Until Pretty Recently, I Had Never Read Fic For A Fandom I Had Never Dipped Into. It Got Me Thinking

I was hiding at a party by drawing outside so

Froggy Nelson & Catt Murdock

i wanna write for richie but i want to test out the waters and actually make sure people like what i write for him because i do have a work in progress for him at the moment...

besides the occasional game of uno, you did not play cards much. every single time someone tried to explain a card game to you, your mind went blank and you found it hard to follow along. and if there was another thing that was to be known about you, you could be a people pleaser at times. in part, it's the reason you're out in the back of the restaurant sitting on a milk crate. richie's right across from you, shuffling the deck of cards that he sneaks into his suit pocket for occasions like this.

this has become a ritual between the two of you. every thursday after closing, he calls over to you and mouths a "you down?". your response is always a big smile, which you didn't even think you could muster because of how late it always is. he grabs three milk crates. two serving as a seats for you and him, and one as your playing table. to thank him for always setting a seat for you, you bring two glasses of water out to the back.

it started on a particular thursday morning. richie strolls into the kitchen looking as giddy as you've ever seen him. he's waving around a box of bicycle brand playing cards and bragging about how eva won them in some sort of gift basket from school and she didn't want them.

"kid doesn't know what she's missing out on," he looks to ebra, who just clocked in for the day. "sometimes all i needed was a deck of cards. a good game of solitaire, rummy, even poker. won my first pack of smokes at fifteen from a game of spit."

"spit?" you looked back to the two men. you didn't even realize you spoke what you were thinking out loud. you catch richie's attention, and he lightly scoffs.

"you've never heard of spit?" it almost sounds like an insult coming from him.

"never even played. i'm not good with card games," you explained, smoothing out the small little wrinkles in your dress shirt. you had tried getting them out of your waitressing uniform the night before, but had no such luck.

"you know what? what about a quick game before we open? i promise i know this game like the back of my hand, i'll tech you in no time," he sounds so sure, like he could shuffle and deal the right amount of cards in his sleep. as you're about to respond, carmy busts out from the walk-in, yelling about how there's only twenty minutes to open and everyone should start prepping their stations. he motioned to you and richie,

"you two, get out front. and no card games!" he shouted, and you both mutter out a "yes chef".

"come find me after closing, i'm gonna school your ass," he whispered as he held the door open for you.

and that's how you're here, week after week without fail. you feel a bit bad because you haven't necessarily gotten the hang of the game yet, and you don't want richie thinking you're not enjoying yourself. just being in his presence, having him acknowledge you and take the time to really teach you how to play, it warms your heart. it makes you feel a way that you want to say is strictly platonic. you feel there might be something there for you two, but you just chalk that up to you being delusional.

you're so close to the end of your game. this is probably your fifth or sixth round, you seriously lose count every single time you two play. richie has three cards left and you only have two. you don't have high hopes because there's been times you've been left with one card and richie won regardless. you've only won two games, and you didn't really win them. richie just made you win, and that made you feel a certain way too.

you stare at his cards. he has one queen of hearts, a two of hearts, and an eight of diamonds. you have an ace of spades and a two of clubs. you could win, if the next card drawn made you lucky enough. richie looks to you, eyebrow raising and hovering his hand over the deck placed to his right.

"come on, hit me, richie!" you both laugh as he turns over the next card, revealing an ace of hearts. richie lets out an "ooh" as he placed down his two of hearts. that's all he can do, and you realize this is truly the game where you finally get your first real win. you start to laugh to yourself as you place down your final cards and leave richie stunned.

"holy shit," he blurted out, double-checking the cards you placed down to make sure there wasn't some kind of mistake. you hated the way it made you giggle, it made you feel like a little girl.

"you didn't make me win this time, did you?" you accuse him, making him hold his hands up in defense.

"i had nothing to do with this, sweetheart. did this shit all on your own," he chuckled and collected the cards and gave them one more shuffle. you never let him know, but you love it when he calls you that. you wish he would only call you that, but you know it's a term of endearment he uses on everyone. sugar, sydney, and even carmy (that only happens when they're yelling at each other in the back). you wonder if one day he could call you something else, a nickname he had just for you.

"now that you've gotten your actual first win, maybe we can try another game. i'm thinking blackjack next, but the cards are in your favor," he cringes at his own joke but you do find some humor in it.

"what about poker? it's a card game everyone knows about, i just don't know how to play it," you look at him and he nods.

"we can do that. i don't play it much anymore. i think last time i played was when me and mikey tried impressing this girl. she turned it into a game of strip poker, though," he explained, packing the cards back into their box.

"well, i wouldn't mind doing that," you don't know what came over you, really. your eyes widened by your own comment, you hope he thought you were just referring to poker itself, not strip poker.

"then we better move it somewhere inside, then. your place or mine?" he winks at you and you know you have him right where you want him.

a/n: please i hope this reaches the right people & my richie girls are able to enjoy this :) if anyone is interested in the richie fic i have completed like 25% of, let me know!

The urge to make out with a pussy is strong today 🫠 I just wanna kiss and bite down someone’s thighs. Feel someone run their fingers through my hair as I greet their lips with a kiss. Hearing them get louder as I use my fingers to spread what’s mine. Inching my face even closer and stretching my tongue out, reaching as far as it can go. Feeling their grip tighten on the back of my head, them grinding into my tongue letting out just the sweetest moans. More and more till they can’t hold back any longer and finish all over my tongue.

ill be sappy whenever i want. i dont give a shit. i love you. fuck off

eat her pussy like you’ve been lost in the desert without food and water for weeks and it’s your only source of fluid

• Jai Courtney →  Workout

when men wear jewellery. okay anything for u daddy

Sugary Ice & Ferris Wheels—Alexei x fem!reader insert

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**spoilers for stranger things season 3**

summary; an alternate universe where alexei lives and he can't but visit the fair to see his favorite person working at his favorite booth.

warnings; an au fic that isn't plot heavy, just pure fluff and alexei. he may be a tad bit ooc (?) but I enjoyed writing this.

»»————-————-««

"I could use some help over here."

The pads of your fingers were growing numb by the second, thanks to the occasional drippage from the plastic cup you filled to the brim with sugary ice. Your coworker huffed in response, mumbled something about "five more minutes", and then disappeared into the back to finish his cigarette.

Rolling your eyes you turned back to face the sea of mundane faces that belonged to irritated adults who gripped on tightly to the hands of their impatient, snotty-nosed children. But behind a tall man you noticed a familiar face.

The two of you made eye contact briefly before you turned back to the task at hand. For the next ten minutes you worked diligently until you got to the end of the line.

"Another one?" You said, already searching for a large plastic cup to fill with cherry flavored ice. It was the third time this evening he had visited your booth—the third Saturday in a row you had served him a a large cherry slurpee at the county fair.

You smiled as he nodded shyly, his tinted red lips forming into a mischievous grin. He fumbled around in his pocket for a crumbled dollar bill and a few quarters as you set the cup under the machine. Slowly, the ice trickled down in the cup, the machine nearing its end for the evening.

"You're going to run me out of ice if you keep coming here like this," You said, jokingly to which he only grinned and shrugged. You leaned forward against the counter and counted the loose change he set in front of you. "But you know what?" You gathered the assortment of quarters and dollar bills and gently slid them back. "This one's on the house, okay?"

A wave of confusion passed over his features. Being a man of little words, he lifted an eyebrow, shook his head, and reached out to slide the money back towards you. His fingers brushed against yours, a zap of electricity making you forget where you were for a moment. He pursed his lips into a hopeful smile.

"Seriously, Alexei, don't worry about it." With gentle persistence, you slid the change forward before turning around to prepare the icy treat. You snapped the top cover securely on the large cup once it was full before slowly turning around to set it on the counter. "As long as my boss doesn't find out—"

You were met with a nervous smile stained in red. A stack of crumbled carnival tickets stuck out from his breast pocket. He was shifting back and forth on his feet, his mouth parting slightly as he mumbled something in Russian. Something you could only interrupt as a question.

You knew very little about him but he had piqued your interest the first time he finished a large cherry slurpee in three minutes flat before ordering another (all while enduring a debilitating brain freeze with ease, of course). There was a mutual understanding that language would be the barrier between you two, but that didn't dampen the excitement you felt every time he came to his favorite person at his favorite booth. What he lacked in verbal communication, he made up for in miniscule but sweet, unexpected gestures.

Hence, the crinkled piece of paper that laid flat on top of a mountain of loose change. It read:

Ferris Wheel?

"Please?" He said, gesturing behind him to the massive circle that spun slowly as it changed from colors ranging from red, white, and blue.

His question alone was enough for you to say yes.

It took you a minute to shut the booth down. You donned the front with a sign that read, 'Be back in ten minutes' before you walked around out front, standing in front of him.

Alexei, seemingly unsure of what to do with his hand—the other being occupied by his favorite drink—looked at the ground nervously. With the two of you being too shy to make the first move, you stuck with walking next to each other in the direction of the Ferris Wheel.

Seated next to each other, your knees brushed against one another as the ride took a slow flight. You pointed out your house when you made it to the top, his hand resting gently on your knee while he sipped on his drink.

By the end of the night both of yours hands with fully with carnival tickets, stuffed animals, and of course, slurpees.

"Again?" He said, his hand latching onto yours while a stuffed bear was pinched underneath his arm.

"Alexei..." You glanced at your wristwatch. Those ten minutes had turned into three hours. The fair was starting to shut down and you were most likely going to have to stand in the unemployment line after tonight. "Maybe next weekend?"

He lifted a brow in confusion.

You chuckled and flipped his hand over so his palm was facing up. Gently you tapped the pads of fingers as you counted out loud to the number seven. You extended your thumb and index finger to represent the last two days.

"Seven days from now. Seven days," you said, slowly.

When he finally understood, he frowned in disappointment and you couldn't help but laugh. "Seven days from now, we can do this again. We can meet here." You pointed to the ground, indicating the dead patch of grass you were currently standing on. You were most likely fired, so there was no point in showing your face at the booth next week.

Before you could explain it even further, Alexei took your hand, turned it over, and pressed his lips to the back of it.

"Seven days," he said before giving your hand one last squeeze and turning to leave.

Flustered and flattered, you watched as he jogged to the exit, leaving you struggling to juggle the stuffed animal prizes he had won for you.