New Bedhead

New bedhead

Summary: Reader is nervos what Eddie thinks about her new haircut.

(Eddie x pixiecut!reader)

Warnings: slight anxiety

Word count: 511

Athours note: I was bullied a lot, when I was in school for having short hair, so I’m probably just trying to heal something with those stories. If your interested in a similar story, check my Steve Rogers fanfic ‘Can I touch your hair?:

https://www.tumblr.com/drmaddict/713015782573998080/can-i-touch-your-hair?source=share

I was nervous. Insanely nervous. I shouldn't be so nervous. After all, this was Eddie. I took a deep breath and forced my feet further toward the trailer.

Why I was so nervous? Well simple. I had been wearing a pixie cut on my head for about 30 minutes. An insanely short pixie cut. The idea came into my head months ago when I saw a photo of Linda Evangelista in a magazine. It looked great. She looked great and, yes, it was practical. Less time to dry them. Besides that, I only ever wore them tied up anyway, so in the end it wasn't like I did much with my long hair.

In a big city, probably no one would have looked twice at me, but in Hawkins? Hawkins was just still more conservative after all. God what had I done? What's going to happen in school? Everyone's just going to bitch about it again. Damn it, I wasn't a model.

Completely lost in thought, I didn't even notice how I was suddenly standing in front of Eddie's trailer. Damn it. I took a deep breath. Eddie is Eddie. Eddie likes anything that's different. Eddie must think it's great. Eddie had great hair. Damn.

I carefully pushed open the door and peeked around the corner. Eddie appeared to be in his room.

"Eddie?", I called out cautiously.

"Back here!" he replied. No question, he was either working on the next campaign or a new song.

I walked tentatively to his room. "I may have done something stupid.", I babbled before stepping into the room. "Please be nice, okay?", I asked hesitantly.

"Why? Do you have a face tatoo now or- WOAH!" he interrupted his sentence as I stepped around the corner.

He literally jumped up from his chair and came over to me. "Your hair is gone!" he exclaimed excitedly and immediately put his hands on the short stubble. I noticed tears trying to gather in my eyes. "That's so cool!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands over my head with childlike glee.

He tore his gaze away from my hair and looked at me. "Why didn't you say something? That's so metal! ... Are you all right? You look like you're sick. Oh do you have your period, do you want me to make the funny tea? I can get the hot water bottle too."

This made me giggle. I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his torso. "I'm fine. I was just nervous." I breathed in his scent. "I was afraid you might not like it after all."

"Don‘t like it? You look hot! Babe that's awesome." He rested his cheek on my head and chuckled. "That tickles."

He broke away from me slightly and pressed a powerful kiss to my lips. "And now I want to know what your new bedhead looks like," he grinned, practically tossing me onto the bed and himself right behind. "This hairdo is going to be broke in now.", he grinned wiggling his eyebrows and pulling his shirt over his head.

Better Half

Summary: Napoleon's better half is not what anyone would have expected and yet it is exactly what one should expect.

Warnings: none

Word count: 448

"I know someone," Napoleon said, taking a sip of his drink.

Illya looked at him emotionlessly. "Those are top-secret KGB files. Not even I had access to them."

"Jealous that I might know more?" he grinned at him and winked teasingly.

"It's impossible."

"That word doesn't exist in their vocabulary."

"And who is this mysterious gentleman supposed to be?" asked Waverly. "A friend from...the art trade?"

Napoleon shook his head. "SHE deals in other merchandise...information. There's nothing she can't get her hands on." He smiled into his glass. "If there's one thing I've learned from her, it's that a room is never truly empty."

Illya rolled his eyes. "We don't have time to waste on an untrustworthy affair."

Napoleon looked at him piercingly. "I wouldn't suggest her if I didn't trust her."

Waverly tapped a pencil thoughtfully on the tabletop in front of him. "And what makes you so sure?"

"If she wasn't trustworthy, I wouldn't have married her.", he replied simply. "Albeit under a different name." he shrugged and downed the rest of his drink as the rest of the gathering stared at him in bewilderment.

________________________________________________________________

They were sitting in a ramshackle motel. Only Napoleon remained standing, meticulously keeping away from all the furniture. Dust layed thick on the small dresser next to the bed, whose springs had also seen better days and squeaked happily when Gabby changed her position.

The door opened silently, although that shouldn't be possible with the rusted hinges. A small figure entered the room. She wore a worn flat cap, a too-long brown coat, and baggy pants topped off with a pair of scuffed brown leather shoes.

At first glance, anyone would have seen a fourteen-year-old paperboy. It was only when the figure removed their cap that the too-long hair became apparent. Napoleon moved toward her with elegant steps and took off her coat.

"Still quite the gentleman." she grinned at him.

"When am I not?" he asked teasingly.

"Oh I can think of a few situations.", she returned just as teasingly before reaching into her waistband and pulling out a piece of paper. "You know the drill. I was never here and this piece of paper never existed." She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll see you where there are no stars."

"On the fifth of May?" he asked.

"Sounds good." She tugged playfully at his tie, destroying the symmetry of the elaborate knot, before disappearing from the small room as quickly as she had come.

"Cute." said Gabby as Napoleon held out the small note to her.

"What's her name?" asked Illya.

Napoleon grinned with a soft expression around his eyes. "That ist something noone really knows.“

Remus: I was wondering if you wanted to go with me as a guest... friend... thing.

Y/N: You mean like your date?

Remus: ...I guess that's also a term that could be used.

Sirius: I want to wake up with you everyday for the rest of our lives.

Remus: I wake up at 4:30 AM.

Sirius:

Sirius: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives.

How exactly do you explain to your family that you only had a meltdown because music you hate was played too loud at the family New Year's Eve party and everything was too much and you actually didn't want to react that way, but you're just mentally unstable? How exactly would one do something like that, if the actual reason is not comprehensible for most people?

Asking for a friend?