#but nobody gets to blame me for looking up a chem answer for help

[rpf-bat]

Scream Out ‘What Will Save Us?’

Pairing: Frank Iero x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 15. Prompt: “Catharsis.” 

Your band just broke up, and you’re trying to force yourself be okay with that. But, when you visit Frank, at his home in New Jersey, he advises you to be honest with your feelings. You find that he has some things to get off his chest, too. 

It had been six months now, since My Chemical Romance broke up. You hadn’t done much since then, except move back to your house in New Jersey, and….sit there. For the last eleven years of your life, you’d drummed for a living, and life had moved to a frenetic pace. There was always another city to travel to, another show to play. But, now? Life was suddenly at a standstill. 

You didn’t have to do anything for a living now, you supposed. The royalties alone, could probably sustain you, for years to come. Perhaps a millionaire like yourself, had no right to complain. Bullets You would, after all, kill to have Current You’s problems. 

But, having lived at both extremes, you found that being functionally homeless, in a dirty van with your four best friends, was more enjoyable, than being all alone, in this spotless mansion. You hadn’t joined My Chemical Romance to make money. There were other things that mattered more - the joy of spending time with friends, who slowly became more like family. The creative fulfillment, of writing a piece of music, and then having ten thousand fans sing along with the tune. These were the things, that made your life meaningful. 

These were the things, that you had now lost. 

The Way brothers - who, up until recently, had felt like your own brothers - were still residing in Los Angeles. Ray, too, had stayed on the West Coast. You hadn’t seen them since the decision was made, to disband. You weren’t sure that you even wanted to. 

But Frank - good, old, loyal Frank, who had known you longer than any of them - was merely a few miles down the road. Perhaps today was a good day to pay him a visit. 

You called him on your cell, and he answered the phone, almost immediately. Like you, he probably had nothing better to do. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Frank said in a tired voice. “How are you doing?”

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Just bored, I guess. How are you?” 

“Not so good,” Frank confessed. “I’ve been having, like, the worst stomachaches.” 

“Oh, no,” you said sympathetically. “Do you want me to bring you some medicine?” 

“The doc says I have a bacterial overgrowth of the small intestine,” Frank explained. 

“What does that mean?” you asked. 

“It means your drug-store Pepto ain’t gonna do shit for me,” Frank chuckled bitterly. “I got prescription pills for it, but it still hurts like a bitch. Some company might take my mind off the pain, though.”

“So...I can come over?” you asked hopefully. 

“Please do,” Frank agreed. “It’ll at least give me a reason, to get out of bed.” 

You chose not to mention that, at two o’clock in the afternoon, you had yet to find a reason to get out of bed yourself. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Frank’s house was nowhere near the main road. You had to drive through nearly half a mile of trees, just to reach his front door. He had selected this property partially because he loved nature - and partially because hated people. 

You supposed you couldn’t blame him, for trying to avoid having nosy fans show up on his doorstep. The only person who always seemed welcome on his doorstep, no matter the hour, was you. 

You found him sitting on his front steps, his acoustic guitar in his hands. The melody he was playing drifted over the air, as you got out of the car, and approached him. 

“Is that...Disenchanted?” you recognized instantly. 

“,,,..Yeah,” Frank sighed, his inked hands ceasing their strumming. “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Frankie,” you frowned. “What made you decide to play that one today?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said sadly. “Doesn’t it feel strange to you? Knowing that we’re never going to play that song onstage again?”

“Or any of them,” you noted. “If I had known that set at Bamboozle would be the last gig we ever played, I would have tried harder, to make it count.” 

“You and me both,” Frank said wistfully. “But, anyway….it’s a nice day. Do you want to take a walk with me?” 

“Sure,” you nodded, extending your hand to help him up. “As long as you’re feeling up to it.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Frank assured you, groaning as he stood. “C’mon.” 

You followed him, around the house, through his backyard, and from there, into the woods, that sat behind his home. The trees were beginning to lose their leaves, and the sky has turned overcast, and grey. Summer, you supposed, was just another thing that wouldn’t last. 

“Careful,” Frank warned, “there’s a brook up ahead.” 

You saw that was what he said was true. The small body of water separated the hill from the valley, in the same way that a garotte wire separated a head from a neck. 

“Take my hand,” Frank offered. “I don’t want you to fall.” 

You found yourself blushing, as his calloused fingers, intertwined with your own. He pulled you up onto a rock, in the center of the brook.  

“Are we going to have to jump?” you guessed. 

“Yeah, but don’t worry,” Frank said softly, “I got you.” 

He leapt from the rock, to the other side of the brook. Still holding hands, you leapt with him. Just as he’d promised, you made it to the other side safely. 

“It’s just a little further now,” Frank assured you. 

“What is?” you wondered. 

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically. He could have let go of your hand, but instead, he kept it held tightly in his own. You didn’t mind. 

“....Whoa,” you gasped, as you realized, that you’d arrived at your destination. You were at the top of a cliff. From here, you could see the whole city, stretched out before you. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Frank admired. 

“Yes!” you gasped. “Thank you for bringing up here! The view was totally worth the hike.” 

“I’m lucky as hell, to have a hidden gem like this, on my property,” Frank confessed. “I like to come up here sometimes, when I need to think.” 

“....What have you been thinking about lately?” you asked, sitting down on a boulder. 

“What happened with the band, of course,” Frank admitted, sitting down beside you. “I just….I don’t know. Gerard’s decision felt so sudden. It was like having the wind knocked out of me.” 

“Yeah,” you recalled. “It was like….it wasn’t fun anymore to him, so he just….dropped it. Like it was nothing.” 

“I’m not gonna pretend, that being in My Chem, was sunshine and roses all the time,” Frank acknowledged. “Sometimes, touring sucked.” 

“It did,” you admitted. “I hated the early bus calls, and the jet lag, that never seemed to go away. But, I don’t know. It was worth it, to go through all that, if it meant I would end my day, on a stage with you.” 

“I guess it wasn’t worth it to him anymore,” Frank frowned. “But, what can you do? You can’t continue a band, without its frontman.” 

“I guess our time was just up,” you shrugged. “All we can do, is move on.” 

“I know it was messing up his mental health, trying to write the new record,” Frank said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “It’s not right for us to ask him to keep doing something that’s hurting him.” 

“You’re right,” you sighed. “It’s not fair, to risk causing him another relapse, or something, just because we thought the album could’ve gone somewhere.”

“But now, you and me?” Frank grumbled, lighting a cigarette, and taking a drag. “We’re not gonna go fucking anywhere.” 

“We’re right back where we started,” you realized. “Stuck in the same little town in New Jersey, where it all began.” 

You and Frank, had been in another local band, called Pencey Prep. That band had broken up, and then Gerard, had asked you two, to join My Chemical Romance. Even before you’d become a member, you’d known just from listening to the demos, that this band would be something special. They’d captivated every soul, in the shitty dive bar, where you’d gone to see them play. 

After you and Frank joined their ranks, things began to pick up speed so quickly. Local bars, turned into clubs on the other side of the state. And then you’d attracted the interest of a major label. And then, the next thing you knew, you were playing in fucking Japan. Clubs turned into arenas. Obscurity turned into infamy. You’d done things, you never thought, you would have an opportunity to do.  It was a wild ride. And it was….over now. 

“It makes me want to scream sometimes,” you said honestly. 

“So, do it,” Frank said, exhaling smoke. 

“....What?” you blinked, staring back at him. 

“Go on and scream,” he suggested. “I mean, we’re in the middle of nowhere. Nobody’s going to hear you, except for me.”

“You’re serious?” you gaped. 

“Yeah,” Frank nodded. “Honestly? I think it would be cathartic.” 

He had a point - you’d been trying to hold a lot of emotions inside you, since everything went down. Maybe what you really needed, was to let them out. 

You went and stood, on the edge of the cliff, and looked out, onto the horizon. You took a deep breath, and tilted your head back. 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”  you cried.

You turned back, and saw that Frank was laughing. 

“....Did that feel good?” he grinned. 

“....Honestly, yeah, it did!” you admitted. It felt even better, to see a smile on his face, for the first time today. 

“You should just...feel what you feel, Y/N,” Frank advised. “You say we’re supposed to move on, and maybe that’s the narrative the fans want to hear. Like, they’re sad that they’ll never hear their favorite band live again. And it makes them feel better, to think, well, the band members did this, because it’s what made them the happiest.” 

“But, we don’t feel happy,” you argued. “At least, not all of us do.”

“What do you feel?” Frank asked seriously. 

“I feel….lost,” you described. “Like, I don’t know what my next move is supposed to be. The whole world knew me as My Chemical Romance’s drummer, for pretty much all of my twenties. Now, I’m hitting my thirties and...I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where we go from here.” 

“Well, I know that I want to keep making music,” Frank decided. “Even if nobody else wants to hear it, I’ll play it for myself.” 

“I want to hear it,” you said seriously. “Did you write something recently?” 

“Yeah,” Frank said shyly, stubbing his cigarette out into the dirt. “I actually did start writing a song, the other day.” 

“Play it for me,” you pleaded. 

“I don’t know,” Frank blushed. “I wrote some lyrics, but….you know I don’t have the gift for singing, that Gerard does.” 

“You sang in Pencey,” you reminded him. 

“Yeah, that was twelve years ago!” Frank scoffed. “Who knows if I even remember how?” 

“I know you can do it,” you encouraged him. 

“The lyrics, they’re not all that nice,” Frank warned. “I didn’t write them to be radio friendly. I just wrote them, because I needed to get the thoughts out of my head.”

“You needed your catharsis,” you nodded understandingly. 

“Yeah,” Frank sighed. “But….if you really want to hear it, Y/N, I’ll play it for you.”

He took out his guitar, and set it on his lap. Hesitant fingers plucked the strings. You listened, with rapt attention, as he began to sing: 

Some things change but they don't get better

I'm so sick and so tired of trying to tell them that

I'll never do it, no I'll never make it alone

But pay no mind, it fades in time

Don't we all?

Someone I love threw me away 

Someone I love threw me away

Someone I love threw me away

But I don't mind, no I don't mind at all

“That’s bullshit, Frank,” you interrupted. “You do mind.” 

“.....Of course I fucking mind,” Frank snapped. He looked up from his guitar, and you realized, that he had tears in his eyes. 

You moved over to where he sat, and pulled him into a hug. 

“It’s okay,” you told him gently. 

“It’s not,” Frank shook his head. “I gave my blood, sweat, and tears….my heart and my soul, to that band. I thought you and I were going to be in My Chemical Romance for the rest of our lives.” 

“What, like Mick Jagger?” you tried to smile. “Rocking out, even in his sixties?” 

“I don’t know,” Frank said, burying his face in his hands. “Maybe I’m the stupid one, for thinking that something like that, could last forever.” 

“You’re not stupid,” you said softly. “The truth is….I wanted it to last forever, too. It was the best thing I’d ever done. And now, I don’t know what else I can do with the rest of my life, that could even come close.” 

“If I decided to play that song, in front of other people, someday,” Frank asked, “would you play the drums for me?” 

“Of course,” you promised. “Frank, I’d jump at the chance to get onstage with you again. You should know that.”

“I feel like I don’t know anything anymore!” Frank said vulnerably. “Everything I thought I could count on, is slipping through my fingers. I feel lost. Just like you said. And  I’m aching all the time, Y/N. What if you’re the next thing, that I lose?” 

“I’ll never leave you, Frank,” you vowed. “It’s been you and me, from the very beginning. I couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t have you in it….in one way, or another.”

“You met me when you joined Pencey. But now, for the first time in my entire life, you’re not my band mate anymore,” Frank choked. “So…what am I to you?” 

“You’re my best friend,” you whispered, pulling him close. “And you could be more than that, if you wanted to.”

“Wh-What are you saying?” Frank gasped. 

“Frank….,” you took a deep breath. “The truth is, that I always wanted you. I never told you how I felt, because I thought, if we got into a relationship, and broke up, it would destroy our ability to work together. But….you’re right. We’re not bandmates anymore. So, I have nothing left to lose. I...I love you.” 

“You….love me?” Frank repeated, eyes wide. 

“Yes.” You put it all out there. “Yes, Frank, you’re the one I love. And if you would have me, I swear to you, I would never throw you away.” 

Frank surged forward, grabbing you by the collar, and pulling you in for a passionate kiss. Your startled mouth was suddenly full of his tongue. It felt so good. 

“....Frankie!” you gasped, pulling away. “You...you actually want me back?” 

“Of course I do,” Frank breathed. “It drives me absolutely fucking crazy, that we’ve both been burying our feelings this whole time, to protect a career, that no longer exists.” 

“...Then at least I still have you,” you whispered, and pulled him in again. He tasted like smoke and desperation. 

His body pressed against yours as he kissed you harder, pushing you down, against the hard rocks. His hands found the buttons of your blouse. 

“....Frank,” you stopped him. “We should go back down, to your house, if we’re going to do this.” 

“You’re right,” he chuckled. “My bed is a lot softer.” 

“Take me there,” you begged, laying your lips on him again. 

“Oh,” Frank promised, “I’ll take you all night.” 

#frank iero x reader #frank iero imagine #gothtober #band member reader

[bunnyhani]

Izuku Needs A Weight Blanket

Summary: "I've been thinking about this for awhile now... And I think you should try out a weight blanket, I'm pretty sure it would benefit you a lot." -Aizawa to Izuku. Basically: Izuku is in a need of a weight blanket, because he can't sleep and he's way too anxious. Dadzawa to the rescue.

Ship/Relationship: Platonic! Izuku Midoriya & Shouta Aizawa. (Basically AIzawa being a good teacher and a dad.)

Author’s Note and trigger warnings!! So there is anxious tendencies and thoughts. And there is unhealthy coping: Izuku knocks himself out to sleep. Also this fic does deal with depressing thoughts. If any of these things trigger you somehow, please be careful.

There is a part two just coming, with the title: Izuku Needs Therapy.

The knockout scene starts like this: He tried the one knockout point on his neck... And ends at: Yeah definitely not again.

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

Izuku sat on his bed, quietly humming to himself and fiddling with the hem of his nightshirt. It was already way past midnight, but he just couldn’t fall asleep. There was way too much going on in his exhausted mind, and the second he stopped fiddling with something, anxiety kicked in. It itched under his skin mercilessly. If he stopped, then his body would start jolting from time to time, as if he would get scared by someone continuously. Thankfully nobody really had noticed his jumpiness, since he has always been that kind of person and he normally fiddled with a lot of things, whether it was with his pen during class or his phone during lunch. Nobody was onto him and that made him both relieved and sad. He was happy that he wasn’t worrying anyone with his antics, but he was also sad that nobody really noticed his struggles. Maybe he had grown way too good at hiding behind a smile. Years of bullying and lying about it probably made it possible, he supposed. So he couldn’t really blame them. Besides, he was used to not being really seen, since all his life he had been a nobody. So the thought of someone seeing him, like really seeing him, made him want to curl up in a ball and just disappear.

Izuku slowly did lay down on his side and brought his knees to his chest, hugging his legs tightly. He could feel the anxious energy running inside of him, his fingers twitched. He gripped his knees tightly, nails digging into the flesh of his legs. He swallowed with difficulty and released a shuddering breath. You might be wondering why on earth was he this way. Well… Izuku was ashamed to admit, but during an exercise, Bakugo had slammed into him and his explosion had went off right next to his ear and burned his shoulder. It had scared him. The loud noise, the heat… It brought back memories that he wasn’t particularly fond of, and now he was on edge. All the time. It was like his body was on fight-or-flight -mode all the time. He just couldn’t relax. He couldn’t stop the anxiety from raging on and his body jolting randomly. Izuku squeeszed his eyes shut tightly and forced himself to take deep breaths. He really didn’t have time to have an anxiety attack at ass o’clock in the morning. He needed to sleep. S l e e p. But honest to God, he just couldn’t. He was so tired. So so tired. He’s had this same problem for a few weeks now and the anxiety that had his body gone rigid, was also draining his energy. Soon people would start seeing the cracks in his act that he tried so hard to keep up. He just wanted to sleep. Somewhere in the dark hours of the night, he did manage to fall asleep. Little did he know, his act would be busted very soon by someone, whom he wouldn’t have first guessed and gets help.

Izuku was brought back to reality by his awful alarm. He jumped and slammed his alarm off with a little too much force. The poor alarm clock shattered under his fist and he hissed under his breath. He rubbed his now sore fist tenderly and frowned. The alarm had scared him awake, but he still felt bad about the fact that he had actually broken it. He sighed heavily and left the shattered clock to his nightstand and moved on. He needed to wash his face, brush his teeth and get dressed. And cover his under eyes, a new part of his routine. Izuku sighed yet again and gingerly sat down onto the floor in front of his mirror. He grabbed his concealer, foundation, powder and his beauty blender. Some might think it was weird for a guy to own items like these, but he had grown used to them. Back then, he had used all this to cover bruises and some burns, so he really didn’t think too much of it. Besides, who was he to judge someone for wearing makeup? If it made someone happy, then they should go for it. It allowed the person to freely express themselves and it certainly didn’t hurt anyone. With those thoughts, he started blending his concealer under his eyes and lids with practiced hands. After he was done, he looked at himself in the mirror for a moment. He looked normal again. Izuku was still drained, both physically and mentally, but as long as he was breathing, that was good enough for him. (Okay, it wasn’t, but that was something he would have liked to believe.)

Izuku walked with Iida to homeroom class, with sleepiness hazing his mind. He tried to stay present and not get too lost in his head, since that was never the best thing. If he spaced out once, it would be hard not to space out again. So he focused on Iida’s calm tone, as he explained something about the chemistry homework they had last night. The chemistry homework that he had forgotten to do. A silent “fuck” was uttered under his breath and he frowned. “Is something wrong, Midoriya?” Iida asked, noticing his friend’s frown and sour mood. Izuku shook his head and pulled a sheepish smile to his lips, rubbing his neck in an awkward manner. “Yes, I’m okay. Just realized that I forgot to do the chem homework yesterday”, he said. Iida hummed in acknowledgment and after pondering for awhile he said: “I can help you during our free period. I will not give you the answers straight away, because that would cheating and highly unrespectable.” Izuku smiled brightly at that. “Ah, thank you, Iida-kun! It means a lot to me!” the green haired boy exclaimed with fist bump into the air. He was willing to work for it, and this was just good for him. Iida was good chemistry, while he wasn’t the worst, he wasn’t the best either. And the last chapter had been hard to understand. Probably because of all the lack of sleep was messing with him, his brain unhelpfully supplied. Shut up, he hissed in his head. Either way, he kind of has a tutor for the subject that he was struggling with recently and it was someone whom he genuinely liked, so he wasn’t about to complain. His steps felt a little lighter when the two of them walked to their homeroom.

Something that Izuku had definitely forgotten, was the nearly impossible battle against tiredness during classes. Aizawa-sensei’s voice was always calm, mono-tone but calm either way. It sounded a lot like a lullaby to him, especially on days like these. Izuku leaned forward and let his head fall heavily against the desk. It made quite a loud thud and he cried out quietly at the pain, slowly rubbing the spot on his forehead, that was sure to turn into a bump later during the day. But at least it woke him up. Then he flinched when he felt someone looking at him. Everything inside of him was screaming to run away and hide. He looked around carefully, moves stiff. Then he made eye contact with Aizawa-sensei. Izuku froze completely, staring back at his teacher. Then, his body also decided to betray him. He flinched. And it wasn’t a small flinch either, it was a full body one that definitely didn’t go unnoticed by his teacher, if him quirking his eyebrow at Izuku was anything to go by. Everyone else seemed to be completely unaware of the interaction and slowly Izuku forced himself to look away. He had not done anything wrong. He was fine. The class went on as Aizawa-sensei rolled back into his sleeping bag. Izuku exhaled out slowly. Maybe he was lucky enough that Aizawa-sensei wouldn’t say anything of that. After all, he had no reason to. His grades were suffering just a little bit and he hadn’t answered in classes as much. But that wasn’t enough for someone to just stay back and have a talk, right? Right?

Wrong. Izuku was very wrong and very dumb. Usually Izuku considered himself to be pretty smart and capable of great analysing skills and being reasonable, but at that moment, he self-proclaimed himself as one of the biggest dumb asses he has ever known. Of course his teacher would want to talk to him. Aizawa was no fool (unlike him cough cough), and he was as observant as ever. It was basically his job, to be able to observe others around and read the situation going on. If he wasn’t, then he wouldn’t be a very good hero. But seriously, he was sharper than other teachers. Or just maybe he had encountered very arrogant and careless teachers before that did not give a crap of his well-being. Thankfully the teachers at UA were sincerely interested in them and wanted the best for them.

The moment Izuku was ready to sprint out of the classroom to escape the talk with his teacher, Aizawa was faster. “Midoriya, please stay behind. I have something to discuss with you”, the black haired hero said, while maintaining a steady eye contact. Dejectedly, Izuku nodded and sat down back onto his chair, while they waited for everyone else to leave. Uraraka sent a concerned look to him, but he just shook his head and gave a small smile, hoping that it would reassure her enough. She smiled back, a little hesitantly, but it was enough. After everyone was gone, the silence that settled over them felt suffocating. Izuku started to fiddle with his sleeves almost immediately, but flinched again, when he felt Aizawa-sensei’s eyes on him. He moved his hands behind his back, wringling with them behind his back. The silence was becoming a bit too much for him. “Ah, you wanted to discuss something with me…?” He asked unsurely. Aizawa nodded and gestured him to come closer to him, since he was at the back of the class, still at his seat. Izuku walked over, but still left some space between them. For some reason, it felt safer that way. Aizawa narrowed his eyes, but said nothing of it. The man then sighed and asked: “Problem child, what is going on?” Izuku knew that he would cut straight into the point, but still hadn’t prepared him for it. He flinched again. “Nothing. Everything’s fine”, the boy answered lamely. “Oh really? Then why do I hear from other teachers that you easily doze off or space out in classes and flinch without a good reason?” Aizawa pointed out. Izuku seriously wanted to rip his hair out. There was no escaping him. Aizawa was patient and had his way with words, right now, Izuku couldn’t say the same about himself. He was so tired that he could barely form proper excuses. Aizawa took in his silence and took that as his que to keep poking. “So?” He asked. Did Izuku already mention that he wanted to cry? If not, he surely did. Izuku head was empty of excuses, yet his brain was working overtime trying to think of anything rational to say. He couldn’t exactly just spill the truth like that, since just no. He knew very well that it wasn’t shameful at all to sometimes to get like this, every hero went through it. Izuku just feared that if he now said something, Aizawa would be keeping a closer eye on him in the future and would most definitely notice that his anxiety levels were always a little too high to be considered normal. And that would lead to more talks, where he was asked more questions that he didn’t want to answer. And in the end, the truth would be forced out of him eventually. And then they would ask him to go to psychologist or therapist and then the therapist would say that he wasn’t capable of being a hero. So, he had to stop the spiral from even starting. Maybe he was thinking too far into the future and just went overboard, but he couldn’t exactly just say “stop” to his mind.

Aizawa was still patiently waiting for him to start talking. Izuku had been quiet for too long. The boy forced himself together and finally said: “Okay… So maybe there is something going on… I’ll fix it though. It’s okay. Sorry for making you worry.” The pro-hero just looked at his student but Izuku forced himself not to break in front of his teacher. “Fine. However, if you do not ‘fix it’, as you said, I will be talking to you again and then I won’t be waiting for answers”, the teacher said. Izuku nodded, bowed and with quick steps, he left classroom as quickly as he could, while trying not to make it too obvious that he really would have rather been anywhere else except there. Aizawa shook his head. The resident problem child continued to living up to his name. He would have to look after him a little more closely from now on. No matter how much Aizawa wanted to deny it, he was worried. Despite what others might believe, he did genuinely care for his class and would go to long lengths to keep his students safe and give the best for them. That didn’t always mean the most pleasant options, but if that was for the best, then he would do it.

Izuku rushed through the day, trying to redeem himself already. The quicker he got started, the better. He found himself to be pinching himself multiple times to keep himself awake and suppressing his frequent flinches. He somewhat made it through with okay results. But there was still the question that how on earth would he get his much needed sleep. If he didn’t fix it soon, then his school performance would start suffering even more,which would for sure get Aizawa onto his tail again. And soon his concealer and foundation wouldn’t be enough to cover his dark eye circles. They were already kind of reflecting from under there. Maybe he should google knockout points on a human’s body, he thought to himself as he did his Japanese homework.

He tried the one knock out point on his neck last night and wasn’t planning on trying it again. His neck was kind of hurting and he realized how uncontrolled the whole thing was. Izuku realized how dumb idea that had been, but honestly, at 2am almost any idea would seem pretty good. This was no exception. But he decided not to do it again, he didn’t exactly trust himself doing it again when he was sleep deprived and would probably manage to harm himself. Like what would he do if he accidentally paralyzed himself or broke his whole neck. Shudders shook his shoulders and he grimaced. Yeah, definitely not again.

By the end of the week, Izuku was seriously questioning that should he just go Recovery Girl and ask for some kind of sleeping pill or something that would help him sleep. And ask for some kind of relaxing methods. He was so done with the never stopping anxiety and the flinches it brought with it. It was only 1am and he got the brilliant idea of getting up and go to the dorm kitchens to make himself some tea. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the fact that the reason he never went to the kitchens or any common areas during the night was because he didn’t seriously want to be caught. He knew that a lot of students were getting caught that way, so he kept to himself in his room, no matter how suffocating it sometimes was. But now, he just wanted to drink some tea and sit on the kitchen chair and space out. There was a feeling in his stomach that kept telling him that this was the night that he was going to be busted. He didn’t care. Maybe he wanted to get busted.

Izuku stood next to the stove, watching the water to slowly start boiling. “Problem child. Why are you up at 1am?” Aizawa’s voice came from right behind him. Izuku flinched hard, even though he was kind of expecting the teacher to come at some point, he didn’t expect him to come so soon. He placed his hand over his racing heart and swallowed with difficulty. His breath came out in small wheezy puffs. “Making tea”, he murmured back, shoulders still tense as he felt Aizawa still looming over his much shorter figure. Aizawa hummed and moved back, giving him space. Izuku’s shoulders didn’t relax much but enough that they weren’t going to start cramping in the next 5 seconds. The silence is fine, he thought to himself as he moved around the kitchen, preparing his tea. After it was done, he slid to a kitchen chair, pulling his legs to his chest and leaned his chin onto his knees. The tea cup rested on the table, steaming and warming his cheeks. He slowly took a sip of the delicious tea.

“Why are you really awake, Midoriya? I doubt you just decided to wake up at 1am to brew some tea”, the teacher inquired with a quiet voice. Izuku smiled bitterly. “Yeah, maybe not… Sleeping is hard”, he replied, his eyes still glued onto the steaming cup. Aizawa hummed, wordlessly urging him to continue talking. Now that the student was completely still, he had a chance to really look at him. As if realizing that he was being seen, Izuku shuddered, glancing at Aizawa. What caught the teacher a bit off-guard was the sight of the teen’s eye circles, which were surprisingly dark. He still thought that letting Izuku talk on his own was the best course of action, since he seemed a bit more relaxed than usual so he didn’t want to scare the boy into shutting him completely out. “I can’t sleep. I haven’t been able to for awhile. Been too anxious. And because I’m not getting enough sleep, I’m getting more anxious and because I’m so anxious, I can’t fall asleep”, Izuku finally said numbly. Aizawa made a little “oh” sound. Made sense. Izuku was kind of caught in an endless circle. A nasty one at that, Aizawa himself had dealt with that one himself too so he couldn’t help the sympathetic pang in his chest. “What’s making you anxious?” Aizawa finally decided to ask. Izuku heaved in a sharp breath. This was the part which made him the most nervous. “A lot of things… At first it was just one thing and then it kind of hung onto everything. Now I just can’t relax. I can’t even sit completely still longer than 5 or 10 minutes”, he said quietly, looking away from his teacher. “What happens if you won’t move?” The hero asked. He had his own  suspicions, but still waited for Izuku’s reply. “I flinch. So I try to fiddle with things as much as I can, but sometimes even that’s not enough”, Izuku said after a while. So he had been right. “I’ve tried to relax and just sleep, but it’s not really happening. I’ve tried some really dumb things too… Like knocking myself out. And before you start lecturing me, I know, it was dumb, but in my defense it was like 2am… So like every dumb idea seems kinda good”, he continued rambling. It felt a bit relieving to be finally able to talk. But at the same time he was thinking that he really should shut up already. Aizawa rubbed his face with his hand. “I’ll figure out something. For now, I’ll be more forging if I catch you sneaking out at night. Just… Keep trying to sleep, okay?” The tired man said to his student. Izuku nodded in agreement. Maybe he would be fine eventually. “Oh. Why are you awake, Aizawa-sensei?” Izuku asked, slowly leaning a little more towards his teacher over the table.

It had been a few days since Aizawa and Izuku's little chat in the dorm kitchens at night. At first, Izuku wasn't able to even look at his teacher in the eyes and he was kind of freaked out. He had spilled. He had one win though! Aizawa hadn't asked what was the thing that at first had caused him anxiety. Although he was sure it was going to come at some point, since… It was Aizawa, okay? Aizawa just didn't forget to ask something or leave business unfinished. So he probably had some kind of motive why he didn't bring it up right away. Was he reading too much into it? Maybe luck was on his side just this once and Aizawa had forgotten about it and just wouldn't ever ask about it. Highly unlikely, but it never hurt to hope. He really wasn’t up for answering those questions, but he was afraid that he wouldn’t have a say in the matter. With his luck, he most likely didn’t. His grip on his pencil tightened again and he the inside of his cheek.

“Izuku! Stay after class”, Aizawa called out to him when the bell rang. Izuku nodded, but internally he was sighing and cursing the whole thing down to Hell. Uraraka and Iida stared at him for a moment and Izuku felt compelled to say with a small smile: “I’ll catch up to you in lunch. Save me a seat.” Both smiled back in response, seemingly pleased with him answering and talking to them. That kind of made Izuku realize how quiet he had been and he was instantly hit with a wave of guilt. Of course they would forgive him, but he just felt bad. He had been more or less ignoring his friends and kept them in the dark about the whole ordeal. Then he stopped at that thought. He hadn’t told anyone of his struggles, Aizawa just had been there to press at the “correct timing”, unfortunately his friends hadn’t had the same luck as their teacher. He should tell them what has been going on but it felt bad. And he hasn’t even resolved the problem, he really didn’t want to worry her friends and make them think about his problems. It made him feel like a burden. He had to focus on something else, otherwise he would get sucked into that “I’m the worst possible person on this earth, I shouldn’t be here” -hole, which was never easy to get out of. He was getting slightly better with it, but it was never pleasant. Izuku zoned back in time, as Aizawa just repeated his name probably for the third time. “Sorry… I got lost in thought. What did you want to talk about?” Izuku asked the teacher. It looked like Aizawa’s eye had twitched at that but it was gone as fast as it had appeared so Izuku blamed it on his lack of sleep. “I've been thinking about this for awhile now... And I think you should try out a weight blanket, I'm pretty sure it would benefit you a lot”, the teacher said after a moment of silence. The first thought that went through Izuku’s head was “A what now?”, before he remembered reading about it in the internet some time ago. “Ah, sure but uh… How so?” Izuku asked. “There has been done some research on weight blankets. Because of it’s weight, it’s mimicking a therapeutic technique called deep pressure stimulation. So it’s good, since deep pressure makes the nervous system to calm down”, he explained. Izuku nodded and pondered his options. “Can I google it really quickly now?” he asked, hands already sliding into his uniform pocket. Aizawa nodded and yawned. Looks like he wasn’t the only one losing sleep. Well… Aizawa always looked like he was constantly in need of sleep. Quickly Izuku googled everything he needed to. He took a deep breath and looked back to his teacher, who had at one point during his googling, went to his sleeping bad and lied down on the floor. “I’ll take it”, Izuku said. Aizawa looked back up to him and nodded. “It’ll probably come in a few days. I’ll give it to you in the dorms when it arrives”, he informed the nervous teen, who just nodded back, bowed and ran to the cafeteria to his friends.

Just like Aizawa said, the teacher waited one late evening for everyone slowly go to their own rooms and took a gentle hold of Izuku’s shoulder. Izuku jumped at the sudden contact and looked to his teacher. Then teacher pulled something from behind his back and handed the heavy packet to Izuku. Izuku looked at his teacher questioningly, until he remembered. “Is this the…?” Izuku asked while slightly petting the packaging. Aizawa nodded. Without wasting any more time, Izuku and Aizawa went to his room and entered in. Izuku felt a little bit awkward having his teacher in his room, but he was too tired to start freaking out. He could leave that for tomorrow. He scrambled to his bed and ripped the packaging off of the heavy blanket. After little struggling, Aizawa took the packaging and opened it without any trouble. At that, Izuku did blush. “Lay down, problem child”, the teacher said in a bored tone. “What?” the boy asked in confusion. “Just do it”, Aizawa hissed lowly. Izuku complied, but he was confused. If he had been any more awake, he would’ve probably figured out what was going on but he wasn’t. The stoic man set the blanket on top of him and kind of tucked him in. Izuku looked at his teacher in disbelief. “We still need to consult Recovery Girl about taking up melatonin and you definitely should talk to your friend. And we still need to discuss about what got you so anxious in the first place. But for now, sleep”, the man said and stepped back. Izuku nodded sleepily. Aizawa got only to his room’s door, when Izuku called out to him again in a quiet voice: “Aizawa-sensei.” Aizawa hummed as a reply, showing him that he was paying attention. “Thank you for doing this… Thank you for worrying. Good night”, the teen said with a yawn. Aizawa took a deep breath and smiled lightly. “Good night, problem child”, the man said back in a soft tone. If anyone asked, he would deny ever using a tone like that. The last thing Izuku remembered thinking was: “Thank you, you’re a good teacher and a hero, Dadzawa.”

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya #shouta aizawa #uraraka ochacho #tenya lida #dadzawa #platonic relationships #bnha deku #boku no academia #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero scenarios #my hero academia scenarios #my hero academia imagines #deku

[anotherisodope]

Fic/RP starter: Time For a New Employer

[Charon finds himself without a contractor after a trip to the Commonwealth with Ahzrukhal goes completely wrong.]

There’s a strange sound coming from the room Charon’s been sharing with Ahzrukhal at the Rexford Hotel. Dragging, scraping noises, and a kind of low, raspy breathing that doesn’t sound like his employer. Now and again, he hears the smash or clatter of something being knocked to the floor.

None of this is a good sign.

Charon listens, frowning, from outside the door. Ahzrukhal’s been in there two days, having disappeared into the room with a pile of chems and booze, leaving Charon with the unexpected demand that he “get the hell out and stay out”. So he’s been stuck outside, guarding the door...subjected to the curiosity and attempts at small talk of the surprisingly many passerby.

“Is he all right in there?” It’s the ghoul in the dun-colored fedora again, a mousy, nervous man who took hours of peeking out of his room before he came to say hello. He’s harmless, not obnoxious, doesn’t bother Charon much, though he’s obviously curious. “Your friend, I mean?”

Charon unfolds his arms and glances behind him as a hoarse growl sounds just inches beyond the door. No. It doesn’t sound like Ahzrukhal at all.

“Stay away from the door,” he advises the man, who nods and takes an extra step backward.

***

Things started to go to Hell a few weeks before Charon left Underworld.

The Brotherhood of Steel had brought clean water to the area. But the price was too steep for ghouls. Especially under that new asshole. Talk about a fanatic. They had never seen much difference between normal ghouls and ferals. Now, they always opened fire. 

Ten years into their “liberation” of the Capital Wasteland, and the Brotherhood started really causing problems. Rumors of attacks and disappearances ran through Underworld. Charon kept his ears open, slowly putting together why the other ghouls were so scared, and watched to see what would happen. There was little that he could do.

Ahzrukhal stopped paying scavengers for booze, stopped sending Charon out on jobs. First time in forty years. He was quiet. Thinking too much.

The others noticed. Got nervous. Some drank to keep nervousness away.

Barrows argued that the clinic couldn’t leave. He had made too much progress. The ghoul community needed a place to come for care. He had to stay there, or those who came looking for help would find none.

That poor, idealistic fool couldn’t figure out that there would be no clinic, and nobody to keep his work going, if the fucking Brotherhood rolled in and cleared the place out with miniguns. He and a lot of the others wanted to keep what the ghouls there had for as long as they could. It was stupid, but Charon found he couldn’t blame them much.

Then the Brotherhood hit Tenpenny Towers, and the ghoul colony that had lived there for ten years. Their attempt to secure a home after being locked out came to a violent end with no warning. The booms and sounds of shattering glass and concrete haunted the area all day.

Ahzrukhal took off that night, abandoning the others and loading Charon down with his caps and possessions. Charon went, hoping the others would be smart and scatter, but knowing he couldn’t have gotten them to listen. They had always seen him as just Ahzrukhal’s goon.

***

Charon frowns. He has his orders, but he also knows that this situation isn’t normal. Whatever is walking around in there isn’t talking. Ahzrukhal rarely shuts up.

“Ahzrukhal!” he calls through the door, his raised voice making the ghoul next to him jump slightly. “Can you hear me?”

Another low, rattling growl.

“Th-that sounds like a feral,” the smaller man gasps out, pressed against the far wall now. “Do you think he...do you think he changed?”

Charon’s jaw tightens. There's no ghoul alive who doesn’t fear losing their mind someday. Barrows has devoted his life to finding a way to prevent it, or cure ghoulism altogether. But they’re a long way from Underworld now, and what’s shuffling around in their room doesn’t sound like it has a mind left to save.

“I do not know,” he admits. But meanwhile, he’s thinking of the contract, and the prospect of being without an employer for the first time in decades. And what that means. “He did not show any signs during our journey.”

Despite his calm tone, there’s a heavy ball of ice in the pit of his stomach. I don’t want to go back.

But if his employer really has lost his mind, and no one else picks up Charon’s contract, he knows that’s what will happen.

***

Passing through Jersey on their long, dangerous way up the coast did bad things to Charon’s head. The Facility was there. That place he didn’t want to return to.

Even walking within fifty miles of the place stirred things up inside him. The few bits of memory that surfaced disturbed him before they sank out of sight again, leaving him cold and bewildered and feeling strangely...vulnerable.

He couldn’t exactly call it fear. He didn’t feel fear, at least not for himself. It had been burned out of him. But still, all the long time that he and Ahzrukhal plodded up the Jersey coastline, he caught himself mumbling and growling more than usual, and was glad that he never had to sleep. Or dream.

He didn’t breathe freely again until they crossed into the Commonwealth.

***

”Should I go get someone?”

He looks back at the little man with a frown. He’s trying to be helpful, but Charon isn’t used to that. The ghouls of Underworld could be friendly enough, but not toward him. Here, he’s not known as simply an extension of a guy nobody in town likes. Nobody knows him at all.

That’s plain from the little man’s concern.

Charon’s brow knits as he puts together his answer carefully. He has to really think about it, and the effort makes his head sting.  “No. Just watch. If he has gone feral and I must kill him, it will be helpful to have a witness.”

The man swallows hard and nods, moving a little further away. “I will, then. For as long as it’s safe to do so.”

That’s more courage than Charon expected. He nods once. “Good.”

***

They settled in the Slog for a while, but nobody there had time for Ahzrukhal’s bullshit. They wanted ghouls who were willing to work, and a pile of caps only did so much to mitigate that. 

Charon didn’t farm, or scavenge, or build. He guarded the perimeter. He killed fucking monsters. He didn’t belong chest-deep in a tarberry bog, and after so many years Ahzrukhal knew not to push it. So they moved on. Which was too bad. Despite having nothing in common with him, the ghouls of the Slog were kind and friendly. Just like the woman that Ahzrukhal had wanted dead.

One of the women at the Slog flirted with him before they left. Kept trying to get his attention. He was more polite and honest than usual with her. Ahzrukhal didn’t give him time off, and his on-duty rules were clear. No booze. No chems.

No women.

He explained this to her, and she seemed shocked and angry--but at Ahzrukhal, not at him. He didn’t really understand why. But after that, as they made their way to the only other ghoul-heavy settlement Ahzrukhal knew about, Charon found himself thinking now and again that he would have liked to stay. Places like that needed protectors, after all.

But he never got a say in who or what he guarded, or who or what he was sent against. So when his employer turned his back on the Slog, so did he.

***

Charon draws his shotgun, glancing back at the other ghoul. “I do suggest that you run if this becomes violent.” Holding his favorite firearm one-handed, he grips the doorknob and then turns it.

Growling and skittering beyond the door. He hears rapid pacing.

He shoulders the door open with a bang and moves into the room, fully intending to shut it behind him and seal himself in with...it.

But he doesn’t have time. The smaller form that slams into him has surprising strength behind its rush, knocking him back against the flimsy, cracked wood of the door and shattering it.

They tumble out into the hallway as the guy outside yells in panic.

***

Ahzrukhal clearly hated Goodneighbor. He couldn’t be the only chem dealer in town there, there was already a bar, and nobody had time for his facade of high manners and smooth talk. The flamboyant but quick-bladed mayor, Hancock, started watching them right away, giving Charon’s employer a brief, steel-in-velvet warning on welcoming him, and looking at Charon curiously.

And then, not three days later, the goddamned Brotherhood of Steel zeppelin showed up in the Commonwealth sky. It became clear that the enemy they had sought to escape was already here. Ghouls in this region just couldn’t catch a break.

Ahzrukhal snapped. He had been uprooted from his cushy home and position, he couldn’t get away with anything anymore, and now the Brotherhood had arrived with a fanfare. He started descending into booze and chems himself instead of slinging them, relying on Charon to scare off all the ass-kickings he bought with his slimy behavior while haunting the Third Rail.

More and more, he didn’t even go out. He stayed in his room--and he started sending Charon away. Normally Charon would have been delighted to get away from his employer. But this time, he could sense that something was wrong. He just didn’t know what to do about it, or even if he should.

***

It’s a feral. Eyes fixed and completely filmed over, like white marbles in its skull. The pale pinstripe suit and sprigs of dark hair are familiar. The remnants of too-sweet cologne, acrid jet fumes and alcohol are familiar too. As Charon jams the stock of his shotgun into its jaws to keep it from biting and starts forcing it off of him, he knows he’s looking at what’s left of Ahzrukhal.

The little man in the hat scrambles away, crying out at the top of his lungs. “One of the guests has gone feral! We need help!”

Charon doesn’t. If his employer’s mind is gone, then he is gone. This is just a feral now. He knows what to do with ferals.

He just wonders how any ghoul could go from fully sane to feral in just two days.

He feels dull regret as he uses leverage and superior strength to flip the thing over and pin it down with a knee in its midsection. It squalls and writhes underneath him, snapping at him, and he raises the butt of his shotgun and slams it into the side of its head. Once. Twice.

Bones crunch and it collapses under him. He gets off of it, steps back, reverses the shotgun, and blows off its head with a single shot.

The boom echoes down the hall as he stands panting over the twitching corpse.

This isn’t how I wanted to kill you, he thinks, the disappointment digging in deeper even as the relief of Ahzrukhal’s death washes over him. You weren’t even here to feel it.

But it’s done...

...and now, he has another problem.

He slides his shotgun into its back sheath and steps further away from the corpse, eyes fixed on it.

The contract will be in Ahzrukhal’s moneybelt, under his clothes. But Charon can’t bring himself to retrieve it. The moment he lays his hand on that piece of paper, his programming will kick in, and he’ll turn around and start walking.

Back to Jersey.

To be debriefed, tested, processed, and sent out again with another contractor, making Them another small fortune in caps.

Just like every other time he's been left with a dead employer, or one stupid enough to invalidate his contract.

I don’t want to go back.

But the alternative is to stay here, and hope that someone picks up his contract. He can stay away from Jersey if that happens. But that leaves him at the mercy of any passerby. For all he knew,

His head whirls as he struggles to figure out what to do. There’s no clear protocol here, aside from returning to the Facility.

But even as he backs up against the wall and leans against it, scarred face blank with what almost looks like shock, it enters his head that the jet fumes still wafting out of that room just don’t smell quite right....

[Hey guys, hope you enjoyed! DM me if you want to turn this into a line, I’d like to use this as a jumping off point for something.]

#fallout #fallout 3 #fallout 4 #open rp #charon #roleplay #my fanfic

[blerbdrops]

New Kid (Billy Hargrove X F!Reader) Part 2

Thanks for sticking with me! Here is part two of New Kid. It is kinda wordy and descriptive. I hope you all enjoy it!

Summary: You’re new in Hawkins, hailing from the big city on the east coast.As a city kid, you think you’ve been stuck here to suffer in a small town, but there’s a certain someone who shakes it all up. 

Warnings: Mentions of smoking, swearing

Taglist: @salemlysi @asheseiler

You locked up your car, looking at it one last time and sighing happily. You loved your family, the family you had left. You made a mental note to remind yourself to call your uncle when you got home and tell him how appreciative you are for your new ride. 

Walking down the lot, you heard loud laughter and felt eyes on you. Like someone was staring through you, not at you. You heard footsteps trailing not too far off from you. Minding your business, you kept it pushing to the front doors of your school to the main office before class started.

“Hi, uh, I’m new here. My name is (y/n) (y/l/n). I was told to come pick up my schedule here.” The secretary looked up over her wire-frame glasses. 

“Hello! Let me grab that for you. Wouldn’t want you to walk into the wrong class now!” She pulls open a file cabinet organized by last name and flips through all the files before getting yours out. 

“Ah! Here you are (y/n). There’s your schedule for your first semester here. As a senior, you are expected to set a good example for the juniors and the rest of the student body here at Hawkins High…”

You half-heartedly listened to the spiel she had started. It’s not like you hadn’t heard it before. Based off of first impressions alone, you thought Hawkins High to be.. quaint. It was just another run-of-the mill high school. You took a quick glance and met the gaze of some random blond dude with a mop of curls atop his head. He gave you a quick wave and a wink and kept walking. You gave him a half smile and directed your attention back on the secretary, who was almost done talking. 

“...Now, before I let you off to go on your own, do you have any questions for me?” 

“No, everything was pretty straight forward. Thank you! I appreciate it.” 

She raised her eyebrows shocked, like nobody had ever appreciated her. She smiled kindly at you. “Thank you, (y/n). Enjoy the rest of your day!”

“You too, miss!” You walked out of the office, looking down to find your first class. The bell had just rang. “Shit, am I late?”

“Hey! You look new. And lost. Who are you?” A boy with sculpted brown hair and a kind face asked you. 

“Oh. Hey! Yeah I’m new. Name’s (y/n). Nice to meet you.” You extended your hand towards him. He reached out and shook your hand. 

“I’m Steve! Nice to meet you too. Let me see your schedule, we probably have some classes together..” He took your schedule from your hands and looked it over. 

“Oh, sweet! We have english, math and chem together. I can walk you to english, even though we’re gonna be a little late.” He shrugs.

“I’d appreciate that a lot, actually. I have no clue where anything is. Except the main office.” You continued. “Plus, you can blame being late on me. I’m new, and you’re being real kind.”

“Alright, sounds good to me. To english we go! Bit of a heads up, Mr. Kowalski is kind of a dick.” 

You laughed. “Yeah, so am I. Him and I can have a dick-measuring contest.” 

Moments later, you and Steve arrived to Mr. Kowalski’s class. Mr. Kowalski didn’t seem too pleased to have not one, but two late students to his class. 

“Mister Harrington. You’re late. No surprise to me, you’re always late.” Mr. Kowalski sneered to him. Steve didn’t really seem to care, he just let it roll right off of him. 

“I could’ve skipped, you know. But I apologize for being late, I uh, was helping the new girl find her way here.” He gestures over to you, and you give a small wave to the balding man in front of the blackboard. His face lit up. 

“Apology accepted, Mister Harrington! Have a seat now.” Steve went to an empty desk in the back row of the class, leaving you by yourself. Not wanting to seem rude, you introduce yourself to the teacher. 

“Uh, hi Mr. Kowalski. I’m (y/n) (y/l/n). Nice to meet you.” You extended your hand, to which he shook warmly. 

“Hello Miss (y/l/n)! Very nice to meet you! Why don’t you take the desk next to Mister Hargrove?” He gestures to the only open seat. You look and it’s the same guy you saw in the office. You walk over to the seat and sit down, taking out a notebook and pencil to jot down some notes. 

As Mr. Kowalski drones on about Othello, you jot down notes in between daydreams. You had already read and studied Othello at your old school junior year, the notes just kept you awake. You gave your friends your address, hoping they’d write you letters or something.  

“Pssst. Hey. New kid.” You hear a whisper from the left of you. It was the blond kid from earlier. 

“Yes?” You turned your head towards him, mid-sentence. This is the most you’ve seen of him, and you gave him a quick once-over. He had bright blue eyes, long eyelashes, full brows. He had a scar through his left brow, which gave his face some character. Full pink lips that hid a killer Colgate smile, and sculpted curls. You realized he had a mullet. You had never seen one so well executed before. He was easy on the eyes. 

“Do you have an extra pencil I could borrow?” 

“Yeah sure.” You go into your pencil case and pull out a yellow #2 pencil and handed it to him. “Here, keep it. I have extras.”

“Thanks, doll.” He smirked at you.

“I have a name. It’s (y/n). Use it next time, doll.” You retorted.

He raised his eyebrows at you, impressed by your smart remark. You turned away and continued taking notes until class was over. Mr. Kowalski assigned the class to read some of Othello and answer questions in a study guide. 

You raised your hand. “Uh, Mr. Kowalski? I don’t have the book. Or the homework.” 

“Ah, I see. Here you are. Catch up with the rest of the class, we are halfway through the book.” He walks to your desk and hands you your assignment. You place it in your folder, which goes into your backpack. 

“Alright, class dismissed! And there will be a quiz tomorrow. Study for it. That includes you, Miss (y/l/n).” 

You nodded, packed up for class and left, finding Steve in the hallway.

“Hey, he isn’t as much of a dick like you said he was. He was kinda nice!”

“Pft. It’s only because you’re new and you’re a girl. He’s a dick to the boys.” He continued though. 

You and Steve were on your way to chemistry class when that blond kid, whose name you still have yet to catch, stops dead in Steve’s tracks. 

“Hey. Harrington.” 

“What, Billy? You don’t see me walking (y/n) to class?” Steve retorts back. You watch them size each other up. It feels like you’re in a game of monkey in the middle, except the ball is a time bomb.

“Since when did you care about going to class, or other people for that matter?” 

“I’ve always cared, jackass. Screw off.” He continues. “Plus, shes new and we have a few classes together.”

You interject, “Do you take chemistry second period, uh, Billy?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Cool great see you two there.” You simply state and walk off, not trying to be late or caught up in between whatever those two were going to get into.

After finding your way to chemistry class, Steve and Billy beat you there. You got in right as the bell went off. 

“You must be (y/n), the new student! Welcome to chemistry. There’s an available seat at the lab table in the back. Go sit! We’re starting a new lab today.”

You look in the back, and the empty seat is next to Billy, and two other kids you didn’t know. They all looked like trouble. You walked back and sat on the stool, Billy directly across from you. The girl next to you glared at you, chewing her gum like a cow. It was really off-putting, and quite distracting. 

“Hey, could you not chew your gum like that? It’s kinda distracting.” You say politely. She rolled her eyes at you and kept at it, if not chewing louder. 

“Carol that’s gross. Stop it, for real.” The boy across from her says. She scoffs and stops. You give him a silent thank you and he just nods in your direction. The teacher, Ms. McCarthy is about to give out instructions when the fire alarm goes off. 

“Alright, this is a fire drill. You know what to do.” She says nonchalantly. You grabbed your stuff and slung it over your shoulder and filed out to the parking lot with the rest of the class

Once reaching the parking lot, you beelined it to your car and sat on top of the trunk, setting your backpack down next to you. You pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in between your lips, bringing your lighter up to it and inhaling. 

“Can I bum one off you?” The gruff voice asked. It was Billy. You rolled your eyes, reluctant to give up one of your precious smokes. 

“You never have any of your own shit, kid? Seriously, nobody likes a moocher.” You took a drag off your cig and blew the smoke away from him. 

He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Kid? We’re probably the same age. Are you gonna give me one or not?” 

You smile at him and chuckle. “Of course I’m not! Not with that attitude. Ask again.” You continue to enjoy your cigarette. 

“Are you serious?” You raise an eyebrow at him. He sighs, “May I please have a cigarette?”

“You may. See? Being nice gets you the things you want.” You hand him a smoke and watch him place it between his lips, watching the orange filter sit on them lazily. He has really nice lips, you think to yourself. The snap of his lighter snapped you out of your daze. He smirks at you. “Like something you see, doll?”

“Hmm.. nah.” He’s floored with your response. He wasn’t expecting that kind of response, not with the way you had been looking at him. 

“Hm. Could’ve had me fooled.” He says, a bit coldly. You disregarded him and watched as the Hawkins Fire Department came out of the school and gave the all-clear. The students and faculty filed back in. You dropped your cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. You walked back to the main entrance, Billy right next to you.

It was quiet for a bit. You preferred it that way, you hated small talk. Until Billy opened his mouth. “Hey. Thanks for the uh, pencil earlier and the cigarette.” He says, keeping his gaze forward. 

“Yeah sure. Bring your own shit next time, moocher.” You ended your sentence with a chuckle. 

He laughed along with you. He was starting to understand the way your humor worked, if that was what you could call it. 

“Nice ride by the way. Bit of a mans car though, wouldn’t you say?” He asked.

“Mans car? The hell does that mean?” You go on to continue, a bit annoyed. “Mans car, womans car, it don’t matter. At the end of the day, its my car, right?”

Billy put his hands up defensively. “Hey, you got a point there sweetheart.”

“I know.” The lunch bell had rung and you slipped into the masses, leaving Billy by himself.

----

Finding a seat in the classroom was one thing. The cafeteria was a nightmare. Your dad had packed you lunch today. He packed you the perfect ham and cheese sandwich, some chips, and a bottle of apple juice. You looked around the cafeteria only to hear a familiar voice call for you.

“Hey! Hey (y/n)! Come over here, sit with me!” Steve waved you over to his table and you sat across from him. “Hey Steve! How’s it going?” 

“It’s a regular day for me, man. School, then basketball practice after.” He takes a bite out of the hamburger. “Enough about me, what’s going on with you new kid?” He laughs.

“You’re gross! Don’t talk with your mouth full.” You pause to grab your lunch out of your bag and set it out on the table. Emptying the contents out, you continue your conversation with Steve. “My day is fine, I mean I have a shitload of work to do but that’s okay. It’s all easy. I already know about Othello, I read it my junior year of high school.” You take a bite out of your sandwich, chew and swallow. “Ha. Nerd.” Steve laughs, drinking out of his milk carton. 

“Steve I have something to tell you.” He stops mid-chew and raises his eyebrow. 

“I’m listening?” 

You look around the cafeteria, and lean in closer to Steve. In a hushed voice you say, “What is with that Billy kid? He’s been on my back all day, Steve. I don’t like it. I just got here.”

Steve nods his head, understanding. “Billy Hargrove. He was a new kid too, he’s from California. He isn’t anything but trouble. He’s a player, too. He’s no good, and you should stay away from him. Like, seriously. That guy? He’s bad news!”

You motioned for Steve to stop talking, but he doesn’t take the hint. “I mean, like this guy beat me up. Like beat the shit out of me and-”

“And I’ll do it again, Harrington.” You sigh heavily, finishing your lunch and giving the chips to Steve. Billy made you lose your appetite.

“Is that why you were telling me to stop?” You nodded. Steve gets up, and stands in front of Billy. Some of the students started to look on.

“Look, Harrington, I don’t know what your problem is.” Billy says coolly. “But badmouthing me to the new kid? That’s real low.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah dude whatever. I don’t want her to get caught up in all.. this.” He points, moving his finger up and down. 

Billy steps closer, trying to shake Steve. Steve doesn’t move. 

“What are you gonna do, huh Billy? Beat my ass?” 

Before Billy gets a chance to react, you slide out of the cafeteria bench and walk up behind Billy, squeezing the pressure point right in between the crook of his neck and shoulder, causing him to buckle.

“You listen to me, Hargrove.” Your voice ran cold. “Leave Steve alone. So far, all you’ve done is mooch off of me and prove Steve’s point. Don’t mess with him again. Or else.”

“Or else what? You gonna tell on me to the princi- ah fuck!” You tightened your grip on him. The students turned around to see the new girl have big bad Billy Hargrove yelping in pain. Steve was just watching, wide-eyed. 

“Steve’s my friend. Don’t go looking for trouble when there ain’t none, kid.” You let him go roughly. “Get out of my sight, Hargrove.”

He rubs his neck, casting a glare at Steve and a look at you. You tried to decipher what emotion was behind his eyes. Anger? Hurt? Fear? You couldn’t tell. He walked away and sat back at his table, the cafeteria still looking at you and Steve. 

“Can I help any of you?” You barked. They quickly averted their eyes and went about minding their business.

You and Steve sat back down. “You know (y/n), you didn’t have to do that.” Steve says to you, looking down at his folded thumbs. 

“Yes I did. I don’t let my friends get pushed around by some punk and let them get away with it. Not while I’m around.” You finished the rest of your apple juice, letting out a raunchy burp. Steve’s nose crinkled in disgust. “Dude! That was so gross!” Steve laughed. “It felt nice though! Excuse me.” You laughed. 

The rest of your classes passed, and you were essentially playing catch up in every class except math, where they were starting a new unit. You had study hall last period, so you decided to start your english work. Whatever you didn't finish, you’d just do it at home. Your chemistry teacher gave you a packet of catch up work to get familiar with what was going on, despite your class getting cut short because of the fire drill. You expressed gratitude to your chem teacher and she smiled, offering her classroom as open doors should you need any help.

Once the bell rang, you packed up and left the building. You walked out of the front doors and looked at your car. She was shining bright and blue. You strolled to your car, enjoying the nice weather while it was still around. There were kids ogling your car, mumbling amongst themselves. Saying excuse me politely wasn’t working. You cleared your throat and announced, “Excuse me! I’d like to get to my vehicle, please!” That causes the crowd to disperse, and you were glad it did. You opened up the back seat and threw your bag in there. You shut the door, and before you could even hop into the drivers seat, you hear the same, gruff voice that asked you for a cigarette earlier. 

“Hey, (y/l/n). I wanna talk to you.”

----

A/N: This part is super wordy and long, but it was a lot of fun to write. I write with a lot of detail because I write the way I think! I hope you enjoyed this part, part three will be out soon :)

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #blerbdrops original content

[agentwallflower]

Supernova: Chapter 9

Well, I’m here.

I’m tired, depressed, but I made it. 

Next chapter is going up on August 22nd. I’ll see you all then. Enjoy the read.

You know how Andy had been complaining about being in the lab? She took it all back, this was worse.

The alien sighed as she laid on the floor of her bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. At the moment, her necklace was hanging from the arm of her stuffed bear knight. When she was alone, with the shade pulled over the small window, she didn't need it. Going downstairs was a definite, but it wasn't like she was going to be doing that anytime soon.

Grounded was grounded, after all. Though, was it really being grounded if she was stuck on the top floor?

“Why is  the silent treatment even worse than getting yelled at?” Andy sighed as she rolled over to her front. It didn't feel as weird – on her back, it felt like her spine was getting in the way. “Pretty bad if I want to get yelled at, huh?”

Nobody answered her. After all, her older sister was off studying, and their youngest sibling was probably sleeping off practice. She couldn't risk going downstairs, however – her mother was home for once.

“Bored...”

She would have laid there, staring at the floor, but then it vibrated. Well, most people would have called it a pounding. That would be Amanda's fist, sounding as though it was trying to go through the ceiling. The silent treatment was now over.

“Andromeda Nobel, you get down to the kitchen now.”

There was steel in her voice that would have made Andy wince if she was capable of the action. Instead, she reached for her necklace and threw it on over her head. Human disguise in place, she flipped open the trap door to climb down the ladder. Amanda was already down the stairs and out of view. Good.

“Andy?”

A soft, quiet voice drew her attention. One of the bedroom doors was open, and a pair of wide eyes was staring at her. Jen, her youngest sister, was only 13. She came up barely halfway on her alien sibling, but she was a strong one. She had to be, being such a good dancer. Julliard was going to love her one day.

Andy felt her core bubble as she stopped. “Hey, Jen. You better head back inside, don't want mom laying into you.”

“But you just got back from the hospital, why would she be mad now?” The girl yawned and rubbed her eyes. “You were sick.”

Sick; that was their cover story. As far as her favorite little ballerina knew, Andy was a sickly young woman who required frequent overnight trips to the hospital. They explained her rooming with a weak immune system that couldn't be around people. That got her out of performances, though she would have loved those. A phone just wasn't the same.

Andy reached out to ruffle her mussed hair. “I overdid it this time and she had to pick me up from work.”

“Oh. No wonder she's - “

A voice called up from the kitchen. “Andromeda, NOW.”

Jen winced as Andy felt her core dim. “Sorry... she's going to yell even more now.”

The alien wished she could have smiled as she patted her youngest sibling on the head. “Don't worry about it. You know she loves to yell at me. Get some rest, you've got a big solo coming up.”

She nudged her sister back into her room and closed the door behind her. Alone, Andy was left to travel down the stairs to her doom. Along the way, she passed the pictures of her sisters as they aged – school entry, graduation, big events. There were none of her there, as there weren't supposed to be. That would have broken at least 20 rules.

Besides, even if she had she doubted they'd be up there. The spot where her father used to be was still gathering dust after all.

The kitchen felt icy even in the middle of summer. Amanda was sitting at the table, drinking coffee. It was probably her third cup of the morning. There was a crystal waiting for Andy on the table, but it was a yellow one.

She hated the yellow ones.

“Eat your breakfast so we can talk.”

Andy didn't sit at the table; she took her crystal and moved over to the trash can instead as her sharp teeth did the work. Her mother would complain if she got shards all over the place, even if she cleaned it up afterwards. Still, she was a little slower than usual. Something about yellow crystals just didn't taste right to her. Whatever it was, it was going into her core where it belonged as she sat down across from her mother.

Amanda had documents spread out. One was obviously the custody agreement between herself and the US government spelling out the agreement they had been running with for the last 15 years. Andy knew the terms by heart – she had read it enough times. It was the original too, based on the fact it mentioned her father. He had been written out of the arrangement after the divorce 10 years ago when she had last seen him. Now he was somewhere in NY, and her sister visited him every other summer.

She didn't get that choice.

“I don't think I can over stress how badly you messed up.” Amanda took another sip of coffee. “Not only did you ignore a command from your temporary guardian, you killed at least one person. You're lucky you're not human, or I'd be handing you over to the police for murder charges.”

Normally, Andy could bite her tongue. It was the smart thing to do when it came to her mother. Fighting back only caused a bigger headache. This time was different, though. Maybe it was the awareness of just what bubbled under her rocky skin, or the sight of her aunt there. But she shook her head.

“I did it to save Aunt Miri, I'm not sorry.”

It took a lot to make her mother go quiet. As a defense lawyer for unpopular clients, she had to fight for their rights to a fair trial and a jury of their peers. Arguing was something she was good at. This, however? She put her mug down and just stared.

“Excuse me?”

Andy felt her voice raise in tone, though not by inflection. “If I hadn't stepped in, Aunt Miri would've died. A lot of people could've died if that... whatever it was got out. I did what I had to do to keep us safe.”

Her response earned her a laugh from Amanda. “To keep you safe? Andromeda, you don't even know how to use your powers. You could've blown the whole ci-”

Andy rose to her full height. “And that's why I need somebody to train me!”

She hadn't meant to shout. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she actually had – maybe it had just sounded that way with how quiet the kitchen was. The fact the kitchen table was still standing as she pressed down on it was a miracle in itself.

Amanda took a long time to answer. “Train you?”

That was a leading question, but Andy took it anyway. “Mom, I'm not a little kid anymore. I need someone to show me how to use my powers safely. Even if I don't...”

She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I need to learn how to exist without hurting somebody.  It's not safe to just lock me away like this.”

After all, that's what their argument was probably leading to; it didn't take a genius to figure it out. The only reason her mother would have those kinds of papers out was to have them ready for a final hand off. A good lawyer always had those sorts of things ready. They didn't even look dusty.

How many times had she pulled them out over the years?

Andy fell quiet after that, sinking back down to the table. The clock above them both ticked on, reminding her that time was indeed passing. She couldn't look at her mother then; she didn't want to see what lay in her eyes.

“So... I'm guessing I came in at the perfect time.”

An accented voice drew their attention. With the argument, neither had heard the knock or subsequent opening of the door. Miri had a key after all – had been given one when Jen was 6. It was hanging from her hand on a gaudy key chain one of the girls had made her in school.

Without another word, she entered and sat next to Andy. “About that training thing... we got somebody in house to help her.”

She turned to her niece. “How would you feel about working with Sky Rider?”

---

“Where the hell have you been, Angel?”

The answer was in the question.

Angel's entire body ached as he stepped into the living room. Three days of interrogation could really take it out of a guy, even if he wasn't compressing his ribs. The fact he was made things hurt even more as he tried to keep upright. Every nerve was saying sleep, but... had to deal with the roommates first.

Lucky him; he got the double barrel.

His first roommate, a guy named Mike who majored in chemistry, was on the couch. Their other, a politics major who went by Kai, poked their head out of the fridge. Both of them looked as though they had seen a ghost. He couldn't really blame them for that, but... damn.

“Hey, guys.” His voice fluctuated and cracked from the exhaustion. “Sorry, some shit came up and I had to stay late again.”

Mike winced at the sight of him and shook his head. “They don't work us nearly as hard in the chem department. Here I thought psychology was a soft science.”

“It's only hard when you're trying to graduate early like Angel.” Kai shut the fridge door. They had a large glass of what Angel suspected to be cold brew; must have a paper to write. “But three days? Are you trying to cram a PhD in there?”

Well, that was on the table...

Angel allowed himself to chuckle weakly as he held up his hand in the universal symbol of 'my bad' that he had perfected over the years. “Lost track of time while I was working. Didn't notice my phone died either. I'll make sure to charge it again before I turn into a gremlin.”

“You better, we almost called the cops on you.”

They would've had to fight the FBI for him; honestly, he would've enjoyed watching that if not for the persistent dull ache all over his body that came from sleep deprivation. His battered brain was calling for bed, and he was more than willing to answer.

“Seeing them go down with campus security would almost be worth the headache.” He yawned, feeling his brain go fuzzy. Any longer, and shit would start floating. I'm going to crash, wake me up if downtown blows up or something.”

Both of his roommates echoed their responses as he dragged his aching feet to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Soon, most of his clothes were on the floor. In just his binder and boxers, he set to removing the former.

The next thing Angel knew, he was staring out the arm hole of his binder with a blank expression. Time must have passed since he had zoned out, because his phone was ringing. Reaching for it was going to be kind of hard, given both his arms were occupied.

Oh yeah... he was psychic.

It wasn't the smartest choice to float his cellphone over, but Scanner had it backed up just in case. Getting it to click on took effort, but soon he heard the familiar crackle of static that made his heart sink.

“Scanner, you have got to be f-”

“Good to hear from you too, Angel.” Paladin's voice on the other end of the line killed the expletive. “Did we catch you at a bad moment?”

Nah, he only had his binder stuck over his head. No big deal.

Angel needed his arms. It went back on with some difficulty as he held the phone to his ear. “No, what's up? Normally you don't use the work number.”

“It's work related.”

Damn it, he was using his voice of authority. Paladin might have retired, but he could still throw his mental weight around when he wanted to do it. Cancer hadn't taken that away from him just yet – probably a good sign. For such a sick old man, he could really work it. That made Angel glad, but at the same  time he really wanted some damn sleep.

The psychic sighed and brushed some loose hair behind his ear as he sat down on the bed. “Arrest related or PT's niece?”

“The latter.” Ouch. Angel did not want to think about that blue nightmare right then – he was going to be seeing her in his dreams soon enough. “Andy is a lovely young lady, but her powers are raw. As you saw, she could hurt someone if she doesn't learn control.”

Yeah... that was a fair assessment. Honestly, he would've considered her powers terrifying at the very least. Nobody was asking him about space aliens and their levels, though. Why this involved him, he had no clue.

“Right, so... why call me?”

He could practically imagine the old man smiling in the way he had before he'd needed to do something unpleasant. “Well... I'm getting up there in years. With how often I'm in the hospital, I can't help her.”

Realization dawned slowly on the psychic. “Wait... you can't be...”

Panic flashed through Angel's brain as he jolted up. “No way I can do it, I'm barely a full member myself!”

He had only been an official member of the union for a little over a year, with three years of formal training and two of informal before that. As much as he liked Bear Paw, he wasn't planning to stay there much longer than graduate school.

Besides... she was a goddamn alien!

“I know... normally we would ask a more senior member.” Paladin's voice dropped. “But I think we both know why that wouldn't work.”

Angel's stomach was only staying inside him because his binder was so damn tight. He sat back down on the bed, numb. Somewhere, there was an ice cream truck hawking products to kids. The jingle was the same one from Cryojolt's truck... somehow they were still in business. Go figure.

Shit...

“I had some success working with Nova when they were around. It's likely that Andy shares the same skill set.”

Nova... the name rang dully in Angel's brain. He could remember older films, seeing them with PT. Their picture hung in the entrance way with all the other heroes who had been injured or killed in the line of fire.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “Nova-”

“Yes, they were.” Paladin was surprisingly calm. “I wouldn't ask unless I was sure you could handle it, Angel.”

There was confidence in his voice; the cancer hadn't killed that yet either. Before, that would've given Angel the strength to face anything. Now... well, he wasn't sure. There were just so many variables that his head was spinning.

But what choice did he had? If nobody else could train her, what else could they do?

So he sighed, shoulders sagging. “If I'm bad -”

“You won't be.”

Thank you, vote of confidence. “How often and where?”

There went working on some of his smaller projects. Angel was already rearranging his work schedule as he sat there. It was one of the high points of having a brain that worked a little weirder than anyone else, he supposed. Right then it was the only upside as he saw missing hours of sleep and a lot more caffeine in his future.

They better be paying him for this...

“Ember will call you to discuss the schedule shift, but probably not more than once a week to start. Andy isn't used to interacting with new people, so she needs to go slowly.” Paladin sounded happy, but tired. “You're a good man, Angel. This is going to do her a world of good.”

Yeah, that's what they told him. Right then he was just a tired one.

“Ok, cool... just ask her to call tomorrow. I need to sleep, and it sounds like you do too.”

His mentor chuckled on the other end of the line. “Don't tell me what to do, young man. I can still float you across a room.”

“Yeah, try doing it from halfway across the city.” Angel found himself chuckling despite himself. “Get some rest. I'll come by to visit later if I wake up before the weekend.”

The line went dead not long after. That left the psychic once again with the challenge of getting off his binder and getting to bed. At least that was something he could deal with as he started to tug the garment down towards his hips instead of over his head. Maybe one day it would work...

But that was for another day. He needed sleep if he was going to train an alien.

--- 

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#Supernova Collision Trilogy #writing #novel