be staying so she hadn’t put anything away in the dresser yet, but it wasn’t a problem to fish out a change of clothes--she didn’t want to put on what she’d arrived in, this seemed...special, and a secret part of her really wanted to wow these small town folks with a touch of her city girl sophistication. January, even in Texas, called for pants instead of shorts but she picked a more free-flowing top, the sapphire fabric a beautiful compliment to her brown skin. The shirt was sleeveless silk, slung lower on the sides and back, and she finished the look with a silver anchor necklace and matching earrings. Ankle strap heels showed off pretty painted toes and then it was into the bathroom to apply makeup that made her eyes pop and her lips look like syrup kissed peaches--since Hoyt and Luda Mae had likened her to one. Perfume was a kiss to her wrists and neck and she admired herself in the mirror as she loosened her short, honey-blonde hair. It was just long enough to style in a messy bun and she let the waves tumble free from the tie to kiss her petite shoulders. She turned this way and that in the mirror, eyes scrutinizing her own appearance but she decided against running a brush through it, opting to finger comb it to leave it a little loose and carefree. It seemed the perfect compliment to the rest of her outfit and she smiled, satisfied with her appearance.

Mirrors don’t always show the best sides of folks, though, and across the dusty Texas town a mirror was showing a man what a monster he really was.

The Sawyer House sat in the center of acres of plains and farmland, home to a multitude of Sawyers at any given time but it was always home to Bubba and Thomas, the latter of whom was glaring into the dingy mirror in the brothers’ shared room. He had his mask off, and he hated it. Thomas often thought himself better than Bubba when it came to his appearance; he thought he handled it better but the truth was neither of them did. The longer Thomas’s dark eyes lingered on his skeletal nose, the deep gouges in his cheeks, the angrier he got.

Bubba lumbered in from the bathroom, one large, pudgy hand rubbing a towel over his wet curls. He was maskless, too, fresh from the bath but he immediately side-stepped the mirror and kept his back to it as he went to his side of the room. Thomas watched him pass, that dark brow knotted at the center.

A grunt. ‘Ain’t you wanna look at yourself?’

A babbled reply. ‘No. I got me a face for tonight. Don’t need to see mine.‘

Thomas turned back to the mirror and immediately wished he hadn’t. He had planned on trying to be brave and go to this special Sunday Dinner without a mask on, but Bubba couldn’t even imagine. Their princess was gonna be there! He had to look his best! And the only way to look his best was to not look like himself! Bubba wasn’t the retard some of the townspeople thought he was; he was a smart boy who knew what he looked like. His nose had long ago rotted off his face, leaving a skeletal hole, and his lips were scarred. His brow bone was a little crooked and his teeth weren’t very pretty, either. He brushed them! Mama made sure he did, every night, but no matter how he pushed on them with his thumbs, he couldn’t get ‘em straight. Bubba also couldn’t...help taking a knife to himself sometimes, trying to cut skin off here and there, even up what the sickness had already done to him, so he had thick, pitted scars on his cheeks and by his eyes. Bubba wasn’t pretty, but he didn’t have to be! His princess was the prettiest of them all, and as long as she never saw how ugly he was, maybe she’d stay and be pretty for him.

Mama had been very clear with both boys; they could wear their masks but no skin, not until Monica was safely part of the family. Thomas and Bubba had been so distracted by learning the princess’s name they had almost missed what Mama said. Thomas felt his heart stammer at the sound and Bubba tried, oh he tried desperately to say her name. He repeated it so many times Mama had to shush him, and she’d made damn sure they both heard what she’d said.

“Now you boys know we love you, but this city girl ain’t used to how we do things ‘round here. Remember the puppy you found in the barn, Bubba? She’s just like that, she’s little and she’s new to us and how we do things, and she might be a little scared the more she learns but you be patient and she’ll love you good and plenty.” Luda Mae wagged her finger between her two hulking sons, her gaze serious. “No skin masks,you put on your Sunday best, and you know how big you both are. Ya gotta be easy when she’s here--and no. chainsaws. No matter what, you leave those in the basement. Y’hear?”

Bubba would have agreed to cut his arm off if it meant Monica would come to dinner, and Thomas was in the same lovesick boat. He liked to pretend he wasn’t listening when Mama was reading Bubba those fairy tales, but at times when he was working, his thick fingers splitting carcasses and stripping flesh from bone, he allowed himself to daydream about princesses, too--

Princesses who love monsters instead of princes.

Charlie, or Hoyt as Monica knows him, gave a deep wolf whistle as she came around the front of the general store, pulling his hat from his head to place over his chest.

“Goddamn, girlie, don’t you look like a million bucks? If you can do that in fifteen minutes you gotta be heaven sent.”

Monica gave a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Just wanted to clean up a little, it’s the least I could do for your family inviting me for dinner.”

Hoyt moved around the front of his cruiser, opening the passenger door for Monica with a cheek-splitting grin. “See, I like that. You got respect for family, and what it means. Mama’s right about you.”

Monica lowered herself into the seat, blinking at that semi-cryptic statement. They’d been...talking about her? On one hand it made sense, they had at least discussed her coming for dinner; still, that didn’t explain the statement away--but as Monica turned to ask Hoyt what he meant, she was met with the closing of the passenger door. She watched Hoyt pass in front of the headlights as he made his way to the driver’s side door, sliding inside with a muted grunt.

“Like I said, honey, the Sawyer house is a little ways outside of town and I’m real sorry, I can’t offer you the radio to listen to or nothin’ like that.” Hoyt shifted the cruiser into reverse, backing out of the spot without even looking--but as the sun was beginning to kiss the horizon, Monica noticed the sleepy, near deserted town seemed devoid of life. This was the main stretch of road and there wasn’t a single car to be seen on it.

“That’s okay, Sheriff.”

“Oh, now, no need to be so formal. You just call me Uncle Hoyt--or hell, Uncle Charlie’s fine.”

Monica’s smile was a touch shy at how forward the offer was, but some part of her liked that offer. It was genuine, and reminded her of his earlier offer to call him if anyone ever gave her any trouble. “Uncle Charlie? ...Think I can do that.”

Charlie’s smile showed teeth as he turned from the windshield toward his unknowing newest family member. “Glad to hear it, honey.”

The two started down the main stretch of road, and it wasn’t long before the buildings fell away and Monica was graced with Texas beauty--flat plains and whispering grass fields high enough to kiss her knees if she stepped into them. The night was balmy but not hot, and Monica was actually grateful there was no radio to interrupt the silence as the wind whipped past the cruiser. Charlie occupied some of the silence by talking, reciting little tidbits of history of the town and a lot more about his family. Monica learned there were dozens upon dozens of Sawyers that all still lived here, though some lived towns over, too. At one point he asked if she wanted to record him with her phone, and it sent a wash of relief through her that he hadn’t done something creepy like tell her to leave her phone behind. When she’d taken her phone out to record him, he’d whistled at how new it was, and when she’d said it was a smartphone, he revealed he was still using a flip phone--and that had been a recent “upgrade” for him. That was the end of the phone conversation and he hadn’t even made a move to take it from her. It further put her at ease that there was no harm headed her way, and the more she relaxed, the more she enjoyed the ride and the company along for it.

It was about twenty minutes before the plains broke and Monica watched a sprawling house settle in the center of them; it looked huge even from a distance, three stories tall with old southern plantation pillars in the front that complimented a nice screened in porch. The road leading up to the house was dirt, but it only added to the rustic feel of the place and as the cruiser came to a stop, Monica could only marvel at the people she saw in front. There were a multitude of boys ranging in ages from adult to under 10 years old playing football in the yard, while older women and men were sitting in rocking chairs and swings on the porch. All of them stopped what they were doing when the cruiser pulled up, one of the older boys winding up getting clocked on the side of the head with the football but he didn’t even seem to notice, too busy staring at the pretty girl in the front of Uncle Charlie’s cruiser.

Charlie gave the entirety of the family warning look as he crossed the front of the cruiser to open the door for Monica, and she could barely place her hand in his to let him help her out, stunned by all the attention she was getting.

“D-Don’t get a lot of visitors?” She tried for a playful laugh, too busy looking up at Charlie to notice some of the Sawyers smile just from the sound of her laugh.

“It’s way more than that, sweetheart,” Charlie led her away from the cruiser with a smile full of secrets. “But why don’t ya just take that it’s you lookin’ so pretty in your little outfit?”

Monica could hardly focus on his words; there were so many Sawyers! She counted over a dozen, between the kids in the yard and the adults coming down off the porch. She gave them a nervous smile, lifting her free hand to wave and nearly laughed at how adorable it was--all of them waved back.

“Hi pretty lady!” Near her waist, two twin boys who couldn’t be older than ten, dressed nicely but a little dirty from playing in the yard, stuck their hands up in excited waves, hoping to catch her attention. “You look like the ladies in the magazines!”

“Oh, t-thank you,” Monica gave them a smile, one that ended in a surprised noise as one of the boys grabbed into her hand, rubbing his cheek against the back of it.

“Soft,” he openly hugged her arm a second later. “You smell like candy!”

“Enough, both of ya.” Charlie leaned around, and Monica could tell he was an authority figure in the family immediately by the way the boys reacted, eyes widening and stumbling back from her so fast one of them fell over onto his butt. “Mama told you boys about behavin’ tonight.”

“They’re okay, U-Uncle Charlie,” Monica placated, and Charlie seemed to settle down immediately, his weathered face softening and he nodded, before turning to face the onlooking Sawyers.

“...Aight, well. Let that be a lesson to all of ya, Monica here has full authority to tell me if any of ya get up to shit, and you don’t want Mama or the boys to find out you’re messin’ with her, do ya?”

There were murmurs that sounded worried as the adult shook their heads, and the kids were too scared to even look up from the ground. Monica didn’t know how to take this; she still didn’t feel threatened, but this was a family who had a strange sort of hierarchy when it came to listening--as if there were severe consequences for not--and it was the second time she’d heard some alluding to “boys”. The first time had been what changed Charlie’s entire personality and now it left a yard full of grown men and women afraid of their own shadows. Who the hell were the boys?

“Ma says dinner won’t be ready for a little while,” one of the women spoke up, a blond baby on her hip. “Can we visit with Monica a little, before it’s time?”

“Well now, I guess I don’t see why not.” Charlie looked down at Monica. “You okay to talk to everybody?”

Monica glanced around the inquisitive, but oddly happy faces--they all seemed so overjoyed she was there, and she couldn’t help but attribute it to not having visitors often. She couldn’t accept Charlie’s explanation that it was because of her, specifically, that was too much and left her with nervous butterflies in her ribs.

“Sure,” she nodded with a demure smile, unaware it melted a few hearts in the enraptured crowd. “I’d love to get to know you all.”

The resounding excitement brought a little blush to Monica’s cheeks; they were so ecstatic just to get to talk to her! Even the kids crowded up onto the porch as the adults led her up the stairs, the little ones vying to sit on the floor by her feet to hear everything she had to say.

Charlie got her settled before he gestured toward the front door. “I’m gonna go check see if Mama needs any help. You remember what I said?”

“Give a holler if I need you,” Monica nodded, a little distracted by one of the women holding her hand, marveling at her manicured nails. She managed to give Charlie a smile. “I will.”

“Good girl.” Charlie gave a last warning look around the clan before he walked into the open front door, already smelling the feast cooking in the kitchen.

It was no surprise, finding Bubba in the kitchen beside his Mama, thick, nervous fingers chopping up vegetables for the stew pot simmering on one of the burners. Luda Mae was sweating over two other burners, and Charlie could smell a ham baking to a fine honeyed glaze in the oven below. It was definitely a special occasion when the Sawyers put aside their cannibalistic tendencies to appear more normal to impress someone, and Luda Mae’s words from earlier had resonated with everyone. This was a very special occasion.

“Monica’s here,” Charlie announced as he stepped inside the bustling kitchen; as he passed the threshold he finally caught a glimpse of Tommy ducking into the adjacent dining room, setting the table with Nubbins.

Bubba made a nervous noise at that announcement, his hands flying from the cutting board to his curls, smoothing them around the rubber Halloween mask covering his scarred face. It was pale and expressionless, but it fit his face well and he decorated it with a little bit of make-up--because that’s what you do when you wanna look pretty! In his fretting, Bubba forgot he was holding his knife and it got caught in his curls...which only distressed him further, leaving him blubbering and on the verge of tears. He was going to ruin everything with Monica right outside!

A sigh announced Tommy was back in the kitchen and he caught Bubba’s thick wrist, stopping the older male from harming himself. His other hand unwound the knife from those thick, shiny curls, freshly washed just for their princess. Tommy was the only one in the family tall enough to be of any help to Bubba; the two locked shoulders and shared the same muscle mass and it was lucky they got along so well, because no one had a hope or a prayer of stopping them if they got into it. But there was nothing to be had but brotherly affection between them, as Tommy smoothed a rough hand over Bubba’s curls, fixing them for his nervous older brother, before grunting.

‘All better. Be careful.’

Bubba nodded, babbling wordlessly behind his mask. ‘Nervous, I’m nervous!’

‘She’s not going to leave. Mama promised.’

Bubba fitted his hands to his masked cheeks. ‘What if she hates me? What if she hates us? No one ever stays, no one ever stays long.’

‘She will. Mama says princesses do what’s right.’

‘She can’t leave, we won’t let her leave.’

Tommy nodded once. ‘We won’t. She’ll stay.’

“Well shit, Mama, does that ever not amaze you?” Charlie rested his hip against the island counter, plucking up a strawberry from a bowl as he gestured between Bubba and Tommy. “They just...talk like that. Grunts and babblin’. Sometimes I think they’re more advanced than we are.”

“Because they are,” Luda Mae gave Charlie’s hand a smack as he reached for a second strawberry. “These are for the table. Stop bein’ a hog and go put your suit on.”

Charlie blanched. “Why I gotta get changed? She already done seen me in this and I look mighty sharp in my uniform, Ma.”

Luda Mae snorted, waving a hand as she turned back to the oven to baste the glistening ham. “I ain’t arguin’ this with you, git upstairs and change.”

Charlie grumbled, before stealing another three strawberries from the bowl under the watchful gaze of Bubba and Thomas. Bubba blubbered at him, before patting Ma’s shoulder to tattle; Tommy just stared.

“Charlie Sawyer Junior if you don’t git--”

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’! Goddamnit, woman.”

Luda Mae shook her head, before turning to look up at her sons, who were staring down at her. Some folks might not think they’re much to look at, but Luda Mae felt they cleaned up real nice. Bubba’s hair was something to be proud of; his curls were thick and dark, bouncy like his personality and his painted mask complimented his black suit. His white button-up shirt was immaculate and she’d seen him being extra careful not to spill anything on it, wanting to be his very best for Monica. This was the equivalent of the boys’ first date, after all, and Tommy may be more reserved of the two but it was apparent he’d done the same careful preparation. Tommy’s suit was brown, but he skipped the jacket and opted for suspenders instead, and a tan bow-tie matched the half-mask of leather that he only wore on special occasions. It allowed his mouth free for eating but kept his nose and cheeks covered and gave him the confidence to be okay meeting Monica face to face--even if his stomach was full of butterflies. Bubba’s entire torso was full of them, if anyone cared to know.

“You boys are gonna be just fine.” Luda Mae gave Bubba’s masked cheek a pat, before that same hand patted Tommy’s shoulder. “You two go sit, pick out a seat where she can sit between ya. The family’ll be comin’ in soon and you know Chop Top and Nubbins can’t be trusted not to try and take her.”

Tommy grunted in annoyance at that, nearly shoved into the hall as Bubba started for the dining room--he was not about to let that happen!

When Charlie came outside to collect the family for dinner, he found Monica was still where he’d left her, surrounded by the entirety of the Sawyer clan (a few more had arrived after they did but hadn’t even come inside, wanting to meet the newest member of the family) and Monica had one of the toddlers on her lap, the little girl all smiles up at Monica.

“C’mon, y’all. Time for dinner.”

Charlie was patient as Monica handed the reluctant toddler back to her mother, the baby making a few fussy noises and trying to cling on. As soon as Monica’s hands were free, the twin boys from before latched onto them, trying to drag her toward the door.

“Come on, you can sit with us!”

“No way in hell,” Charlie just about spat out. “You youngins are all sittin’ at the kid’s table, where ya always sit. Monica here’s sitting between Bubba and Tommy.”

Monica glanced up at Charlie even as the boys continued to drag her, not at all deterred by this news. Bubba and Tommy? She didn’t think she’d met them, though she’d met so many Sawyers tonight it would likely be hard to tell. Charlie just gave her a wink as he followed her in, the boys leading her to the dining room where the Sawyers were all talking and laughing as they settled around a large dining table. It was buffet-style long, designed to to hold a family this size, and though Monica could only glance around a little, she could see the house complimented it’s rustic country surroundings--but it wasn’t dirty. She could still smell the cleaning products in the air; fresh country air filtered in from open windows and coupled with everyone looking well-dressed (even Uncle Charlie had changed!) Monica could piece together they really had done all of this just for her arrival. She had...no idea why they had, but she couldn’t deny it made her feel special--a sentiment that only grew as the entire family stood when she entered the dining room. She was so distracted with the little boys clutching at her fingers she hadn’t noticed everyone else had gone inside, and she could appreciate the size of this family.

“Sawyer Clan, this is the little peach I was tellin’ you about,” Luda Mae, from her spot at the head of the table, gestured with a mother’s pride. “Monica. Monica, these are your Sawyers.”

The reception of her was full of boisterous cheers and hello’s, of clapping and excited smiles, so that Monica missed Luda Mae’s deliberate wording of your Sawyers. She couldn’t get the boys to let go of her hands to wave, they were stuck like glue to her, but she ducked her head with a smile. “N-Nice to meet you all. Thank you so much for all this, for inviting me over.”

Bubba and Thomas were rooted to the floor as Monica spoke, addressing their family but each man was fine to imagine she was talking to them alone. As she swept the room with eyes greener than summer sun through a gemstone, when she looked at them her gaze did linger. Bubba sucked in a sharp breath, steeling himself for her to recoil in horror, readying his heart to shatter, and Tommy braced himself to lumber after her if she ran--but she didn’t. She stared at them, questions flitting over her beautiful, expressive face but she didn’t recoil and she didn’t look at them with disgust. Her smile didn’t even waver; in fact, it deepened, and Bubba felt tears prick the back of his eyes. Tommy had to look down. He didn’t deserve such a pretty smile, but he wasn’t going to let it out of his sight again.

“Boys, take Monica to her seat, if’n you please,” Luda Mae gestured to the boys clinging to Monica’s hands and they nodded with a simultaneous--

“Yes, Grandma.”

Monica allowed the boys to lead her around the curve of the table, her smile showing teeth as she passed Luda Mae, who gave her an affectionate pat on the back. Every Sawyer went out of their way to move out of her way, gracious as they gestured or introduced themselves if they hadn’t had the pleasure to meet her outside, and Monica finally, finally got to know who Bubba and Tommy were as she was led to the empty seat between two...extremely tall, stocky men. The only two men at the table wearing masks. Monica glanced up between them with a nervous flip in her tummy but as she approached, the one in the full face mask immediately pulled her chair out for her and she caught sight of his hand shaking. Was he...Was he nervous? Monica couldn’t imagine what a man so big could have to be nervous about; the hand that pulled out her chair looked capable of driving a nail into a board with a single punch.

“Thank you,” Monica gave the little boys’ hands a squeeze as they finally let her go, but she had a feeling she’d be seeing them again before the night was over. They had certainly taken a shine to her. She then turned up to the man who’d pulled out her chair. “And t-thank you.”

“That’s Bubba,” Luda Mae called from her seat. “You may hear us callin’ him Jed, but he prefers Bubba.”

The male at her other side helped Monica into her seat, pulling her up to the table with one arm and Monica was once again left marveling at the strength these two hefted around with obvious ease.

“And that’s Thomas,” Luda Mae settled into her seat with that same motherly smile. “Can call him Tommy if you like. Charlie always does.”

Charlie shot Monica a wink from his spot to Luda Mae’s right.

“N-Nice to meet you, Bubba,” Monica turned her smile up to the male in the full mask, not missing the excited babble that drifted out from behind the latex.

“The boys cain’t talk much, but that don’t mean they won’t try.” Charlie laughed as he reached for one of the bottles of beer at the center of the table. “Bubba there’ll babble your damn ear off. Tommy just grunts.”

Monica turned to Tommy, nearly having to look away at the way he was staring at her. That half-mask was way more intimidating than Bubba’s mask; it reminded her a little of Hannibal Lector’s mask, but the more she looked at Tommy, the more his eyes softened behind the leather and she felt herself relax in turn. She’d already seen Bubba’s boyish brown eyes resembled a little boy’s under the mask he wore; despite their intimidating presence and appearance, the two didn’t seem to mean her any harm.

“T-Thank you, too, Tommy.”

Tommy nodded once, his eyes on her lips as she spoke.

“Well now, y’all go on ahead and dig in--boys, why don’t you serve our guest?”

Luda Mae’s blessing got the food started around, and Monica could only watch, a little speechless, as Bubba and Tommy both reached for a different plate; Tommy picked up the ham, serving her more than she could ever hope to eat--she had no way of knowing he thought she looked like she needed to eat--and Bubba was double-fisting two different plates of assorted vegetables. As the boys worked in tandem, Monica watched as her dinner plate, salad plate, and soup bowl were all filled to the point of over-flowing with hearty southern favorites sure to leave her way, way full and probably a little sleepy. To top the meal off, Bubba poured Monica a glass of pink lemonade from a pitcher, only spilling it a little on account of he was so nervous in front of such a pretty girl.

“Way to go, retard.”

Monica sat forward a little to look down the table at the culprit behind such an insult, locking eyes with someone she knew was called Chop Top. The insult had affected Bubba immediately; he nearly dropped the entire pitcher, only just managing to set it down, babbling incoherent apologies toward Monica for his mess. She couldn’t see, but he was beginning to cry beneath his mask, absolutely terrified him spilling a little lemonade was going to be the thing that ran her off. Princesses deserve perfect! Stupid, stupid Bubba!

“That’s not very nice,” Monica chided Chop Top, unable to stop herself from speaking up. It may not be her place, but she felt...not sorry, for the two men at her side, but she knew they didn’t deserve to be called names. “Haven’t you ever spilled anything in your life?”

Chop Top opened his mouth to reply--not to snap, but to give her a taste of Sawyer vulgarity at how many times he spilled himself earlier at the thought of her--but Charlie cleared his throat the head of the table and Chop Top’s teeth clacked together at how quick he snapped his mouth shut. He’d only insulted Bubba as an attempt to get Monica to notice him; he’d risked the folly of his entire family for just a little bit of attention. Was it worth it? ...Yeah, it was.

“It’s okay, Bubba.” Monica placed a hand on Bubba’s trembling hand; it was so much larger she nearly lost her train of thought. He was trying to clean up the lemonade around her glass, but his fingers were shaking so badly he wasn’t much use for it. “Here.”

Bubba went still as Monica gently guided his hand to dab up the spilled liquid and the entirety of the table fell away. All the Sawyers were busy talking, eating, but Bubba couldn’t focus on anything other than Monica was touching him. He’d held a flower once or twice in his life; he remembered the petals being soft, and that was what her touch reminded him of. Love at first sight was too weak a description for this boy; he was head over heels already, his breath coming in short gasps because he wasn’t used to what he was feeling. No one...no one ever touched him. He was starving for affection and had no way of knowing it until she touched him, and as the lemonade was cleaned up, she let go of his hand and he couldn’t stop the blubbering, desperate noise he made. She looked up at him in surprise.

“A...Are you okay?” Her hand replaced itself on his arm and he calmed down, giving her a nod. Her smile returned and she gave his arm a pat. “Good.”

“The boys ain’t retards,” Charlie spoke up from his spot, pride in his tone--nothing to do with the boys not being slow, and everything to do with Monica standing up for them. Luda Mae’s smile was wide enough to show teeth. “They got a little bit of a disease, is all. Doctors told us it’s name years ago, said it’s uh...” Charlie snapped his fingers a few times. “Oh hell, what was the word?”

“Generated,” Monty spoke up from the other end of the table, lifting a forkful of green beans into his mouth.

Charlie shook his head. “Naw, that wasn’t it. Close, but started with a D.”

“...Degenerative?” Monica ventured.

“That’s the one!” Charlie snapped his fingers, pointing to her. “Degenerative. S’why they’ve got those masks on, their faces just don’t look right. They ain’t pretty to look at, mind, but they’re good boys.”

Monica risked another glance up at Bubba, then Tommy--who paused with a bite near his mask...which had some errant mashed potatoes on it. She laughed lightly, taking her napkin from her lap to gently clean it off. He sat like a statue as she did, and she watched his eyes flutter closed.

He desperately, in that moment, wished he was a handsome prince--he hated that he couldn’t feel her touch his skin because of the mask he hid behind.

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Monica lowered her napkin, looking back up at Charlie and Luda Mae. “That can’t be easy, but...they definitely seem like good boys.”

Bubba made a happy noise behind his mask at the compliment, and Tommy gave her a small smile she could see behind the leather covering his face. This...was definitely the strangest dinner party she’d ever been to, but Monica couldn’t say she wasn’t enjoying herself and the company.

Dinner took nearly two hours before anyone was even remotely finished; conversations kept people from eating, too busy gabbing and wanting to be the one to tell Monica about this or that--and she had so many questions herself to answer that she could barely keep up. The Sawyers, especially Bubba and Tommy, were so interested in every single thing she had to say. Bubba had pushed for her to talk at length about all the books she’s written, and when Tommy found out she could draw, he had to turn to get his Mama to tell Monica he wanted her to draw him just a little something so he could keep it. Of course, Bubba immediately wanted one, too! Monica had laughed a little shyly, explaining she’d left her sketchbook back at the motel but that she’d be happy to draw them both something and bring it back? That seemed to make them both over the moon happy. She thought it was simply the promise of a drawing, but the fact of the matter was...it meant she’d be coming back to see them again.

“But...what would you like me to draw?”

Tommy and Bubba had exchanged glances, before Tommy reached out, pointing at Monica’s chest. She furrowed her brow, as Bubba seemed to nod and agree.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t--”

“They want a drawing of you, honey.” Luda Mae offered, her elbows resting on the table as she smiled. “Probably wanna hang it up in their room.”

Monica blushed prettily. “A-Are you sure?”

Tommy nodded once; Bubba hadn’t stopped nodding since he started. Monica could draw herself, she’d done it a few times before, but shyness was making her a little self-conscious--and in that moment, she realized she wasn’t the only one who was.

“How...How about I take a picture with you two? And I’ll draw it, and you can hang that up?”

Neither Tommy nor Bubba had had their photos taken since they were in diapers; at least, not willingly. Some mean tourists had snapped some photos of the pair when they were pre-teens, but that was the very last time. Bubba lowered his hands in his lap, wringing them nervously, and Tommy was staring at his plate. Monica’s assumption had been right; their self-esteem issues were through the roof, but she knew this could be helpful! And she didn’t know why, but some part of her wanted to help them.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! You can leave your masks on.” Monica gave Tommy’s hand an encouraging pat, turning to Bubba. “Your make-up looks so pretty, don’t you want to see what it looks like?”

Bubba nodded, blubbering quietly. He would have agreed to anything she said, really, and Tommy may seem stoic but he was in the same boat.

“Well lookit that.” Charlie whistled lowly, replacing the toothpick in his mouth with a fresh one. “Boys ain’t taken a picture in years.”

“They just ain’t had a good reason to.” Luda Mae gestured with a smile. “Why don’t y’all take it out on the porch? It’s quieter out there, and it’ll give us time to clear and get the dessert on the table.”

Monica nodded, and Tommy pulled her chair out for her, both men standing as she did; she hadn’t forgotten how tall they were, was difficult to when she’d been sitting beside them all evening, but they all but towered over her the moment they straightened up. It gave a curious stirring of butterflies in her tummy all over again, and she nearly forgot to grab her phone from her purse before stepping away from the table, following Bubba toward the front door, Tommy lumbering at her back. She didn’t pull away when he reached over to take her hand--whether or not it was forward, or appropriate, Monica found she couldn’t care about that. There was something about these two that seemed to subvert social norms; she wasn’t in a big city, she wasn’t needing to put on airs or worry about what was right or what was wrong. Tommy held her hand like one would a glass figurine, as if she were breakable, and there was something so sweet about that she just couldn’t care why he wanted to hold it in the first place.

Out on the porch, the Texas night was a blanket of darkness littered with starlight, and the full moon cast the plains in an ethereal gloom. The sun was long gone and took with it it’s warmth and Monica immediately shivered, unable to believe she hadn’t thought to bring a jacket--

Immediately, Bubba shrugged out of his suit jacket, slipping it around her shoulders with a soft, caring noise. His large, roughly calloused hands gave her arms a rub--a little roughly, as if he wasn’t used to being gentle, but Tommy grunted at him and his touch softened.

Monica gave him a smile. “Thank you, Bubba. It’s very warm.”

It smelled like him, too; like a home-cooked meal, still hot and ready, and it warmed her even as her skin lost some of it’s chill. Monica unlocked her phone, and was immediately aware of Tommy and Bubba curiously crowding close--she should have realized they...probably have never seen a smartphone before. She couldn’t be sure, she’d only caught a glimpse, but she was pretty sure the TV in the living room still had rabbit ears.

“Oh, my phone? Do you boys have a phone?”

Bubba immediately shook his head, babbling as he did so. Tommy was silent as he shook his, too.

“Well, maybe one day you’ll get one!” Monica couldn’t help saying that; she wasn’t...sure they could even read, but the way their eyes both lit up was worth telling them anything was possible. They were the biggest men she’d ever seen, but there was something so sweet and innocent about them, as if they were little boys wrapped up in a very tough, scary exterior.

Monica was so new, she had no way of knowing this was solely because of her. These two boys, while their family treated them well enough, most days, had never really known kindness. They’d been bullied out of school at a young age, so no they weren’t able to read or really write. They couldn’t talk, so most assumed they were retarded, slow--and their appearance made them ugly. Hideous monsters that hid out in their family’s basement, preying on passersby with chainsaws and gnashing teeth. They had their fair share of violence and death, they knew all of life’s hardships and had eaten at the table of suffering with seconds and some might even say thirds. What they needed now was exactly what every monster in a fairy tale needs--a princess. Someone soft, beautiful, angelic and kind, to chase away bad dreams from childhood torment and to make the monster in the mirror a little easier to look at. Neither Tommy nor Bubba were comfortable with the idea of showing Monica who they really were beneath their masks, not yet--but it wasn’t because they didn’t want to. She was the nicest person they’d ever met, and they’d gladly do just about anything she asked--they just couldn’t imagine she’d look at them the same way once she saw their faces. No one ever had, but these two were suffering from the same problem all monsters in fairy tales suffer from; a lack of hope from being let down time and time again. It had taken time to sow those terrible wounds, and it would take time to undo them. The boys were convinced Monica would be the one to do that...perhaps, sadly for her, she’d never have another choice. The moment they’d laid eyes on her it sealed her fate. The boys may not be slow, but they ain’t all there upstairs, either. Now that they were convinced she was the princess from their fairy tales, she’d never truly be away from them again.

But...maybe that wasn’t so bad?

As Tommy and Bubba bent their spines, resting their cheeks against Monica’s for a picture, Monica didn’t feel the least bit worried or scared. The picture came out beautifully; her smile was something neither of the boys could look away from, but all she could see was that, beneath their masks, Tommy and Bubba were smiling, too.

All fairy tales have to start somewhere, and not all of them are going to start, or even end, the same. That story, with the handsome prince on his faithful steed, that’s been done to death. Maybe it’s finally the monsters’ turn to get the girl of their dreams.

Yeah, that’s not so bad, after all.

[kaunis-sielu]

The Mailbox

You were used to the motorcycles that rolled past your little house. It was the price you paid for living down the street from the second-in-command of the Howlies. But it kept you safe, safer than one might think and from what you’d seen of the man he’d been pretty nice to look at too.

It had been late fall when you’d bought the house and now that it was solidly spring you were finally able to get outside and plant some flowers. You’ve got a bandanna tied around your head, the ends on the top of your head and your hair in a messy ponytail. It’s nice enough for some lulu Capri pants and a T-shirt. You’re going to be gardening after all, you need to be able to move, you lug the bag of soil out of the garage and then bring out the flowers you bought last weekend. Mostly colorful daisies, a few marigolds and some white jasmine. You’d drawn out how you wanted them in the box so now it was just weeding, digging and planting.

The weeding takes around an hour. It’s annoying but also strangely satisfying to see the five gallon bucket full of weeds. You head inside for some lemonade and when you head back out you plop down on the grass. Face tilted up toward the sun as you lean back on your hands, your knees are bent with your feet planted on the ground, your phone playing the latest And That’s Why We Drink podcast episode. You hear a motorcycle roaring up the street toward you, it slows slightly as it takes the curve before your house, they never go too fast which is nice. You’d hate for someone to get hurt. The motorcycle passes by your house then the driver shouts, “Fuck!” His yell is followed by a crash and your eyes fly open.

Looking toward the street you’re astonished to see a bike now in your front yard. One rider still straddling the monster trying to get your mailbox out from underneath it.

“Holy shit are you okay?” You cry jumping up and hurrying toward him. He revs the engine causing you to squeak in surprise as he tries again to get the mailbox out from under the bike. “Hey!” You yell over the noise of the engine finally getting his attention.

Holy shit. He’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen. You knew he was good looking from the times he’s cruised by but you weren’t prepared for this.

“Are you okay?” You repeat and he nods but you can see the blood sliding down his face.

“I’m fine. I’m more worried about your mailbox and my bike.”

“You’re bleeding.” You point out and he touches the spot on his head. “Stay here I’ll go get my first aid kit.”

“I’m fine Darlin. Thanks though.”

“You’re bleeding. I know you’ve probably got like a reputation to uphold or something but you kinda owe me. You’ve taken out my mailbox and put a really nice rut into my front yard.” You point out and he looks a bit embarrassed. “Stay here. Or I will come down to your place and administer first aid there.”

“Yes ma’am.” He says with a small chuckle. You head inside not sure if you’re going to have to follow through on your threat or not.

Once you get back outside you’re pleased to see he’s still in your yard. He’s managed to get the mailbox and it’s post out from under his bike. His bike is now parked in front of your house and he’s frowning at the mark he’s made through your yard.

“Alright, let me see that cut.” You tell him and he turns to face you. Slipping on the gloves you pull out some gauze and an alcohol wipe. “Sorry if this stings-“ you trail off hoping you’ll get his name.

“Bucky.” He smiles as you tend to the cut on his forehead. You introduce yourself and he repeats your name softly. “How long have you lived here?” He asks as you press the gauze to the cut.

“Six months or so. I’m a teacher at Birchwood Elementary.” He’s not going to need stitches but head wounds bleed forever. “What happened?”

“What?”

“When you hit my mailbox.”

“Oh, cat ran across the road.” He seems distracted, and you risk a glance into those bright blue eyes. His pupils don’t seem to be dilated.

“Orange tabby?” You ask focusing back on the cut on his head.

“Yea. Yours?”

“No, I’m more of a dog person. It’s Mr. Nelson’s, blue house three down. You didn’t hit it did you?”

“No Darlin’ just your mailbox.”

“I’m fine with sacrificing my mailbox for Mr. Nelson’s cat.” You give him a smile, “Can you tell me what day it is?” He can. He also knows how old he is, his address and what month it is so you’re satisfied that he doesn’t have a concussion.

“If you wanted to get to know me Doll all you had to do was ask.” He flirts and you laugh.

You remove the gauze after a few more minutes, he’s not bleeding anymore.

“You’re good to go Bucky. Thanks for humoring me.”

“You were a great nurse, next time I cut myself I’m coming over.”

“You’re welcome to stop by anytime.” You offer, you like him. He’s sweet, charming and funny, and you could use more friends outside of school.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll be back tomorrow to fix that mailbox.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wanted a new one anyway, it’s already in the garage so really you’ve saved me work.” He doesn’t look like he believes you but when you assure him again he nods.

“Thanks again Darlin.”

You nod and after throwing away the supplies you’d used get back to gardening.

Two days later you’re headed down the road toward your house when you notice a big black motorcycle sitting on the street in front of it. Bucky is just finishing setting up the mailbox, the post is in the ground, and the box is no longer a plain black box. Instead someone has painted it to match the flowers in the flower bed. You pull into the garage and see that the mailbox you’d purchased is gone. You know you shut your garage door.

“Bucky,” You call making your way down the driveway. He grins up at you, “You really didn’t need to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

“Did you paint it too?”

“Steve did. He’s always been artsy and I figured this would be a bit nicer than that plain box.”

“It’s beautiful. Tell him thank you.” He throws the last of the dirt back into the hole and stomps it down.

“Done.” He goes to leave when you place a hand on his arm.

“How did you get that out of my garage?”

“Darlin, a little garage door isn’t much of a challenge. You should order a security system if you’re livin in there alone. The Howlies won’t always be enough to protect you.”

“I always lock the doors.”

“I could get past those too. I never would unless it was an emergency but that doesn’t mean Hydra won’t.” Your blood runs cold at the thought and a chill runs down your spine. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t mean to scare ya doll.”

“No, I need to be reminded. It’s just, safe, here not like the city so I forget that it’s still not safe.”

“I could-“ he stops but when you look up at him you’re surprised by the intensity of his gaze, “I could come check on you. Every now and then.”

“I’d like that.”

This starts a pattern, for the first month or so he stops by twice a week. Sometimes staying for dinner, other times having to deal with ‘business’ and just making sure you’re okay before he does so. Then it becomes three or four nights a week, and before you know it he’s at your place most nights.

One night he comes bursting into your place, you’d given him a key a couple months back so he’d stop picking the locks. “Pack a bag. You’re coming to my place tonight.”

“What?” You ask looking up from the homework you’re grading.

“Get some shit together. Now. Right now.” You’ve never seen Bucky like this and it’s honestly kinda terrifying.

“Bucky what’s going on?”

“You’ve been threatened and I need to get you safe.”

“So the belly of the beast is safer than a neutral location?”

“My home is protected by a gang of Howlies. Yours isn’t, come on Doll please pack a bag before I drag you outta here.” You do as he asks, grabbing a change of clothes, pajamas, tooth brush, toothpaste, and the bag you take to school.

“I’m ready.” You tell him and he wraps a hand around one of yours before hurrying you out of the house. You’re surprised to see there are four men waiting in your driveway.

“I’m Steve, I’ll take your bags.” The leader of the Howlies doesn’t look like a rough and tumble biker, but then again neither does Bucky most days.

“Thanks.” You hand over the bags and then Bucky swings a leg over his bike before passing you a helmet.

“Helmet on.”

“It’s like a block.”

“Helmet. On.” He growls and you do as he asks with a huff. One of the men chuckles. “Don’t encourage her Wilson.” Bucky snaps as you buckle the helmet. “Swing on Darlin.” You do and he revs the engine before rolling out of the driveway. If he’d been more relaxed you’d actually have loved to go for a ride. But not tonight. He’s way too tense and he and the rest of the men roar down the street. They pull the driveway and the other four men linger as Bucky continues up it toward the garage.

“Barton, Lang, first watch.” Steve orders and two of the men pull away as their leader rolls into the garage next to Bucky. The one Bucky’s called Wilson joins you. “I’ll take her stuff to your room Buck.” Steve says as you swing off of the bike, Wilson takes the helmet from your hands then whispers,

“Ask him why he really hit your mailbox.” Then winks and is gone. You’re standing there, completely confused, when Bucky speaks.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for anyone to find out you were connected to me. Somehow they did.”

“It’s fine Bucky. I mean is this how I expected my night to go? Hell no, but I wouldn’t give up my connection to you, I love spending time with you.”

“You do?”

“Yea. I’m so glad you almost killed Mr. Nelson’s cat and killed my mailbox instead.” You tell him. He won’t look at you, “Oh my god you did kill the cat, didn’t you?”

“No darlin.”

“Then what is it? Something’s bothering you.” You take his face into your hands forcing him to look at you. “Bucky please.”

“I didn’t almost hit a cat. I’d never seen you before, not really and, God this is so embarrassing.” He grumbles, “I got so distracted by you and how gorgeous I think you are that I drove right into your mailbox.” You can’t help it, you laugh. Bucky tries to pull away from you but you wrap your arms around his neck and press your mouth to his.

It takes him a second to respond but when he does it’s with his whole body. His arms wrap around your waist and he drags you into his lap, so you’re sideways on his bike. He growls lowly as his lips coax yours apart, he swallows the sigh that passes your lips. You pull away first, resting your forehead against his you laugh softly.

“So about being connected to me and how you don’t care.”

“I really, really don’t care Barnes.” You assure him before kissing him again.

[el-borealis]

All The Things Left Unsaid

Read on AO3

Jopper One-shot: Summer 1985 

Words: 4,326

--- 

Joyce had given into her anxiety and turned off the engine to the car fifteen minutes prior.

She was on her fourth cigarette, but her guilt only grew with each puff. What good were cigarettes anyway, she thought with annoyance, if they no longer worked to calm her down. She prayed that Will hadn't looked out the window.

Nothing had changed on the Wheeler's front stoop, which she had been watching like a hawk for the last thirty minutes. No monsters, dark clouds or government officials. Yet still, here she was.

The late July sun was just starting to set, yet the incoming night was still swelteringly hot. She hung her bare arm out of the window in an attempt to catch a bit of breeze but there was none to be had.

A rumbling engine tore around the corner in front of her. Joyce smirked. Hopper's Blazer with 'Police' emblazoned across the side was definitely going over the speed limit as it appeared on the Wheeler's street and came to an abrupt stop on the opposite curb.

"Ok, what are the rules, kid?" Hopper's voice carried out of his open window.

"I'm late! You took too long," El whined, already opening the door to her side of the car.

"Rules?" he replied gruffly.

El huffed, "Stay inside. Don't use my powers in front of anyone. Tell the Wheelers my name is Jane and I'm your niece," she stated in a glum monotone, "Can I go now?"

"Be back out here at 10, no dawdling," he said, making Joyce smile warmly at the overwhelmingly fatherly tone.

"Dawdling?" El asked.

"Oh, it'll….be your word for tomorrow. Don't be late," Hopper replied, rubbing her messy curls with his bear paw hand, "Have fun, Kid." Joyce watched as El smiled, said goodbye, jumped out of the truck and dashed to the front door of the Wheelers so fast you'd expect she was being chased. Hopper watched her keenly the whole way, his eyes falling on Joyce, directly across the street from him, as El slipped through the doorway.

"You too, huh?" he asked from his seat as he pulled out a cigarette.

Joyce nodded and leaned her head out of the car window, "You know me. Where else would I be? I might as well build a bed for myself in the backseat of this car at this point."

Hopper snickered as he held his hands up to light his cigarette, "This parenting shit, man. It's a racket."

"Ah, but it's worth it to feel the love when they wake you up after a double shift to ask for 20 bucks," she retorted with a dark smile.

"I haven't gotten that far yet. Now I have something to look forward to," he replied. He took a deep drag from his cigarette and let out a lazy puff of smoke as silence settled between them. "Say, Joyce," he said, his voice carrying a hint of hestitation, "Wanna get some dinner? I could kill a patty melt right about now."

Joyce, surprised by the invitation, took a guilty look at the house, "Well, I should probably leave here before the Wheelers call the police on me for stalking. So, sure."

"Well, considering it would page directly to this," he said, lifting the receiver of his CB radio, "I think you're safe. Get in over here, I'll drive?"

"Okay," Joyce replied. She fumbled for her purse, leaned over and manually rolled up each of the windows, and locked up the car. She took one final anxious peek back at the Wheelers' home, which still had not burned down or fallen into an alternate dimension, and made her way to Hopper's truck.

She felt like a child as she attempted to step up into the tall cabin of the vehicle, hoisting herself forcefully, laughing in the process.

"Having some trouble?" Hopper asked with a hint of sarcasm as he held out his hand to assist her. She took it gladly and pulled herself in, yanking the door closed behind her with a loud thud. "Where to?" he asked as he put the truck in drive.

"Oh, I don't know," she stuttered, "You're the hungry one. You pick?"

Hopper nodded in acknowledgement and pulled onto the road as Joyce worked to buckle her seatbelt. She peeked over at him as he turned a corner and couldn't help but notice that he was dressed… nicely. He was sporting a pressed light blue button-up short sleeved shirt tucked into nice jeans, and his thinning hair was combed and tamed, unlike his usual hat head of flyaways.

"Something fancy happen today? You look nice, Hop," she said with amused surprise.

"What, a guy can't try sometimes? What do you take me for, a slob?" he responded with his patent dry humor.

She didn't respond but rolled her eyes casually and sat back into the seat.

Hopper turned right down Sycamore Lane, "So, how you been, Joyce? Don't think I've seen you since the we were chain smoking outside the Wheelers this time last month."

Joyce shrugged and worked to fill him in on the comings and goings of her and the boys. Mostly the coming and goings of the boys, to be honest. The truth was Joyce's life had been quite quiet in the nine months since everything had happened in the fall. Honestly, she'd needed it that way. But at this point she couldn't help but notice that her devotion for her kids, combined with her work schedule and her need for alone time, had turned her into a bit of a recluse, and she was admittedly going a bit stir crazy. Dinner with Hopper was probably the most exciting thing she had done without her boys all year.

After a short drive he pulled into the parking lot of Sheila's Bar and Grill on the main drag of town. "This place good?" he asked, looking over to her for approval as his fingers rested on the keys to cut the engine. Joyce gulped. It was one of the two nicer restaurants in town. Which sure, wasn't saying much as this was Hawkins, but still. She couldn't help but feel underdressed in a ratty tank top and old jeans, her hair still pulled back in a messy pony tail from cleaning the house all day. Plus, her wallet was a lot less full than she was comfortable with for a real restaurant. Though Sheila's was only two blocks from Melvald's, she'd never stepped foot inside. It had always been just a little too expensive for her to rationalize taking the boys.

"Am I… dressed appropriately for this place?" she asked hesitantly, her eye falling on a rip in the knee of her jeans.

Hopper laughed and brushed off the question as he opened his door and cut the engine, "Don't worry about it. Of course you are. Besides, even if you were wearing a flour sack you'd be the prettiest girl in there."

Joyce felt herself blush in surprise at his words and hoisted herself out of the truck to the ground.

He opened the door of the restaurant for her and she snuck under his arm to enter. The restaurant was lively, but not packed, filled with families, middle aged couples and a couple groups of old men sharing war stories in the back submerged in a cloud of smoke.

"Evening, Shelia," Hopper called to the elderly woman behind the bar. Sheila, a sweet looking woman in her 60s with twinkling eyes, looked up from the bread baskets she was filling with a wave. Her eyes widened as she spied Joyce.

"Well, little Jimmy Hopper," she said with a kind smile as she sidled her way out from behind the bar and beckoned them to follow her to a booth by the windows. "You clean up well, Jimmy. Can't remember the last time I saw you bring a date in," she whispered quietly to Jim, though not quietly enough for Joyce to miss it, as she nudged him with her elbow like a nosy Aunt.

Joyce felt her cheeks redden in a silly way that belied her age, feeling slightly awkward by the misconception. Jim audibly groaned, "Alright, Sheila. Alright."

Sheila smiled at Joyce brightly as she laid menus on the table and patted the booth seat, "Here you go, dear. Y'all have a nice dinner," she said with a wink. Hopper stepped back to allow Joyce her choice of seats and dropped himself into the seat facing away from the door.

"This place is nice," she said as she surveyed the deep red wooden walls and ceiling.

"You've never been here before?" he asked, picking up his own menu. She shook her head. "Well then, you're in for a treat," he continued, "Sheila was my mom's best friend and she makes the best rolls you've ever tasted." He lifted the bread basket in offering.

They fell into companionable silence as they searched for their choices on the menu, Joyce munching on what was admittedly great bread all the while. After a few minutes a slight teenage girl with overwhelming Farrah Fawcett hair, who Joyce recognized from Jonathan's grade, approached their table for their order.

"I'll have the patty melt and fries," Hopper said as he handed her his menu, "and a Schlitz. Want a beer, Joyce?" he asked.

She hesitated, worried about driving later, but once again remembered she was with the Chief of Police, "Why not," she replied with a playful shrug, "and I'll have the…" she paused, realizing she had never made a decision, "Same. I'll have the same."

"Two Schlitz and two patty melts it is then," the girl said with a placating smile as she scribbled on her pad, "Be right back."

Joyce fumbled with her napkin for a moment and focused on lying it on her lap. A twinge of awkwardness pouring over her at her unexpected dinner. She looked up to find Hopper watching her closely.

"So," she said quickly, trying to change the subject from her own insecurity, "how's it going with…" she looked around and leaned in to whisper, "Jane."

Hopper nodded and took a bite out of his bread, "Well, she hasn't blown out any more windows, so I'd say it's going well. I sneak her out of the house right about the time I can tell she can't take it anymore," he shrugged, "Only a few more weeks now and then she starts school. That's gonna be weird," he said with a nervous sigh as their beers arrived, "Thanks."

"Aww, old Dad Hopper," she teased as she patted his hand, "It'll be fine. She's a good kid, Hop. And she's got good friends who will look out for her."

"Yeah, and its ample alone time with one of those 'friends' that I'm worried about," he said with an eye roll, "Do you know that Wheeler kid showed up at her window last Saturday and tried to get her to sneak out into the woods with him? I practically had to chase him off and Jane wouldn't talk to me all day. That boy is getting too brave, I tell ya."

Joyce laughed gleefully, "If I recall correctly," she said, wagging her finger accusingly in his direction, "that sounds a lot like someone I knew who tried the exact same thing to me when we were seniors. I think my Dad had to use a broom to scoot you off of the roof, if I remember correctly."

A guilty look passed over Hopper's face as he fought back a smile. "Yeah, seniors in high school," he said wryly, "Not the same."

"Touche," She shrugged in relent as she took a swig of her beer, "She could do worse, by the way. I've known that boy since he was five. He might mouth off sometimes and yes, he might be a little reckless, but he's the most loyal and dedicated friend Will could have ever hoped for. He's a good kid, Hop."

Hopper sighed, "Yeah, I know. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy this."

"Well, just feel lucky that you didn't walk on your kid naked with his girlfriend last week," Joyce said, shuddering at the entirely horrifying memory that she attempted to drown with another swig of beer.

Hopper winced, "Ooooh, I do not envy you," he said with a bleak laugh.

"Well," she said, raising her glass, "At least we're in it together now. Parenting teenagers is a trip."

Hopper shrugged and shot her his classic beleaguered smile, "Cheers to that," he said as he clinked her glass.

The evening continued on effortlessly, any awkwardness she might have felt melting away at their easy conversation and the presence of beer, much as it had always been since their first chapter as teenagers. She listened with rapt attention as he told her about renovations he was making to the old cabin and as he bragged with the sweet pride of a father about the success Jane was having with her tutoring.

"Want another?" he asked as the waitress came around with their meals.

Joyce looked down to find her glass surprisingly empty, "Oh, I shouldn't," she declined bemusedly, her head swimming a bit from the single drink. It was amazing how much of a lightweight she'd become in her forties.

"Neither should I," he replied, playing with the glass in his hands before looking up with a trademark glint in his eye, "Split one more?"

Joyce chuckled and nodded after a pause, "Sure."

"Atta girl, Joycie" he said jovially before turning to the waitress, "Just one more, thanks."

"You're a bad influence," she accused as she reached for the ketchup.

Hopper barked with a loud cracking laugh, infecting her with its suddenness as she broke out in her own giggle, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Well, I'm not sure I meant it as one…" she retorted, "but all the same."

He shot her a coy look in response, making her insides jump nervously, surprising every nerve in her body. She blushed as she quickly forced her attention on her meal, as her mind began to run in a very unexpected direction.

Nice restaurant. Nice outfit. Combed hair. Extra round of beers. That look he just gave her.

No.

No way.

Maybe?

Not possible.

"So, how's work been?" Joyce asked lamely, seeking any benign topic that would help her get her bearings back as the beer arrived at the table. She swiped it immediately and took a healthy swig.

Hopper groaned and launched into a dull story about his deputies.

She didn't hear a word of it. Instead, her mind launched itself noisily into a frenetic beer fueled tizzy.

It had been years since she had seen that look on Jim Hopper's face, but it wasn't something she could really forget. In fact, it was emblazoned on her memory like a trigger.

It was the same look he would shoot her across the biology classroom every Friday of senior year. A clandestine invitation to skip fifth period for a rendezvous of cigarettes and a heated make out session underneath the bleachers.

The same look he wore when he talked her into going to prom with him despite her father's wishes, egging her on to disobey how grounded she was... because they'd been caught having a rendezvous of cigarettes and making out under the bleachers.

The same look was on his face his final night before shipping out to Vietnam, as he appeared at her window and beckoned for entry. She had let him in willingly and he had stayed all night, wrapped up silently with her body, neither of them knowing if they would ever see each other again.

And here he was, all these years later. After so much shit and so many winding roads. Sitting across from her chatting about his daughter, his house, his town, all back at the scene of their old crimes. Giving her that look again.

…and she hadn't worried about the boys in at least forty-five minutes. It might have been a record.

His shirt looked incredibly good on his biceps.

"What?" Jim asked in surprise.

"Huh?" she sputtered, shaking her head, unsure of where they were in the conversation.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked in amusement.

"Oh…" she said, a twinge of embarrassment playing across her face, "No reason. Sorry,"

"Ooookay," he said, eyeing her suspiciously,

She drained the rest of the beer.

"You know you drank that whole thing," he pointed out amusedly as he pushed his plate to the side and sat back in the booth.

"Did I?" she blanched in surprise, "I'm sorry!"

"Nah, it's fine," he said as he waved his hand to dismiss her worry, "Drunk Joyce is cute. Plus, it's probably good for the town to see the Sheriff driving sober."

"Yes!" she said emphatically, "That's why I did it. I drank this beer as a service to our community!"

Hopper's laugh boomed through the restaurant, and she smiled shyly in return, entirely overwhelmed by the situation. The truth was, he'd always had that affect on her. She had always lived just a little more dangerously in his presence. It was an odd trait, she regarded through her foggy mind as she watched him laugh, because he also made her feel incredibly safe.

The check appeared at the table as his laughter subsided. Joyce reached for her purse, but before she could rummage out any cash, the girl was already gone and Hopper was pocketing his wallet.

"My treat," he said casually as he rose up from the booth, "ready to go?"

"Hop, you didn't need to do that," she contested as she scrambled to her feet while digging in her purse for cash, "Here, let me pay you back."

"It's fine, Joyce," he said as his hand grasped her's firmly, stopping her from continuing her search in her purse. She jumped in surprise. He pulled away quickly and smiled reassuringly, "Just think of it as... prepayment for all of the Eggos you'll probably end up buying to feed my daughter once she's let loose on this town and ends up at your place after school. The girl is a monster for breakfast food."

Joyce laughed loudly as she followed him out of the restaurant, the quest for cash in her purse abandoned.

Hopper and Joyce walked to the truck in the parking lot. The night air had cooled down considerably, more than she'd expected. It was refreshing and worked to clear her mind. Hopper followed Joyce around to the passenger side of the truck. He unlocked the door and gave her a hand to hoist her up before shutting the door and crossing back to his side.

She took the five seconds of alone time to let out a huge exasperated exhale. What was happening? Her body felt hot and icy at the same time, betraying her into thinking she was seventeen again. It was… nice? Weird. Unexpected.

Hopper climbed into the truck, revved the engine, and pulled out without a word.

They drove in silence back to the Wheelers, Joyce working to calm herself, her brain and body swimming in a fuzzy intoxication.

Hopper's truck pulled up behind Joyce's car and he cut the engine. "Ahh… back in time to nervously watch the door while they overstay their curfew," he said wryly, pulling out a cigarette.

"Let 'em," Joyce said with a casual shrug, "they're only young for a few more years."

"Well, Joyce Byers," Hopper said with surprise, "If I didn't know better I'd say that beer loosened you up a bit."

Joyce just smiled, scooted closer to him in the big bank seat, and stole his cigarette, "Maybe I am."

The moments ticked by quietly as they shared a cigarette, watching the clock move closer to 10pm. Her heartbeat picked up paces consistently as their fingers mingled back and forth over the cigarette, and more so as Hopper's arm slid over the bank seat behind her, picking the cigarette from her far hand playfully when she hadn't expected it. His arm, however, did not leave the space once it had settled, and his fingers were now dangerously close to her hair. She could feel every minute movement.

The usual companionable silence that existed between them did not exist in this moment. Instead, the air felt thick, heavy and electric, as though unsaid words were floating through the air. Words that were suddenly knocking at the back of Joyce's teeth, fighting their way out of her lips and slipping through the cracks before she could stop them.

"Jim?" Joyce said suddenly, turning to him. His face was lit dimly by the street light. He looked softer than usual. Timid even. After a delayed moment he averted his eyes to the street.

"Yeah, Joyce?" he replied casually.

"Why are you dressed so nicely tonight?" she asked directly.

Hopper shrugged dismissively with a light laugh, but she could swear she saw the hint of a blush on his cheeks. He didn't respond, but merely shrugged as he took a deep puff on their cigarette.

"Well," she said after a moment, realizing she was not going to get her answer, "You look very nice."

The trace of a shy smile ghosted across his lips as he looked at her from the corner of his eye, shrugging in his trademark fashion, "Well, you always look nice. I felt like I had to try."

Joyce smiled as her chest warmed, "What does that mean?", she asked as she shuffled in her seat, turning to him fully and finding herself closer to him in the process. He did not look at her. She swallowed hard and her voice dropped, liquid courage pushing to the point, "Did you plan this?"

Hopper let out a nervous laugh, refusing to look in her direction, "Well, I didn't think I was going to get interrogated for it but-"

"Jim," she stated quietly. He hesitated, but slowly turned to look at her after a pause. His eyes were vulnerable and nervous. "Thank you for the date," she said quietly as she allowed her body to lean back into his arm. She felt his fingers brush her hair.

"Anytime," he replied quietly.

Maybe it was the second beer or maybe it was something more, but in that moment she had no hesitation. Joyce leaned up and kissed him lightly on the lips, her right hand brushing against the tuft of his beard. It was chaste, simple and sweet. Nothing like the ravenous teenagers they had once been. Something stirred deep within her.

Hopper's eyes were wide with surprise, and a sadness laced through them that she couldn't place. He hesitated for a moment, looking directly at her as if he had just seen her for the first time. "Joyce…" he whispered slowly in his gruff tone, trepidation written across his brow, "did you mean to do that?"

Joyce's features crinkled in surprise as she laughed, "…Do you think I just fell on your face or somethi-" Her sentence ended in a breathless moan against his lips. In a flash, his eyes shifted from surprise to nervousness to unbridled longing. Before she could decipher his movement, his arms had wrapped fully around her slight frame, pulling her to him as though she weighed nothing at all. His lips were rough, unhewn. Her body flooded with a burning as she pressed deeper against his body, deeper against his lips, his large hand lacing through her fine hair as he moaned against her lips. He was still, as he'd always been, the absolute best kisser. A dam broke within her. Her hands reached around his neck as she pulled herself closer, her kiss containing things she could not yet express with words. Things that had bubbled, unindulged, beneath the surface for months, years, and while it was nerve wracking to admit, probably decades.

He breathed deeply against her lips and brought both of his hands up to cup her face softly. "Joyce…I…" he rasped as he laid his forehead against hers, his eyes closed lightly and his breath ragged, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

A long lost insatiable smile played upon Joyce's lips, her heartbeat racing, "Then do it again, Jim."

El and Will trudged up the stairs from the basement together, audibly grumbling because they had to leave earlier than everyone else.

"I can't believe it's already ten," Will sighed.

"I know," El griped as they reached the door.

Will swung the door open and held it for El to leave first. She stepped out and crossed a few feet over the lawn before stopping wide eyed in her tracks.

"El? What's wrong?" Will asked nervously, looking at her.

El pointed silently at the truck. Will gasped, grabbed El's arm, and pulled her back inside, easing the door shut silently.

"Was that what I thought it was?!" he asked, eyes s wide they were about to fall out of his head.

El nodded slowly, her mouth still agape in shock. Will pulled El down against the door out of eye shot. She peeked up ever so slightly, parted the curtains, and peered out quickly. She swiped the curtain shut with a gasp and slid back down the door.

Will breathed heavily as she grasped onto El's arm, "My mom… and your dad…"

"Yeah!" El exclaimed in a whisper, "He combed his hair tonight. For a long time. It was weird."

They sat in silence against the door staring at each other in shock. El climbed back up and peered out of the window again. "Still happening."

"Do you think that means they'll notice if we're late?" Will said suddenly, his tone changing from shock to mischief. El looked back at him, shook her head excitedly. The two scrambled to their feet and bee-lined for the basement stairs, laughing confusedly all the while.

[peetabreadgirl]

Writer’s Block 4.1

So I’m taking a different approach to finishing this story. Instead of writing a monster chapter, it’s easier for me to do chunks of it at the moment. I’ll post every 2000 words here, and when it’s complete I’ll post it as one continuous chapter on the archives. Just seems easier for me. Hope you like this one! 4.2 isn’t far behind… Let me know what you think!

What the fuck am I reading? I toss the book aside and try to forget about the alien species commingling with human women as they take over the world with their disappearing magic lube, never-ending sexual appetite and nanocytes that heal the bruises they leave behind from their love-making. If it can be called that.

None of that garbage is going to help me write the next scene. The scene. The one I have zero experience with. Every time I sit down to write it I get nervous and edgy. But I need something written down that at least Peeta can make changes to. He won’t be much help to me this week since he’s busy finishing up an art project that’s due at the same time. I told him not to worry, that I would wrap things up on this end so he could focus elsewhere.

I was relieved at first, but now I’m just stuck and the more time that passes with no new words appearing in the doc, the more I wish I had his insight. And not just professionally. I want the knowledge of what it is I’m supposed to be writing poured into me from his hands and his lips.

I think about the last time we worked on the project almost five days ago. He’d promised we would take things slow and my insides had done a happy, albeit nervous, jig. He’d eradicated any hatred I’d felt for him that day, which must not have been much when I think about how easily he’s rooted himself inside me. Made me look forward to his help when I’ve always worked alone. Since then we’ve only seen each other in class. And damn it if I haven’t laid awake every night wondering when it’s going to happen.

It cost me fifty bucks I really didn’t have, but I was able to get my computer fixed at the tech lab on campus, so we don’t need to share a computer anymore. Peeta emails me every night to check in on how the story is going and asks how my day was. I answer with the mundane details of class and work, wishing I were more vibrant and interesting, and fudge a little about Julia’s and Adam’s progress, then wait for a reply. It always comes within a few minutes.

Thinking about it, I open my computer and log into gmail. Nothing yet, but he’s probably not finished with his day. I don’t normally hear from him until close to 10:00 PM, and it’s only 8:45. I know what I need to do, so I take a deep breath and prepare to be honest with him about the story. About how I’m struggling and could use his help, but I don’t want to take him away from his art project. When I’m done, I read over it, delete parts, add more, edit, edit, edit. A writer’s life for me, I guess. I can’t even put together a simple email until it’s been beta’d like it’s being published in the New York Times. I glance at the clock. 9:30. It’s taken me 45 minutes to relay my honesty to my partner.

I don’t let myself obsess over it anymore and hastily click ‘send’, the swooshing sound ringing in my ears and setting my nerves off. I tell myself it’s fine. We both want an A and Peeta knows I’m limited in this area. If he can help, I don’t doubt he will.

I’m filling in all the unsexy parts of the story when I receive his reply.

Katniss,

I’ll be done in an hour. I can swing by your place and we can talk about it?

Peeta

I reply quickly with ‘see you soon’ and where he can find my room, then set about tidying the space. It doesn’t take long since it’s so small, just a studio with a kitchenette and a tiny bathroom, but I don’t have to share it with a roommate. When I’m done I sit on my daybed that doubles as my couch and rearrange the order of the pillows a few times, checking which formation looks the fullest.

I brush my teeth and change into fresh clothes since I’ve been wearing the same ones all day. Black yoga pants and a loose, t-back midriff seem to say that I’m comfortable and confident even though I feel nothing of the sort. I go with it, ignoring the hesitancy blooming over the sliver of toned stomach I’m showing and my bare shoulders and arms. I tug on the hem, but that provides an easy view of my cleavage and I suddenly feel self-conscious. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. A long sleeved turtleneck that covers my butt might be better in such a confined space with a hot guy who makes my stomach flutter.

I’m about to whip it over my head when the knock comes at my door. I freeze, panicked and glance at the clock. 10:42. He’s early. No time to change now. I take one last look in the mirror and cringe at the messy braid I forgot to fix, so I take out the band and run my fingers quickly  through the dark strands in an effort to make it presentable, then stand in front of the door with my hand on the knob and count to three.

The door swings open and Peeta stands on the other side. My breath whooshes out of my chest at how adorable he looks. Tousled hair, backpack slung over one shoulder, a grin in place that’s warm and curious. His eyes seem tired, though.  

“Hey,” he greets me, and I remember I should invite him in. I step aside, widening the door and he crosses into the room, setting his bag down next to my desk. He turns and I see his gaze sweep over me quickly.

“Thanks for coming, Peeta. I know you’re busy with other things.”

“I’m a little tired.” He admits what I already detected as one of his hands reaches for the back of his neck. “But I’ve been waiting for an excuse to see you.”

My cheeks heat up at his sweet words. I want to tell him he doesn’t need an excuse, he can come over any time, but I don’t. I confessed more to him a few days ago than I have to anyone, ever. I’m confessed out at this point. Instead, I grab a pen and my notepad, because sometimes I just need to hand write my ideas, and plop down on the couch, trying hard not to think of it as a bed. Also, if he kisses me tonight I don’t care if pen and paper fall to the floor. Hell, I could chuck them across the room if I feel like it.

“Ready?”

“Um, sure,” he says hesitantly as his arm falls to his side. I know I probably made a mistake by not acknowledging his kind words, but it’s just so hard for me to say things out loud that bare my feelings. Writing is always safest.

The bed - couch! - dips next to me when he sits. He’s quiet, waiting for me I suppose.

“I think we should outline the scene exactly, so I’ll know how to proceed. Things like,” I pause, deciding how best to say what needs to be said. Why did I agree to this? My heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s about to pass the speed of sound.

“It’s okay. You can say whatever it is.” His encouragement is soft, sweet. But I still find it hard to give voice to such sexual thoughts.

“Um, things like… where they are exactly, and maybe h-hand placement. Kissing, foreplay, body alignment. Those types of things that I’m not… really…” My mouth feels like a drought has taken up residence there, and I swallow to try and regain some moisture.

His hand on mine stops my frantic doodling. Something I didn’t even realize I was doing.

“You don’t have to say anymore. I get it.” He takes my hand and sets it on his thigh. I watch as he runs his fingers back and forth between mine tenderly. It’s soothing and arousing all at once. “I know this is hard for you, Katniss, and I’m here for you, and for this project. You can trust me, okay?”

I blink and look up at him briefly. He’s so pretty. And charming. And so, so believable. I nod my head and remove my hand from his, hating every second afterwards that we’re not touching. Pen poised, I look at him for guidance.

“Okay, well, let’s think about this. People don’t generally start out with sex. There’s a lead up. Where are they right now?”

“In the car,” I answer.

“Coming from?”

“Work.”

“Have they done anything besides work related things?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” I cock my head to the side slightly and tap my pen on the pad.

“Like, have they gone on a date or spent time together in a non-work environment,” he explains.

I shake my head and mumble something about adding that to the parts of life I know nothing about.

“You’ve never been on a date?” he asks in disbelief. I sigh, knowing that when I look at him I’ll see the tone of his question reflected in his pretty blue eyes. Eyes I’d rather not find pity in. Our gazes connect and it’s there. It bothers me.

“Is it that hard to believe?” I ask with minor annoyance. More at myself for revealing yet another right of passage I’m apparently missing out on than with Peeta.

“Well, yeah, but not for the reason you’re thinking. I just can’t see no guy ever asking you out. Katniss, you have no idea.” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s willing me to understand. But I don’t and I’m too embarrassed to continue this part of the conversation.

“Can we just talk about the outline please?” I ask quietly as I doodle a triangle in the corner of my notepad and fill it in.

He rubs his palms over this thighs distractedly, but I can feel his eyes on me. It seems like he wants to say more but, thankfully, he doesn’t. “Okay. Yeah, so let’s, uh, send them on a date. Someplace nice. Adam is trying to show her he really doesn’t hate her, so he would put some effort into it. Low lighting, ambience, table for two in the corner…”

I write down everything he’s just said and when I’m finished I glance up, glad we’re moving on. “Next?”

“He should drive her home after that, and she can ask him to come inside. That’s kind of how a guy knows his date might want some intimacy.” I stare at him as he explains further. “Something more than a goodnight kiss under the porchlight.”

Invites him inside, I write before waiting for more instruction.

“She can offer him wine or a beer. That might help relax the situation if one of them is nervous.” It definitely would, I think, remembering how quickly my inhibitions had flown out the window the first time we kissed. My cheeks flame and I don’t look back up.

“They sit on the be-couch?” I offer, inwardly scolding myself that I almost said bed. I see Peeta shrug through my peripheral.

“Sure, if you want things to start there, but they’d probably move to the bedroom at some point.”

“She lives in a studio. Kind of like this place,” I tell him, waving my arm around. He knows I’ve basically formed Julia’s character from my own life, so this admission doesn’t take any skin off my nose.

“Right,” he says right before he yawns. I feel terrible. He’s obviously been running on little sleep and now he’s here, helping me when he should be in bed.  

“Do you want some coffee?” I ask him, nodding to the single cup, hand-me-down machine I keep on my desk, stifling my own yawn. He’s contagious.

“No, thanks,” he says sleepily, curling up behind me on the… couch. His arm slips around my waist and he pulls me down with him, my back against his chest. “Let’s just take a quick nap and then we’ll finish up, k?”

I lay there for a minute, trying to figure out what I should do, but before I can answer or move I hear his breathing even out, soft puffs of air on the back of my neck. Even if I weren’t sleepy and we didn’t have a deadline fast approaching for this project, I don’t think I could move away from the warmth and comfort I feel with his body wrapped around mine. It’s been too long since someone has held me, and never in the way Peeta is now.

I take a deep breath and blow it out, my body relaxing further into him, giving in to his wish. He’s right. A nap is a perfect idea.

[meer-katnip]

Title: There Are Dangerous Friends Summary: Nic Silver- Canadian cinnamon roll journalist extraordinaire- falls down a hole and nearly gets himself killed. These two facts, oddly enough, are not as closely connected as you might think.

more of this ridiculous Undertale AU

Read on AO3, or:

In Nic's defence, he hadn't seen the hole coming. It just kind of- well, loomed out of nowhere. Okay, yeah, sure, it was a really large hole and therefore pretty easy to spot, but he had been preoccupied- mainly with talking into a microphone. The golden flowers growing around the mountainside in sprawling patterns are very interesting, and he's sure that the producers at Pacific North West Stories will be fascinated with the story behind them- whatever it is.

"The patterns around here are very weird," he notes, swivelling on his heel to examine the rest of the mountain. From here- at the top of Mt Ebott- he can see for miles into the Pacific North West. He's almost high enough to be able to touch the faint wisps of clouds, hanging lazily above him. "It's almost like some sort of magic." He takes a step back. "If you squint, you can almost see some sort of message hidden in the flowers." Another step. "-I'm probably just being fanciful."

Big hole in the middle of the ground, hapless reporter wandering around with his eyes focused on the device in his hands and the scenery around him.

You don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce what comes next.

Nic teeters at the edge of the hole, hands pinwheeling wildly (but still managing to keep a death grip on his recorder). For a second, he almost steadies himself, but then his foot slips out from underneath him- a casualty of a loose slab of rock.

He falls.

Into black.

∵ 

Nic wakes slowly, consciousness ebbing at him like a particularly teasing tide. His head is surrounded by golden flowers, he notes- exactly like the ones on the cliffs of Mt Ebbot. They're bobbing in a breeze that he can't quite discern, but it's coming from somewhere next to him.

He looks up, and sees rocky cliffs- steep and sloping upwards towards a faint spot of light.

A faint spot of light that he probably fell from-

-oh shit.

Nic sits up abruptly, causing his pounding headache to worsen. He winces, and stares down at the flowers- soft and bouncy and they must have somehow broken his fall.

He's never appreciated nature more, honestly.

After checking in his pockets for his recorder- which is very empathetically Not There- he goes hunting around in between the flowers, and finds it smashed across the ground; fractured into tiny pieces.

"I paid thirty bucks for that," Nic whispers in horror, before realizing after a moment that his life is probably worth more than a recorder, no matter how much sentimental value it has to him. Besides, he can just buy another one as soon as he can get back up.

If he can get back up.

He gathers the pieces up, and shoves them into his pocket, hoping they won't weigh him down too much.

Then he goes looking for an exit.

He finds one almost immediately- a large archway, carved out of the dark, almost purple rock that's abundant down here. There's no source of light that way, but it looks like the only way out of the clearing, so he decides to take it.

The archway leads to a long corridor that definitely looks like it's been carved intentionally, rather than formed by some natural phenomena. Which definitely increases the chances of there being some sort of human population down here. That's promising.

The light gradually dwindles away into nothing as he continues, going from grey to darker grey to black, until he can't see anything at all, and the only sound he can hear are his own footsteps. He reaches out to feel at the walls, but somehow they've dropped away from him without him noticing.

He's blind and alone, and he doesn't know what to do.

"Hello," says a voice in the black.

Nic turns; does an entire three hundred sixty swivel, but can't make out the source of the voice, which is probably due to the overwhelming amount of darkness around him. His eyes are slowly adjusting to the lighting, but not fast enough.

"Hi?" he says cautiously, thinking, oh good, human being. "Is somebody there?"

"Hello," the voice repeats, and a girl steps out of the shadows.

Actually, no- on second thoughts, it's not a girl. Not entirely, anyway. Her arms have a faint tinge of green to them that he can barely make out, and her hair is bright yellow- not a natural color- and cascading over her shoulders in a messy wave. For some reason, she strikes Nic as almost flower-like. And- for some reason- Nic isn't immediately terrified of her presence. He's more curious about her, than anything.

She stares at him with bright, intelligent eyes. "You're new around here, aren't you?"

Nic freezes for a second, and then nods, slowly. "Yeah. I guess I am."

She studies him for a second, and then breaks out into a bright, beaming smile. "Awesome! I'm Tara. Tara Reynolds."

"I'm Nic," Nic says, and almost offers her a hand to shake before he realizes that he doesn't know what sort of customs strange green girls living under mountains have and this might all actually be just a hallucination caused by bumping his head on a rock on the way down.

"Hello, Nic," she says. "Did you know that this place is bigger on the inside?"

It's so strange, such a non-sequitur, that he almost laughs out loud. Sure. There's a crazy plant girl telling him the hole beneath the mountain is bigger on the inside- this day has been weird enough already, so why not?

"It is?" he asks non-committally. Tara edges out slowly into the dim light that's spilling in from the hole above them.

"Inside the cabin," she says abruptly.

"The cabin?" Nic suddenly wishes his recorder was working- as terrifying as this experience is, it sounds like exactly the sort of thing he'd want to catch on tape.

"Yes." She nods, although her eyes aren't exactly focusing on him- more like somewhere just a few inches above his head. "The air is… cool, and feels thicker or maybe just different, or maybe it’s just me, but there’s a slight metallic smell in the air." She starts suddenly, jumping like a skittish cat, and practically screams. "Sam! I think I can hear them outside, I’m gonna have to- oh!"

Nic steps forward cautiously. "Um- Tara? Are you-"

"I'm great!" she howls. "Amazing- wonderful- dangerous- magical-"

Holy shit, Nic thinks, but doesn't say it out loud because he feels like he's used up his swearing quota for the day.

Tara shoots forwards, and claw-like hands grab at Nic's shoulders, digging into his flesh. Her skin feels like dry leaves, and he could swear it's actually crunching against him.

"Nic," she whispers, face close to his so he can actually smell the sap on her breath- dear god is that disturbing- and feel the dry crackle of her hair as it shifts, "there are dangerous things."

He's frozen, staring at her. He notices that there's faint traces of dark stains above her lips and trailing down her arm, and he really doesn't want to think about what that could be.

"There are magical things," she continues. "There are dangerous things."

"I don't-"

"We get what we deserve," she says, and grins at him. Her teeth are stained red.

Nic struggles against her, attempting to twist out of her grip. It's completely ineffectual.

It figures, he reflects bitterly, that he'd be killed by a psychopathic flower girl only minutes after miraculously surviving a fifty-foot drop.

He's just about resigned himself to his fate when he hears footsteps.

∵  

"Out!" screams a heavily-accented voice from somewhere within the tunnel running alongside the cavern he and Tara are in, and suddenly there's another woman with long, tangly hair getting right into Tara's face- and holy shit, her hands are literally flaming with actual proper fire, is that magic? "Get out, you monstrous creature!"

Tara hisses- almost like a cat, really- and retreats into the shadows, and before Nic can even react or ask her wait, what did you mean, she's gone- literally melting into the walls until nothing's left.

Nic realizes, quite abruptly, that at some point during the proceedings, he had fallen onto his backside and was still lying there, stunned.

"Well," says the woman, and turns reagally to face him. She has copper eyes, narrow and striking, and- most shocking of all, he can't say why he hadn't noticed before- long, curling horns, spiralling up from the tangle of her hair. "What a terrible creature, tormenting such an innocent… human…"

There's something about the way she says 'human' that doesn't really settle right with Nic, but he chooses to ignore it. "Um, thank you, I think. But… she wasn't bothering me. Really."

The woman- monster?- shakes her head, and mutters, "that's what they all think," under her breath before extending a hand towards him, which he takes. She helps him to his feet. "My name is Amalia. I am the keeper of the Ruins."

It strikes him, quite suddenly ,that she has a rather strong Russian accent for somebody who literally lives underneath the ground. He wonders where she got it from "I'm Nic. Nicodemus," he says, almost automatically, and curses himself for revealing his dreaded full name to a complete stranger- one with demonic horns, for god's sake. It must have been something about her nature, he thinks, that reminds him partly of his mother and partly of that girlfriend he had for an entire week in college. Something disarming.

"You fell down here," says Amalia, and it's not a question. "How?"

Nic bites his lip. "I- er, tripped."

"Tripped." Amalia's copper stare is deadpan and entirely unbelieving.

"I was preoccupied," Nic defends himself. "The flowers-"

"Yes, they are rather fascinating, aren't they?" Amalia turns towards the tunnel she emerged from, and begins to walk- trusting, perhaps, that he'll follow her. "Come with me. You cannot stay out here all day, Nicodemus."

Nic hurries after her. "Uh, it's just Nic. Please. Call me Nic."

"Hm."

The 'hm' is not encouraging.

[bestfriendforhire]

Children of BFFH, Entry 9

 “On your six!” I exclaimed, dodging between two enemy ships to try getting a shot at the one on David’s backside.

 He didn’t need me, suddenly falling into a spinning backward dive while shooting up.  Then he blasted forward, shooting one of the ones I passed.  “Thanks, kid!” he told me, despite my complete lack of use.

 I knew I was getting better, but I was still sooo far behind this guy, like I was playing a video game with Messy or Four… or Aid… or Luce.  If I was playing with Crazy, things would be far less controlled.  Firing a missile to shatter an arch of stone as I passed underneath, I imagined how Crazy might be dealing with these, but my mind was too sane to take a good guess.

 “Nice shot!  You got two of them.” David informed me, sounding amused as he went on to say, “I always feel bad about blowing up the land.  Imagine if someone tore up Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon.  Even if they were saving us from something terrible, there’s still that sense of being wronged when something ancient and beautiful is lost.”

 I frowned, knowing he had a point.  The Boss certainly wouldn’t approve collateral damage, not that there was anything he couldn’t fix.  Knowing I lacked such skills, I needed to do better!  

 The action continued with David showing me the ropes of another three missions.  His skill and knowledge had me wondering how many times he had played this.  He seemed human, and I hadn’t seen him use any magic.  Of course, I knew that full humans could be incredible in their own right.  I didn’t slack on my history lessons.

 “What’s wrong, kid?  Done already?” questioned David shortly into the fifth mission.

 “Died too much.  I’m out of quarters.” I replied, trying not to sound too sour.

 “I can give you a couple bucks if you want to keep going.” he offered, surprising me.

 “Thank you, but no.  I probably should catch my family.  We’ve been at this a while.” I explained, despite being a little tempted.  I’d feel guilty afterward if I accepted, knowing David probably had to earn his money just like I did.  My parents believed in giving Doc and me an allowance, but only in exchange for small chores.

 “Guess I’ll quit too.  Probably should head home and get my homework done.” he informed me, standing up out of the game cabinet.

 “But.. don’t you have another couple minutes left!?” I asked in surprise.  He shrugged and said, “Finishing co-op by myself just doesn’t feel right.  It’s no biggie.”

 “Look who’s here, fellas.  The new kid’s babysitting.” came an obnoxious voice.

 I spun around when a hand touched my shoulder and stumbled backward a couple steps in surprise.  A large boy in a torn shirt was smirking and staring well over my head.  Didn’t he know to exercise!?  His odor hit me as he continued walking forward, and I quickened my pace, straight into David.

 “Leave him alone, Shane.  What do you want?” questioned David as he stepped around in front of me.  He sounded annoyed.

 I hadn’t really noticed earlier, but David wasn’t very big for a high schooler.  Were these friends of him?

 “I’m feeling hungry.  Why don’t you buy us lunch?” questioned Shane, still smirking.  The boys behind him seemed to like the idea.  Was there some new trend involving dirty, torn clothes?

 “Just leave me alone.  You know you can’t start anything in here.  They’ll call security on you.” replied David confidently.

 Shane closed the gap between them surprisingly quickly for someone of his girth, shoving David into me.  As I fell backward, I wondered why David hadn’t blocked.  Seeing him get punched in the gut as one of the other guys grabbed his arm, I realized he might not know how.

 Having rolled after falling, I was already on my feet, but what was I supposed to do?  I couldn’t let someone who had been helping me beat up, but I couldn’t fight three kids twice my size without magic.  No one was back this far to see us, but...

 “Leave him alone and get lost!” ordered Doc, appearing behind me.

 “What are you going to do about it?” asked Shane, grinning at her.

 “Nothing.  Security’s already coming.” she told him, casually crossing her arms and staring him down.

 Shane’s eyes opened wide before closing into a glare.  He swung down hard at David one last time, yowling in pain and surprise a moment later as his hand connected with Doc’s magic.  Punching a telekinetic wall wasn’t wise for most people.  He was bleeding and quickly cradled the injured hand in his other as he started to flee after his friend.

 David, who had been dropped to the ground, lay there staring after them till Doc walked over and offered him a hand up.

 “Thank you for looking after my little brother.” she told him, smiling.

 Taking her hand, he said, “No problem, though I wasn’t much help, honestly.”

 “Would you like to be?” questioned the Boss, joining us from the direction the trio had ran.  He was incredibly tall and using an illusion to look older.  His actual appearance was closer to that of a high schooler, since he stopped aging not long after graduating.

 I panicked and quickly blurted “She was just helping us.  We… umm…”  I didn’t want Doc to get in trouble for using magic, but no excuse worked on the Boss.

 “You’re not in trouble.  Nicely handled, you two.” he replied with a smile.  “As for you, David, I understand that you’re looking for a job.”

 “Who are… w-wait… are you…” he started, stumbling over the words.

 Smiling, the Boss proffered his hand and said, “James Michael Somerset III of Best Friend For Hire.  You’ve been emailed information for a job interview.  I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”  Then he looked over to Doc and me, saying, “Your aunt’s getting everyone a soda and some food.  Oh, and Marco grudgingly said he’s willing to show you how to fry foods, Aspen.”

 “Really!?” I exclaimed in excitement.  “Thank you, sir!”

 David’s eyes were bulging as he stared back and forth between the Boss and me, jumping when the Boss was suddenly gone.  “What!?  Where’d he go!?”

 “Relax, David.  The Boss is a very busy man.  Let’s get those snacks, I’m starving!” insisted Doc.  She started leading the way with me in tow.

 “Who are you kids!?” he questioned, still where he was.

 “I’m Daphne Olive Castello, though everyone calls me ‘Doc’, and you already know Aspy.  We live at the Best Friend For Hire headquarters here.”  she explained patiently.  “Snacks are on our aunt, who works there.”

 “Umm… sure!  Okay.” he replied, still sounding nervous, but he did follow this time.

 Aunt Rowan waved us over as she sipped on a drink.  “I got you a rootbeer, David, since I was told that’s your favorite.”

 “Huh?” he asked dumbly.  “How did you…”

 Interrupting him, she said, “Mila told me when she said to use the company card for this.”

 “The A.I. in charge of the transportation network?” he questioned in a surprised voice while Doc took a seat by Aunt Rowan.

 “She runs many things.  You’ll see.  Congratulations on getting an interview!” she exclaimed, offering him a handshake.

 He accepted and nodded, but stood there looking confused.

 Handing our order number to him, Aunt Rowan asked “Mind grabbing the food?”

 He stared at it, possibly through it, until I started wondering if this really was the same guy who easily fought off so many monsters and ships not long ago.  Hearing the number called, he said, “Sorry.  Sure.”  Then he headed over there.

 “Think he’ll actually make it?” questioned Doc after David was a ways off.

 “He’s really nice.  You should’ve seen him at Auntie Aaliyah’s game.  He was amazing!” I insisted before elaborating on some of the crazier stunts I saw him pull off.

 “Don’t worry.  I’m certain he’ll do fine.  So why were we called over here so suddenly?” questioned Aunt Rowan.

 “Oh.. umm… some mean kids David knew were trying to take his money.” I replied, frowning.  “I was useless.  If Doc hadn’t shown up, I don’t know what I would have done.”

 Smiling at me, Aunt Rowan said, “Hopefully, you wouldn’t have hurt them too much, but Mila predicted everything.  She gave us a countdown to get here several minutes ago.”

 “Whoa.  That’s too cool!” I exclaimed, grinning.

 “What’s too cool?” questioned David, looking a little more alert as he put a couple trays on the table.

 “This food!  It’s terrible in the best way!” I replied, grinning at him.

 David looked at me as if I was strange but took a seat by me.

 “Don’t mind my brother.  He likes trying new things, but we’ve grown up eating food from a professional chef.” explained Doc as she looked at a cheeseburger dubiously.

 “I-I… guess that makes sense.” murmured David, grabbing a container of fries and one of the cheeseburgers.

 Aunt Rowan laughed.  “Just don’t tell Marco we ate here.” she teased.  Realizing David wouldn’t know Marco, she said, “Marcos’ the chef.  I’m sure you’ll meet him tomorrow.  The man is absolutely amazing in the kitchen, but he can be… picky… about what’s served.”

 David nodded, chewing his burger.  He looked like he was thinking hard about something.  Deciding not to worry about it, I took a big bite out of the greasy burger and enjoyed the taste as the cheese, lettuce, and tomato mixed with it.

 “It’s really there!” exclaimed David suddenly enough that I jumped.  He was staring at his phone.

 “What is!?” asked Doc, looking startled as well.

 “Sorry.  I really do have an interview tomorrow.” he stated, now sounding excited and nervous at once.

 “Relax.” stated Aunt Rowan before taking another sip of her drink.

 “I’ll try… My parents aren’t going to believe this.  What do I even wear?” he questioned, frowning.

 “Whatever makes you feel confident.  Doesn’t really matter.  If the Boss decides to hire you, you’re not escaping.” she replied with a grin.

 David chuckled nervously.

 There were so many things I wanted to tell him about how fantastic home was, but I wasn’t certain what I could tell him yet.  Besides, nothing I said could really explain to him how wonderful our home is.