hello, my name's vivianne, i'm 18 years old and a scorpio. i'm pansexual & genderfluid. i go by any pronouns aswell. i'm a huge cinephile and music lover. i love books and collecting physical media too! that's just some about me, anything else you'd like to know feel free to ask for i don't bite (unless you ask)
records !
the rise and fall of ziggy stardust and the spiders from mars by david bowie - marauders
blurryface by twenty-one pilots - the 100
the queen is dead by the smiths - harry potter
songs from the big chair by tears for fears - stranger things
in rainbows by radiohead - criminal minds
celebrity skin by hole - yellowjackets
(what's the story) morning glory? by oasis - misc.
and....
wiped out! by the neighbourhood (viv's fav)
!readers
rockstar!reader
muggle!reader
bunny!reader
artist!reader
recs !
here are some works by other talented shop owners on this app that i'd recommend checking out!
synopsis - Fourth of July with your best friend, and fireworks aren't the only sparks that night.
smut fluff angst | side note - excuse how late this is, i originally wrote it as marlene but hated it so here's robin instead !!
By the time you coasted into the fairgrounds on your bike, the sun was already high enough to make the asphalt shimmer. The whole town looked as though someone had raided every party store in Indiana and decided enough red, white, and blue simply didn’t exist. Paper streamers twisted lazily in the warm breeze between telephone poles, little American flags poked out of flower beds lining Main Street, and somewhere beyond the ticket booths a brass band stumbled its way through a patriotic march that sounded just out of tune enough to be charming.
The fair had only been open an hour, but it already smelled like summer had reached its peak—charcoal from neighborhood cookouts, suntan lotion, fresh-cut grass, kettle corn, and the unmistakable sweetness of fried dough that seemed to drift across the entire midway
Steve’s BMW was parked crooked beneath the only tree in the lot, looking like it had survived one too many road trips. He sat on the hood absentmindedly peeling the label off a bottle of soda while Robin leaned beside him, arms folded against her chest, sunglasses threatening to slide off her nose every few seconds.
“…I’m telling you,” Robin was saying as you wheeled closer, “there was definitely a goat here last year.”
Steve didn’t even look up. “It wasn’t at the fair.”
“It was literally five feet away.”
“It escaped from somebody’s farm.”
“It still counts.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Robin opened her mouth to argue again before finally noticing you approaching. Whatever comeback she’d been preparing disappeared entirely. She straightened a little too quickly, nearly dropping her sunglasses, then caught them against her face with an awkward swipe that she probably hoped you’d missed. You hadn’t. You smiled anyway.
“Sorry,” you said, hopping off your bike. “My mom decided today was the perfect day to remind me sunscreen exists.”
Steve shrugged. “You’re on time.”
Robin glanced dramatically at the watch she wasn’t wearing before looking back at you with a completely straight face.
“Technically,” she said, “you’re four minutes late.”
You frowned for half a second before catching the corner of her mouth twitch upward.
“How do you know that? You don't have a watch.”
“I know.”
“So you made that up.”
“I did.”
There was the smallest pause before she rubbed the back of her neck and looked somewhere over your shoulder instead of directly at you. “I don’t know why I said that.”
Steve let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously practiced, like he’d watched this exact interaction happen enough times to know how it ended. “She’s been waiting for you for twenty minutes.”
Robin’s head snapped toward him. “I have not.”
“You’ve checked the parking lot every thirty seconds.” He called her out on her bullshit instantly, giving her a smirk that said he knew what she was really doing.
“I’ve been… observing traffic.”
“In Hawkins?”
“There are dozens of cars, Steve.” Robin huffed and crossed her arms like it was an obvious fact she was stating.
“There are six.”
She looked around the parking lot as if hoping several more vehicles might materialize to support her argument.
“…It’s a busy six.”
You couldn’t help laughing.
Robin glanced back at you, and for just a second she looked oddly pleased with herself, as if getting that laugh had somehow made the last thirty seconds worth the embarrassment.
The rest of the group trickled in not long after.
Lucas arrived carrying a backpack that looked heavy enough for a weekend camping trip instead of an afternoon at the fair. Dustin was already unfolding a crinkled map he’d picked up at the entrance, insisting there was an optimal route if everyone wanted to avoid the longest ride lines. Max wandered behind him with an ice pop she’d somehow acquired before she’d even met everyone else, while Erica announced she wasn’t wasting half her summer standing in lines just because the rest of them had poor planning skills.
Within minutes, the conversation dissolved into exactly what you expected from a day out with your friends—everyone talking over each other, Steve trying and failing to keep the group together, Dustin insisting they should start with the roller coaster because “the physics are better before lunch,” and Robin offering commentary on absolutely everything that caught her eye.
She had a habit of narrating the world around her as though silence physically pained her. “The guy running the ring toss definitely peaked in high school.”
You followed her gaze toward a teenager lazily leaning against a booth. “Robin…”
“What?”
“He’s, like, seventeen.”
“…Then he’s peaking currently.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s how peaking works, baby.”
“No? Well, explain it to me.” She replied, pretending that the nickname didn't have such an effect on her.
“I can’t.”
“Exactly.” She pointed at you triumphantly before immediately veering off toward a stand selling lemonade.
“And another thing,” she continued, somehow turning the conversation toward whether lemons were technically impressive fruit, “who looked at one of those things for the first time and thought, ‘I bet this tastes amazing?’ Because that’s optimism.”
You found yourself smiling more than talking, mostly content to listen as Robin bounced from one thought to another. There was something oddly comforting about it. Most people talked because they wanted to fill the silence. Robin talked because her brain seemed physically incapable of staying on one subject for more than thirty seconds, and somehow every tangent made perfect sense if you followed her long enough.
She’d start with lemonade, somehow end up discussing sharks, and finish by explaining why she thought movie theater carpeting was secretly disgusting. It was impossible to predict where she’d end up. Maybe that was part of why you liked being around her so much.
The fair itself only amplified everything. Music drifted between the rides in uneven bursts whenever the wind shifted. Children sprinted through the midway clutching balloons nearly as tall as they were, couples wandered arm in arm beneath strings of lights that wouldn’t really matter until sunset, and every few minutes someone would walk past carrying a stuffed animal so absurdly oversized that it practically blocked the walkway.
Robin watched one guy stagger by with a giant stuffed gorilla balanced on his shoulder. “…See,” she said, nudging your arm lightly, “that’s a terrible prize.”
“It looks pretty impressive."
She smiled to herself before adding, almost as an afterthought, “Still ugly, though.”
You bumped her shoulder with yours. “I think you’re just jealous.” You teased, hand grazing hers as you kept walking side by side throughout the fair
“I’m not jealous.” She said with an offended scoff.
“You absolutely are.”
“I could win one if I wanted.”
“You’ve never won a carnival game.”
She gasped dramatically. “You don’t know that.”
“I’ve known you for three years.” You gave her a raise of your brow, a look on your face that she knew all too well.
“…You make a compelling argument.” The smile tugging at the corner of her mouth lingered a little longer than either of you seemed to notice.
—
There was something about a fair that made everyone temporarily forget they were rational people. Suddenly spending three dollars to throw a tiny plastic ring at a bottle felt like a reasonable financial decision. Suddenly winning a stuffed animal that would take up half your bedroom felt like an important life goal.
Robin was no exception.
She stood at the ring toss booth with a confidence that suggested she had been preparing for this moment her entire life, even though you had personally watched her miss the last four rings by a distance that was almost impressive.
“I don’t understand,” she said, staring at the bottles like they had betrayed her. “The physics are wrong.”
“The physics are not wrong.” You laughed, standing behind her and resting your chin on her shoulder.
“They are.” She huffed, ignoring the tightness in her throat at your sudden closeness.
“You threw one sideways.”
“I was accounting for wind resistance.” Robin defended herself, although that rarely ever worked out in her favor.
“There is no wind, Robin.”
“Exactly. That’s what makes it suspicious.” She spoke like she just found some important evidence to a case. It was adorable, really.
You tried not to laugh because she looked so genuinely offended by the concept of losing to a carnival game. Robin had a way of turning the smallest inconveniences into personal battles. A broken vending machine wasn’t just broken—it was “a machine actively choosing violence.” A long line wasn’t just a long line—it was “a social experiment designed to test the limits of human patience.”
You had learned that arguing with her was rarely useful. It was much more entertaining to let her explain herself.
“You know,” you said, watching her pick up another set of rings, “most people would just admit they’re bad at something.”
Robin looked at you like you’d suggested something completely unreasonable. “Why would I do that when I could instead develop a complicated theory about why I was set up?”
“Because that’s easier?”
“Incorrect.” She tossed another ring. It bounced off the bottle and landed in the grass. She stared. The silence lasted long enough that you started laughing. Not a small laugh either. The kind you couldn’t really stop once it started.
Robin looked over at you, and for a second she forgot to pretend she was annoyed. Her expression softened into something much warmer, something that made her look less like the sarcastic girl who always had a comeback ready and more like someone who was just happy she had made you laugh.
Then she realized she was staring. Immediately, she looked back at the game. “Okay,” she said quickly. “Well. Clearly the booth operator has a personal vendetta against me.”
“You just said that about the Scrambler.” You retorted as your laughter died down, almost kicking back up again as she remembered Robin getting mad at the ride before, the Scrambler, that had slung her around and had her convinced the operator did that on purpose.
“Consistency is important."
“You have a lot of excuses.”
“I have a lot of evidence.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere.”
“Convenient.”
“Extremely.”
You shook your head, still smiling. The truth was, you liked this version of her. Everyone knew Robin as the girl who talked fast and noticed everything. The girl who could insult someone and compliment them in the same sentence. The girl who always seemed like she was one thought ahead of everyone else.
But you also knew the quieter parts.
The way she tapped her fingers against her leg when she was nervous. The way she looked around a room before entering it. The way she acted like she didn’t care what people thought while secretly remembering every little thing someone said about her.
You noticed. You noticed more than you probably should have. “Here,” you said, taking one of the rings from her hand.
Robin raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, you’re going to show me how it’s done?”
“Maybe.” You told her with a cocky grin, standing in front of her now with your head turned back to look at her.
“That’s a dangerous amount of confidence.” She shook her head like she already knew you were gonna bomb it.
“Watch.”
That got Robin's attention, immediately focusing on you as you tossed the ring.
It landed perfectly. For a second, Robin didn’t say anything. Then she slowly looked at the booth worker.“Okay, that’s suspicious.”
You laughed. “You cannot be serious.”
“No, I’m serious. You’ve been secretly practicing.”
“I have not.” You said with an incredulous expression, finding it ridiculous that she would accuse you of such thing.
“Years of training?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Interesting..” She narrowed her eyes at you. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
“You mean you’re impressed.”
“I mean I think you’re hiding something.”
“Sure.”
The booth worker handed you the tiny stuffed frog you’d won, and you immediately held it out toward Robin. She blinked.
“What?”
“You were eyeing it earlier.”
“That was because—”
“You seemed attached.” You cut her off, dropping the stuffed frog in her hands and crossing your arms.
“I was not attached.” Robin looked at it. Then at you. Then back at the frog. “…Fine.” She took it. And even though she rolled her eyes while doing it, you noticed she held it carefully for the rest of the afternoon.
—
By the time the sun started dipping lower, everyone was tired in the comfortable way that only happened after spending hours outside.
The kind of tired where nobody wanted to admit they were ready to leave because the day had somehow gone by too quickly.
You all sat on a bench near the edge of the midway with paper trays of fries balanced between you. The fireworks wouldn’t start for another hour, but the fair had already shifted into its nighttime version. The lights on the rides flickered on one by one, making everything look softer and more magical than it had during the afternoon.
Robin sat beside you, shoulder brushing yours every once in a while whenever either of you moved.
Neither of you mentioned it.
She was telling you about a movie she’d rented recently, except she had somehow spent five minutes explaining why the soundtrack was better than the actual plot.
“You haven’t even seen it,” she said when you pointed this out.
“I don’t need to.”
“Yes, you do.” She insisted, shoving fries in her mouth as she looked at you like you were crazy for suggesting the movie didnt need to be watched.
“I can tell from the trailer.”
“You watched the trailer?”
“No.” You stared at her. Robin shrugged.
“You’re judging an entire movie based on nothing.”
“You told me all I need to know!”
“No, you need to see it for yourself.” Robin kept pushing, a pouty expression on her face as she pleaded for you to watch the damn movie.
“Fine. Your place tonight.”
She smiled down at her fries when you agreed, already planning the movie night mentally.
There were moments with Robin where everything felt strangely easy. Like this. Like sitting in the middle of a crowded fair, surrounded by noise and lights and hundreds of people, and somehow feeling like the two of you had your own little space.
It was ridiculous. You had known her for years. She was your friend. That was all. Except sometimes she looked at you like she was about to say something and then changed her mind. Sometimes she stood a little closer than she needed to. Sometimes you caught yourself wondering what would happen if you stopped pretending you didn’t notice.
Before you could think too much about it, Dustin’s voice interrupted from across the walkway.
“Photo booth!”
You looked over. A small striped booth sat near the arcade entrance, its faded sign flickering slightly above it. Dustin was already dragging everyone in that direction. “Absolutely not,” Steve said.
"Absolutely yes." The gap-toothed kid spoke determinedly.
“I hate pictures.” Steve groaned, which was absolutely rich to you and Robin since he was Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, the most popular guy in school.
“That’s why it’s funny.”
Robin watched them argue, then glanced toward you. The corner of her mouth lifted. “Do you wanna?”
You looked at the booth. Then at her. “Yeah.”
She hesitated for half a second, like she hadn’t expected you to say yes so quickly. “Okay.”
The two of you stepped inside. The curtain fell closed behind you, blocking out the noise of the fair. Suddenly it was quiet.
Not completely quiet—the sounds outside were still there, muffled by the thin fabric—but enough that you became aware of how close you were sitting.
Robin noticed too. Of course she did. She noticed everything.
“So,” she said, looking anywhere except directly at you, “this is a very small space.”
“It is.”
“Not that I mind.”
“I didn't think you would've.” You said simply, your leg draping over her thigh to take advantage of the tiny space.
“What's that mean?” She inquired, an audible gulp coming from her when your leg made contact with her.
A pause.
“Don't worry about it.” You smiled.
The camera began to flash its countdown.
And before Robin could overthink what was happening, before she could turn another ordinary moment into a hundred different possibilities in her head, you leaned closer, smiling widely with your eyes closed with your face beside hers.
The first flash went off.
"God, that thing's blinding." Robin complained about the flash, looking at the screen that counted down from five.
Without another thought, you grabbed her chin whenever you saw the numbers getting lower on the countdown. It reached two, and then you kissed her. "Shut up." You muttered against her mouth, a wide smile still on your lips.
Robin completely froze. Forget all the witty remarks she knew, all of the easy banter she had with you. Because you just kissed her.
Once the flash went off and the picture was taken you pulled back, giggling a little whenever you saw the look on her face. "Sorry.. was that alright?"
She couldn't even form a response right now. Instead she just nodded eagerly, her cheeks burning a furious shade of red.
You just accepted that with a laugh and a shake of your head. As the next and last photo counted down, you turned Robin's face towards the camera, your hand still on her chin, and licked the side of her face.
She made a face of disgust just as the camera flashed for the last time, causing you to burst out laughing.
"That last one's terrible! We've gotta retake it!" She squealed whenever she saw herself, face still flushed but this time from embarrassment.
You handed her one of the two photo strips you purchased, slipping yours in the back of your denim shorts. "You look fine, stop moaning."
And that sure did make her listen. As long as you thought she looked okay, well, that's all that mattered.
You grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the booth with you, catching wind of Steve's smirk whenever he saw you both, then his eyes widened a little when he noticed Robin's blushing face and lovesick look.
Of course, the first time Harrington decides to catch on to something quick, it's this.
But you pull Robin away before he could get a teasing retort in.
The fireworks started soon anyway, it was better to get a seat now before it got all crammed up, so you lead her towards the grass, still hand in hand.
Everyone found a spot on the ground near the edge of the fairgrounds, where the rides were still visible in the distance but the crowd wasn’t quite as overwhelming.
Steve had somehow acquired enough blankets for everyone despite nobody knowing where he found them.
Dustin insisted the best view was “strategically located.” Erica informed him that nobody cared.
The sky darkened slowly, the last traces of sunset disappearing behind the trees. You sat beside Robin.
Not touching. But close enough that you could feel the warmth of her shoulder whenever the wind shifted.
She kept glancing at you. Not obviously. Robin was many things, but she wasn’t usually that brave. Still, every few minutes her eyes drifted over. Checking. Making sure you were still there. You noticed.
Eventually, you nudged her. “You know I can see you looking, right?”
Robin immediately looked forward. “I wasn’t.”
“You were, babe.” You teased, leaning back with your hands supporting you as they were behind you.
“I was looking at the fireworks area.”
“The fireworks haven’t started.”
True. There wasn't a way to snap back from that one, unfortunately. You laughed quietly.
“You’re terrible at lying.”
“I know.” She sighed, although you could practically hear the smile just from the tone of her voice alone.
There was something almost comforting about her admitting it. No excuses. No elaborate explanation. Just honesty.
The first firework exploded above them before either of you could say anything else. The whole field lit up. For a moment, everyone went quiet. Even Robin.
Which was rare enough that you turned to look at her. She was watching the sky. The colors reflected in her eyes, her face softer than usual.
She looked happy. And maybe she was thinking the same thing you were.
Maybe this was one of those moments you would remember years later.
You were seventeen, sitting in a field in Hawkins, Indiana, watching fireworks with the girl you weren’t supposed to be falling for.
Robin looked over. “You know,” she said quietly, “I think today was actually fun.”
You smiled. “Actually?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. High praise.”
“I know. Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late.”
She rolled her eyes. But she was smiling.
"Can I do something more fun?"
"What's that–"
Before she could even get a sentence out, you just went for it. You kissed her again.
It took Robin a second to process it again, realizing this wasn't just for a picture and was a real kiss. When she finally snapped back to reality her hand found its way on top of your knee (seemed to be the safest place, she thought) and kissed you back with equal want.
Fireworks boomed off around them, everyone else too focused on the show to notice them. And Robin thought, for once, she could just be.
i specifically started this moodboard because of the word “sapiosexual” which i think is very moonrose!!! i was thinking on how they see themselves as a very mature couple and all smart and intelligent—remus in his humanities and evan in his stem—and that they’re better and smarter than others.
i think of evan initially started liking remus because he thought of him as the more mature and intelligent one of his marauders group—finding him “worthy” or something of the sorts. remus found evan interesting and calming to be around—also thinking of him as “smart enough” to talk to, able to talk about more philosophical and advanced subjects with him without being ridiculed for finding the subjects interesting.
anyways, there are some more thoughts on moonrose!!! i was just thinking of them being pretentious again, don’t mind me
tags: @devilthedare @ecklekecle @space-girliee @laced-in-ruin (i wanna convince you on moonrose a lil bit, if i may humbly do so)
Just so you know, some people could probably tell thay you write with AI because of the tone and quotation marks in your work. If you look closely, some quotation marks ( " " ) are curled ( “ ” ) while the others are straight. And you so write with AI, don't you? That's okay honestly. Just fix the quotation marks so people don't jump you for it.
omg no its different from when I write with my phone or my computer stop
