#JIM PUT THE CIGARETTE DOWN FOR A GODDAMN SECOND

[aurinkomoukari]

Jim and Shawn in Tokyo 🤌🏼

📸 13kazuya13 on Instagram

[babbushka]

Dead Man

Flip Zimmerman x Reader 

(word count: 2.5k ; warnings: N*FW babey)

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You were zipping down the main road, convertible top down, wind in your hair and radio blasting. There was not another soul in sight, and you had just done some serious damage at the grocery store, taking advantage of all the new sales for the week. 

Dolly Parton’s new single had just hit the airwaves, and you could not get enough of it. You sang at the top of your lungs along to the heart-wrenching ballad, grateful that no woman could tempt your man the way Jolene seemed to be able to tempt Dolly’s.

You were so caught up in the song and the atmosphere of the beautiful Colorado mountains that you were driving through, that it wasn’t until the commercial on the radio started playing and you turned the volume down that you noticed the flashing red and blue lights behind you.

“Oh shit.” You cursed to yourself, checking your speed.

A decent twenty miles over the limit, you saw, and you groaned. 

You pulled over and turned the radio all the way off, hoping it was one of Flip’s friends in the car behind you, hoping that you could maybe maybe maybe sweet-talk your way out of a ticket.

You fixed your hair in the rear-view mirror, and waited patiently for…well speak of the devil, you thought, when your very own husband took his time walking over to your door.

Those cowboy boots of his crunched on the gravel of the side of the road, and you really couldn’t help but admire how good he looked in those sunglasses of his, cigarette poking out of the corner of his mouth.

“License and registration, ma’am.” He said, voice deep deep deep, the kind of voice that made you weak for him.

“Honey? What are you doing out here?” You asked, slightly confused.

“That’s Detective Zimmerman to you.” He licked his teeth.

You knew what game he was playing, you knew. He knew you knew.

You wanted to be difficult.

“Is Jimmy with you?” You asked, craning your neck around to peer through the windshield of the car behind you, the lights stopped flashing for now. Sure enough, there was your friend, looking as amused as could be. “Hey Jim!”

“Hi (Y/N)!” He shouted back at you, and you could hear the laugh in his voice.

Flip tapped on the side view mirror to capture your attention again, and you gave it with a raised eyebrow.

“Ma’am, do you know how fast you were speeding?” Flip asked, face perfectly stoic, perfectly professional.

Your man was nothing if not professional.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” You rolled your eyes, being a brat, being difficult, knowing you’d pay for it, knowing he’d pay for this.

“I’m perfectly serious.” He said, and there it was – the barest hint of a smirk, of a smile, as he sucked the last of the cigarette down, as he snuffed it out between his heel and the coarse gravel below.

His tone brooked no argument, so like a good, law-abiding citizen, you fished out your license and registration, handed it over to Flip who thanked you and took it back to his cop car.

Jimmy was shaking his head fondly when Flip returned, pretended to run it through the system, just to stall for time and annoy you even more. Hopefully you’d be feisty, you’d be aggravated enough to punish him later for it.

“You’re going to be in so much trouble, Zimmerman.” Jimmy laughed, smoked his own cigarette.

Flip didn’t tell him that that was the whole point.

“Drive her car back home?” He said instead, and Jimmy just shook his head again.

“Sure thing.” Jimmy replied, the two of them walking back to your car.

You had gotten out of the car in the meantime, had turned it off and was twirling the keys around your finger. This wasn’t the first time he had pulled a stunt like this, not even close. You knew what you were in for, and you couldn’t help the fluttering in your stomach.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to bring you down to the station, there’s a warrant out for your arrest.” Flip said with mock disappointment.

“Is that so?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Yep.” Flip nodded, “Being too goddamned beautiful. Can’t have a menace like that running loose on the streets.” And there it was, there was that big smug fucking grin that had you rolling your eyes, had you handing your keys over to Jimmy, had you grow wet between your legs.

“There’s ice cream in the trunk Jimmy, could you put it in the freezer for me?” You asked sweetly, innocently, as Flip’s hands already started roaming over your sides, as he already started pulling you towards him, right there off the interstate.

“Yes ma’am, you two have fun.” Jimmy winked, getting into the car and driving away.

As soon as he was out of sight and there were still no cars coming in either direction, Flip was on you, big hands crushing your arms and pulling you to the cop car.

“Flip I’m going to kill you!” You laughed, because he was ridiculous, because he was so fucking handsome, was going to treat you so right, you just knew it.

“Threatening an officer? Now you’re in real trouble.” He said, gripping your jaw, bringing you in for a deep wet sloppy kiss.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You asked once he pulled away, taking your breath with him. 

He dipped his big thumb into your mouth, and you sucked on it, entirely too suggestively, right there out in the open where anyone could drive by and see.

“I haven’t decided yet. Hands behind your back.” He ordered.

You figured you’d let him have this, let him have you like this. At least for now.

You turned around, leaned your tits against the cop car and crossed your wrists. He cuffed you tight, tight enough that it was going to chafe, tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to break free. He pressed himself right up against you as he did it, as he slowly clicked the metal into place, and you could feel his cock grinding against your ass.

He sat you in the back of the cop car, locked the doors and drove down the main road a ways before pulling off to a lesser known path, one that wound the two of you up in a nice clearing just on the outskirts of the big mountain trails.

The clearing was beautiful, tall wild grasses and flowers lining the road, old asphalt bleached from the sun that came with the summer months. You were going to get dicked down, you knew that, knew it as you pushed your chest out, tried to make yourself look good. 

“My husband’s gonna be looking for me.” You said with a glimmer in your eye as he parked the car.

“Oh yeah? He a big guy?” He asked you, meeting your gaze through the rearview mirror. He didn’t look down at his hands as they undid his belt, he didn’t need to, he’s done it a hundred times.

You licked your lips.

“Mhm, real big. Strong. Knows how to shoot.” You noded, and he huffed a laugh at that, one that turns into a groan.

You try and peer over the seat, try to get a glimpse of his cock, because you know he’s jerking off, you know. You can see it in the way his arm is moving, how his shoulders are tensing. You wish you could do it for him, fuck your way out of this speeding ticket.

“He take care of you?” He asked, breathy, and you nod, rubbing your thighs together.

That tone of his voice does shit to you, it’s the same tone he uses when he begs for you, when he pleads. You’re going to make him beg tonight, you decided, as he spits in his palm and tugs at his cock a little faster.

“Yeah he does. And he’s not gonna be too happy that I’m not home working on dinner.” You pointed out, making him laugh again.

“Maybe I’m hungry now.” He said, eyes dark with lust, face flushed.

“Are you?” You ask, and just like that, he’s out of the driver’s seat, out of the car.

He rounded on you, pulled the door open and yanks you out, shoves you roughly against the side of the car. He could fuck you on the hood, but that’s no fun, not when he’s got you cuffed like this.

He kicks your feet apart with those heavy boots, and you comply eagerly, spread them and stay still as his hands slowly slowly slowly push up your skirt, as they smooth over your ass. He pulls back the elastic waistband of your panties and lets it go, lets it snap harshly against your skin, and when you whine, he does it again.

“Flip,” You’re fluttering all over, your pussy so wet, aching, desperate to be touched.

He’s hungry, he said, and he wastes little time getting his fill as he drops to his knees behind you, yank your underwear down so it’s caught between your ankles as he eats you out from behind. He’s got fingers and tongue prodding at you, massaging you, sucking and biting and licking in a way that’s got your knees buckling.

Flip spits on your cunt, uses it as lube even though it’s not nearly enough. He withdraws his fingers to keep your legs pried open, grip tight on your thighs as he buried his face in your ass, as he fucked you with his mouth. His facial hair is harsh and stinging in all the right ways, it scrapes and scratches against your inner thighs and you’re drooling from both ends at the rough treatment.

It’s not enough, not nearly enough, and you tell him so.

“If you don’t shove that cock in me soon I’m gonna scream.” You warn, wrists straining against the cuffs as you try and reach for something to ground yourself with.

“You wouldn’t dare – ” He pulls back, scrambling up to clamp a hand over your mouth when you absolutely do dare, when you take in a deep breath and let out just the tiniest fraction of a second of a scream loose. “Shit (Y/N)!”

“Told you.” You grin, muffled against his hand.

He growls, holds your head down against the side of the car with one hand and frees his cock again with the other, belt and zipper clinking together from the fury behind it. A stunt like that could get you both caught, could lure someone, anyone, to the scene. Some poor hiker might just find you getting fucked blind, and then what would you do?

“Fine, you want to be a brat, be a brat.” He sucked his teeth, growls at you as he guides his cock into you, shoves it in roughly, so so rough. You’re going to be bruised by the end of this, you know that, you moan for it.

“Yes!” You gasp as he splits you on his dick, all ten inches of it forcing its way into you, barely giving you time to adjust.

His hips shove you up and up and up, until you’re up on your tippie toes, and you’re moaning these breathy little whimpers, unable to move, can’t go anywhere with how he’s got you pinned to the side of the car, right out in the open clearing, right there. 

He fucks into you fast, balls slapping your ass, and he wants to see your tits but he can’t, and that pisses him off.

“God you’re fucking filthy.” He hisses, seethes as you push back against him, meeting each of his thrusts in time.

“Pot calling the kettle black, c’mon detective, fuck me like you mean it.” You can’t help but laugh, tease, always teasing.

He grabs a hold of your hair and hauls you off the side of the car for a moment, before dropping you down onto the backseat inside the car. It’s easier to fuck you like this, easier for you to take his cock, and you’re moaning loud into the leather upholstery, hands grasping at nothing from where they’re bound behind your back. 

You love being manhandled like this, love love love it, love it when he smacks you hard, the back of your thighs stinging from the blow. He does it again, watching as big red welts form, welts that are only going to chafe as he fucks you with his jeans still on his hips. 

He bends himself over you, draped himself across your whole back. He covers your mouth with one hand and shoves some fingers down your throat, holds your pelvis down with the other, holds you in place as he rails you so hard that the shocks squeak.

“You gotta be quiet, be quiet for me, be good.” He says over and over, low in your ear.

Your hair is clinging to the sweat on your face, and you’re clenching so tight around him that he knows he’s going to come soon, he knows he will. He doesn’t give a shit, he knows he’ll come again later after his shift, knows you’ll punish him for taking control like this.

“Flip – honey please, please please please.” You’re muffled against his hand, drooling all over his fingers, crying now, because of course you are, because it’s too much, it’s overwhelming, it’s so fucking good.

He pets your hair back and kisses your neck, grinds his cock into you slowly, drags it against your gspot again and again and again.

“Shh, shh, be good. My good girl, c’mon.” He whispers, licks at your cheek, bites your ear. “You can take it, you can take me.” 

You’re pressing your sweat and tears into the leather and he wants to make you lick it up, but you do without even being told, wanting to be good for him.

He yanks your head up by your hair and fucks you until he’s coming, until he can feel you gush on his cock and you’re coming too, until the both of you are panting and your throats are dry dry dry from all the gasps you’ve pulled from each other’s throats.

 When you’ve both calmed down, Flip is quick to un-do the cuffs around your wrists. He kisses them, soothes them with massaging hands, lavishes love and apologies into the skin there. You let him, let him pull out of you and turn you over, let him fuck the come that’s spilled out back into you with callused fingers.

“You’re lucky we didn’t get caught.” You said, a big grin creeping up on your face.

He stuck his fingers into your mouth and you sucked them clean, and only once they were clean did he go back to carefully righting your clothes, fixing your hair, like you were both at home and not in the back seat of some cop car in the middle of a clearing off the interstate.

“Let’s get you home.” He said, ignoring you, making you roll your eyes and swat at his shoulder.

“Whose car is this anyway?” You asked, suddenly terribly curious as to whose property you just defiled in such a dirty way.

“Trapp’s. He’s sick, me and Jimmy were bringing it to the station for him.” Flip explained, hauling you out of the backseat and opening the passenger door for you like the gentleman he was.

You only shook your head and sat primly in the car, buckling your seatbelt while he went around to sit in the driver’s seat, as he lit his cigarette and turned the car back on.

“You better go through a carwash before turning it in, you asshole.” You laughed, making him grin, because of course he would.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll add on to your speeding ticket.” He teased, and for a minute you thought he was just joking.  

“Wait, that ticket was real?” You asked all of a sudden, eyeing the little slip of paper in the cup-holder that had your name on it, literally.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled onto the main road, and it was all you could do but groan and let out an exasperated,

“Flip Zimmerman you’re a dead man!”

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Tagging some pals, lol sorry i just had to get this one out of my system!  @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kylo-renne @callmehopeless @kyloxfem @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @solotriplets   @fullofbees @spinebarrel @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler  @ladygrey03 @venusianmaiden marvelous-blog-221 @edwardseyelashes @softcrybabykid @tinyplanet-explorers

[hazzasgayvodka]

11 * ICEBERG * 11

Impact: Chapter 11

Chapter title song: Iceberg - BORNS

HARRY

I meet her eyes across the office as soon as her mouth falls open. She looks between us and I know instantly that she's figured it out. Of course she has, I've been damned to look just like him.

I mouth to her to leave and she nods her head, pressing the button for the elevator again and turning her back to me. Dammit, all I want to see is her eyes.

I follow Lex to the conference room with Vance trailing behind me, trying desperately to carry a conversation with me. Sorry, Dad, not happening. I look back to the elevators to see her gone and relief and dread fill me equally within the same two seconds. As much as I want her beside me right now, I need to do this alone, and I want him nowhere near her.

"Harry?"

The asking of my name sends me hurtling back to reality where I'm living a day in my own personal hell, being ushered into a claustrophobic room and once again sat at a wooden table much too large for only three people. But today, there won't only be three people.

I'm trying to keep my breathing in check as more and more people filter into the room, Lisa from marketing and Zach from sales. Everyone and their mother is squished into this tiny glass cell of a room and suddenly I can't breathe but I take a sip of water and imagine my hand sitting on her thigh.

Once everyone is seated and my glass of water is empty from my nervous sipping, Lex steps up to the head of the table.

"So, let's get this show on the road," Lex begins, grabbing his manila folder from the table, prompting everyone else to follow suit.

It's now that I realize I left mine in my office and curse myself for being so frazzled while getting ready. I shove my annoying glasses up on my nose and nearly take them off before I remember her request and decide to keep them on. Vance notices the absence of my manila folder and silently offers me his but I shove it back towards him forcefully, I want nothing of his.

He gives me a sad smile as he takes it back in his hands and turns back to Lex, clearing his throat. I hope to god that he chokes.

"So, Mr. Styles, would you like to start?" Lex asks cheerfully, and my heartbeat picks up for a split second before I realize that he's talking to Vance, not me.

"Why of course," Vance smiles, already starting to pace at the head of the table to prepare for his presentation, "If you don't know, I'm Vance Styles, Lexington's brother. We both started these publishing companies a long time ago and as you all know it began as one corporation." He smiles, gesturing to the first page in the folder that showed a picture of Vance and Lex at twenty and twenty-four years old, "It wasn't easy starting out at such a young age but with a little help from mom and dad as well as a whole lot of luck, we made it," He laughs and the rest of the employees in the room join him.

As Lex joins him at the front and slings his arm around his brother I roll my eyes and finally allow myself to slump in my chair. The itinerary for the meeting said nothing about letting them bant around with each other for the first twenty minutes.

"For reasons that were applicable at the time, we split into two companies. I stuck with the name Styles and Lex went on to lead Lexington Publishing. But, those reasons have been resolved and as you all know we are merging our companies back together."

"It's going to take a lot of work and relocating and hiring the right staff, but I think we can have two amazing locations of Styles Publishing by next year," Lex chimes in, "That's the plan anyway!" He laughs.

"As far as all of you go, as heads of departments it's your job to take care of relocations of employees as well as hires to fill needed positions. We've recently promoted many promising employees and have already transferred four of our higher ups to the San Francisco location to get things moving. As far as open positions go, we're loaded with empty entry level offers as well as room for a board member to represent the editing department."

I perk up immediately, my brain already trying to recall how much a board member's salary is per year. It's got to be nearly double what I make now which is nearly jack shit between rent, classes, and fucking college textbooks. Why didn't he tell me about this before?

"And of course, with a new direction and brand to keep up with, we had to come up with a new company stanza, something that really sums up who we are. From me and my brother to the future generations to come, we will be known as, Styles Publishing: A Legacy."

Lex's eyes drift to mine as everyone claps and shrieks with excitement at the thought of what's to come. I only feel bile rising in my throat.

"I won't always be around to run this place and neither will Vance and I think I speak for both of us when I say we can't think of a better person to be an heir to this company than, Harry." Lex smiles, gesturing for me to join them at the head of the table.

I refrain from rolling my eyes, an obvious habit I've started picking up from Jess. I push away from the table and stand up to meet them at the other end of the room. I pride myself when I realize that I stand a good six inches taller than them both. Lex grabs the display board of the new logo and Jenna from marketing kneels down in front of us to take a photo. I plaster on my fake smile, remembering that I'm wearing these stupid glasses after she snaps the picture. Dammit.

A searing pop echoes through the tiny room as people stand from their chairs and I quickly recognize the sound to be that of a bottle of champagne. I narrow my eyes on the source of the sound, the damn bottle foaming all over the table from Tabitha's hands.

A hand taps me on the shoulder and I turn around to be face to face with Vance. I feel my teeth grit as he lays a hand on my shoulder, making me jump.

"What do you want?" I huff, shoving his hand off of me.

"I just want you to know that I'm excited to be business partners," He smiles, "and nice glasses, I didn't even know you wore them."

"Well, you find things like that out if you actually take your kids to an optometrist or any kind of doctor for that fucking matter." I huff, turning back towards the door.

I need to get away from here right now. I need a cigarette, no, something stronger. I need about a fifth of Jim Beam and a good fight. My fists are already clenched at my sides, my knuckles white. I shove past the other employees as they pat me on the back and congratulate me on being the heir of the Styles Publishing.

I finally get to the door and stumble out into the empty office space, everyone else having already gone home. The whole meeting felt like a time warp and I find myself surprised when I see the clock reading nearly seven o'clock.

I enter my office and throw my glasses onto my desk in frustration. Every part of me wants to scream but instead I slip my suit jacket off my shoulders and toss it on my chair, unbuttoning my shirt down to my belly button. When I pull my hair out of the ridiculous bun on top of my head, I finally feel like myself.

I put a cigarette between my teeth and grab my lighter as I make my way back out into the hall as I head for the elevators to get home. No, to get to her. The elevator doors pull open and I make a b-line for the glass doors until my eyes land on...

"Jess?"

She comes running up to me with shaking hands, reaching for me but I take a step back, out of her grasp and I feel my face contort in anger.

"I thought I said to go home?" I ask through my gritted teeth.

"I couldn't, I couldn't leave you here, I didn't know what was going on and-"

"I specifically told you to go home! I even wore those goddamn glasses because you fucking promised! I don't need your help!" I shout.

Her face falls when my words hit her and I open my mouth to speak again but I'm cut off by a flood of voices erupting from the elevator as the doors screech open. I look over my shoulder as soon as I hear him, his loud London accent easily recognizable in the large crowd of Americans.

I shove Jess towards the doors, walking quickly behind her and urging her to walk faster. I hope to god he doesn't see us as Jess fires a million questions at me that I don't bother to answer.

"Harry! You left early!" His voice booms through the lobby causing me to stop in my tracks, nearly out the door.

I turn around with a grimace, dropping Jess' hand immediately and taking a step away from her. If he's going to know who she is, he will never know that she's with me.

"And who might this young lady be?" He asks, walking up to us with his hand extended.

Jess shakes his hand with a smile, easily persuaded by his charming facade, "Hi, I'm Jess, I'm-"

"A new intern here." I finish for her, catching her murderous gaze out of the corner of my eye.

"Ah, nice to meet you," Vance smiles, patting her shoulder, "Well where are you two off to?" He asks, dragging me back into conversation.

"Well I was just heading to take care of some errands for Audrie and, Harry? I have no idea, probably a smoke break if I had to guess?" She laughs, looking up to meet my eyes with a challenging glare.

"Actually, I have to get back to this annoying bitch I have staying at my apartment right now," I say maliciously, sending her a smirk before turning back to Vance, "She's a real piece of work-"

It's Jess that cuts me off this time. She's fuming as she turns back to me with daggers for eyes and I know for sure that if looks could kill I'd be a corpse.

"Well I sure hope you two have fun." She huffs, turning around and walking out the glass doors without so much as a glance at Vance.

I don't take a second look at Vance before following her outside and chasing her down the steps calling her name.

"Jess! Come on! I drove you here!" I shout, reaching for her shirt to pull her back to me.

"I already texted Sam, she'll be here in ten minutes." She snaps, turning away from me with her arms crossed against her chest.

"Oh come on, how are you the angry one here? I told you to do one thing! I told you to go home early from work! Most people would jump at the chance! But you can't even do that, you have to make that difficult too!" I bark back, her eyes getting glossier by the second.

"I was worried about you!" She shouts, a single tear escaping from the corner of her eye and running down her cheek.

"Well don't be, I can handle myself Jessica! I don't need you always going delving into my personal shit!"

She purses her lips at this and I can tell she's trying to piece together an argument to throw back in my face. But there is none, she's in the wrong, now if only she'd admit it.

"Harry, you scared me to death today! I have never seen you that angry and I didn't know what to do! I didn't know a name could have that effect on you, I'm sorry that I was curious about the person that could make big bad Harry Styles into a whimpering little boy!"

As soon as the words come out of her mouth I can tell that she regrets them. My blood is boiling as I take a step towards her and her inhaled breath gets caught in her throat. She tries to stand her ground, but I can see the warbling of her eyes.

"Listen here, Lawson," I seethe, my voice calculated and precise, "you might think you know me, but you have no idea. I hate to remind you but you're my fucking assistant and as your boss I can have you fired from here just as quick as you were hired. Next time I tell you to do something, you better do it. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." She mocks, rolling her eyes as she turns around and walks to the opposite side of the parking lot.

I watch her as she goes before climbing into my car and slamming the car door shut. As soon as I'm surrounded in silence my thoughts are too much to handle. Have I let her get too close? Did I say the wrong thing? Is everything ruined?

I let my head hit the steering wheel in exasperation before reaching for my keys and starting the car. I turn the music up obscenely loud to drown out my mind and pull out of my parking spot. I search the lot for her but come up empty and find myself wanting to call her to make sure she's okay.

JESS

I take my phone out of my purse and dial Sam's number while I try my best to keep my tears and sniffles at bay. She picks up on the third ring and instantly asks what wrong. I simply ask her to pick me up from work and nearly slip up and tell her that Harry couldn't drive me home. No matter how mad I am at him, I won't tell his secret.

She tells me she'll be here as soon as she can and hangs up, leaving me in silence, pacing the sidewalk once again. I see his car finally driving through the parking lot to leave and I wonder what took him so damn long. The large glass door shoves open, revealing Vance behind it and my instinct is to run but I decide to go directly against Harry's wishes and walk towards him.

"Hey, Mr. Vance, have a good night!" I call to him, waving.

"Oh, Jess, right? What are you doing standing out here in the cold? And no jacket? My god you're going to freeze!" He laughs, walking over to me.

Well I simply thought your son would lend me his, but it turns out, as I already knew, that he is an undeniable asshole, sir.

"Yeah, slipped my mind on the way in, silly me," I laugh, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm, "I'm just waiting on a ride."

"Well, you seem like a very bright young lady, I'm excited to see what you accomplish within the company," He smiles, seeming genuine, "What department do you work in?"

"Editing," I begin, deciding whether or not I want to go against Harry's precautions, "I'm Harry's assistant."

He looks indifferent as his eyes travel to the sidewalk, I can't tell if he's glad or feeling sorry for me. He looks back up to meet my eyes with his smile plastered back on and it's then that he's wearing that fake smile that he looks the most like his son.

"Oh, Harry's a good boss, he's a bit temperamental sometimes but he's a fine young man, I assure you." He grins but his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"I know him." I blurt out, wishing I could stuff it back in again.

"Pardon me?" He asks, wanting me to repeat what I already wish I didn't say.

"I mean, I have classes with him, I see him outside the office sometimes, I know he's not all hard as nails as he wants everyone to think." I say, choosing my words carefully.

He laughs at this, turning back towards the parking lot with a genuine smile on his face. He takes out his keys and the sleek silver Porsche parked in the front row comes to life.

"I'm glad someone sees him that way," He grins, his eyes solemn, "You have a good night, Jess. Don't forget your jacket tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." I laugh, relief flooding over me when I see Sam's red Honda pull into the parking lot.

She pulls up right in front of me and beeps the horn as I quickly grab the door handle and climb inside, cranking the heat up in order to defrost myself. She hands me a jacket and I pull it over my head immediately, shoving my hands in front of the air vents to blast them with hot air.

"I can't believe you missed the bus." She laughs, pulling away from the curb.

"Yeah, didn't realize what time it was." I shrug, trying to keep my lies in check with each other.

"Well, how about some coffee to warm up with?" She suggests but I barely hear her over my thoughts.  

Why was he so worried about me meeting Vance anyways? He's so nice and professional, our conversation in the parking lot was light and he even complimented Harry. Why is he trying to keep me away from Vance when Vance is a better person than he is?

She pulls into the parking lot of the Starbucks anyways and turns the car off too soon. We get out and huddle together as we walk to the front doors and quickly slip inside to bask in the warmth.

"Oh god, it feels great in here." Sam sighs, color slowly returning to her cheeks.

"Yeah, I didn't even realize how cold it was, the office felt fine." I nod, following her into line.

It's then that I see his fluffy head of blonde hair at the front of the line ordering a coffee. A smile comes over my face immediately and I grab Sam's hand, dragging her to the front with me to see him. He turns around when I tap his shoulder and his face lights up.

"Hey, Miles?"

"Jess!" He smiles, taking me in for a hug and I gladly welcome his warmth.

He turns back to the barista at the counter and tells him to get us whatever we want and add it to his order. He turns to smile at me as he says it and tucks me into his side when he realizes I'm shivering.

"Miles, you don't have to do that, I got it." I assure him.

"Well I know I don't have to, but I want to." He grins, gesturing for me to order and I do so despite it being my second drink from here today.

After I grab my hot chocolate from the counter, Miles walks me back to the front of the shop and I brace myself before going back outside. As I reach for the door handle he grabs my arm and pulls me back to him.

"Wait, Jess, I've been meaning to ask you, can we hang out again sometime?" He asks.

"Well yeah, we agreed on studying at the library on-"

"No, not stats or studying or class, I mean, let me take you out to dinner or something? Maybe?" He suggests nervously.

"Oh, I would love to Miles." I say, and his eyes look back up to mine, a smile gracing his face.

"Really? How about tomorrow night?

I try to remember what time I get off of work and then my mind goes hurtling back to him. Sam elbows me in the ribs, turning to Miles with a forced smile.

"Sounds perfect, you can pick her up at seven," Sam grins, hooking her arm through mine and nearly dragging me outside, "she's super excited, have a good night, Miles!"

As soon as we're stuffing ourselves back in the car she slaps my arm, looking at me incredulously.

"What the hell, Jess?" She shouts.

"What?"

"Were you actually going to say no to that poor boy?" She asks.

"Well, I don't know, I don't think he's-"

"If you say you don't think he's your type I will actually kick you in the mouth." She laughs, pulling out of the parking space.

"What? Why?"

"Because you always say that! You said that about Jace and Harry and now Miles! What is your type for god's sake because you've got quite the stack of wild cards in that bunch!" She chuckles, pulling back onto the main road just as her phone goes off.

She hands it to me and tells me to read it but I'm not sure I can stomach the words, "Louis says Harry is in a really bad mood, he says to give him some time to cool off and find something to do."

Sam looks at me with furrowed eyebrows as she stops at the red light and sits back in her chair. She takes her phone back from my hands and reads over the message herself.

"What happened? It's that bad that Louis doesn't want us around at all?" She asks, turning to look at me and dropping her phone in the cupholder beside her.

I don't meet her eyes as my smile inevitably turns into a frown. I turn to look out the window instead as she lists off things that we can go do while we wait for Harry to cool off but all I want to do is go home and make sure that he's okay.

[zeltricstudio]

'CAPTURE THE MOMENT'

DAWN

AUGUST 2015

“What is this shit?” Tony said as he slapped a few polaroids onto the table. The pictures were of a blurry figure in the woods at night

“Proof” Johnny replied as he lit a cigarette

“This isn’t proof. This is blurry nonsense”

“No it’s not, it’s an unknown creature in the woods” Johnny said, not paying as he continued smoking

Tony took the cigarette from Johnny’s mouth and put it out.

“Hey! I was up in the woods till 2 am trying to get you these photos, that’s gotta be worth something” Johnny said, sitting upright

“I have been very patient with you Johnny. I covered for you when you missed deadlines, showed up reeking of alcohol and even when you feel asleep in the bathroom but this is one incident too many” Tony said, rubbing his temples in frustration

“Come on, you know how hard I work-“ Johnny began to talk but was cut off

“Oh I know. All you do is fuck all, and taking shitty pictures. If I wanted shitty pictures I would do it myself”

“Please, give me one more chance, I promise I’ll fix up my act” Johnny begged

“Okay” Tony took in a very deep sigh “I’ll give you one more chance, but if you fuck this up I am done with you” Tony said sternly

“Okay thank you, I promise I won’t mess this up”

“Stop with the false promises, just actually do it. If I don’t see some goddamn proof of something in those fucking woods you’re getting the boot. Now get out of my office!” Tony yelled.

“Thank you once again, I promise not to let you down” Johnny said as he quickly got out of the room. He knew better than to push his luck when Tony got angry with him.

“Fucking prick” Johnny said once he was out of the room and the door was closed. Johnny lit another cigarette and proceeded to make his way out of the building.

Johnny was a competent photographer working for the Happyvile Paper but it didn’t take long before his charm would wear off and people began noticing he was not as good as he claimed to be. At first his excuses could past but now his boss was beginning to get annoyed with how bad he was. Johnny knew if he wanted to keep his job, he was going to need something good to show his boss. Johnny returned to his apartment and once inside, he put his equipment onto the ground and immediately fell onto his sofa, not bothering to change out of his work clothes as he went to bed.

A few hours later, around 7 pm he was woken up by some loud banging.

“Who the fuck is that?!” he shouted out, still laying on the couch

“It’s Ella”

“Oh shit” Johnny whispered to himself as he immediately sat upright and tried to make himself look presentable. “One moment” he said as he straightened his jacket and pants. Johnny slicked his hair back and opened the door.

“Hello love-“

“You’re a piece of shit” Ella said as she pushed herself past Johnny into the apartment.

“Come on it” Johnny said and closed the door

“I can’t believe you forgot” Ella said with a pissed off tone in her voice

“I didn’t forget, I just took a nap is all. I was going to call you”

“Oh yeah, where are we eating?”

“Uh- well um- there’s- there’s this uh” Johnny began stuttering, trying to think of someplace

“God, I can’t believe you!”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been caught up in work is all”

“With work? Getting drunk in the woods and taking pictures of trees isn’t work at all”

“Babe please-“

“Take your ‘babe please’ and shove it. I feel like I’m the only one trying to put in any real effort into this relationship”

“I put plenty effort into this relationship, okay? Sorry if I forgot this one time”

“I’ve made dinner plans the past 7 times! I’m the one who is constantly changing my schedule to suit yours! The amount of times we’ve had to go to the pub because you ‘forgot’ fucking hurts” Ella said, using her fingers to make air quotes for the word ‘forgot’

“Look, I’m having a really bad string of luck, just please, let me deal with work first and I’ll focus on us okay? If I do this next assignment well, I promise to take you out to a fancy dinner. I’ll make plans and everything”

Ella stood there in silence, angrily fuming as Johnny patiently waited, giving her sad eyes to gain sympathy

“You promise?” Ella asked

“Yes, 100% I promise” Johnny said with sincerity in his voice

“Okay, but I’m serious if you forget we. Are. Over!” Ella said and began leaving the apartment

“Thank you babe, I love you so much-“

“Go fuck yourself” Ella said as she slammed the door shut on her way out.

“Fucking hell” Johnny said once she was out and laid back onto the couch. After a few minutes, Johnny sat back up and lit another cigarette, before taking his laptop out of his bag and turning it on. Johnny searched “creature sightings in Sunshine” and began looking through various links. Most were obvious clickbait headlines, but one caught his attention. “The Dawn Animal Study Group”. Johnny began reading it and this was the ticket he needed. Lots of discussions about various creature sightings in Dawn and a few more images of possible creatures, but none with enough clarity. Johnny saw a number to one of the members and called them.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end spoke

“Hey mate, this is uh Jim calling about your latest photo in the study group animal thing”

“Well hello Jim, the name’s Zac. I’m glad you’re interested in our study group”

“Very interested. I’m a photographer and I love exploring wildlife and all that” Johnny said, trying to fake his enthusiasm

“I agree. Was there something you called about specifically?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if you might know of any good spots to take pictures. I tried in Happyvile but there is just nothing here”

“Happyvile? That is quite far away, are you sure?”

“Oh definitely. Got the weekend free, I am prepared to just get out there and spend the weekend taking pictures”

“Well that’s wonderful to hear. If you’re serious I might know a few spots you could head to”

“Great, that works”

“We all are exploring different parts, I’ll give you an unmarked area to explore. Who knows, you might be the first in finding something new. If you drive out to Camp Star National, you can park your car their and go venturing into the woods. It’s near a trail so if you get lost you can find your way back”

“Cheers mate, you’ve been a great help”

“Anytime. Take care”

“Take care”

Later that night, Johnny began researching about the trail and how to get there. Thankfully he was a frequent camper so he had all the gear ready to go. Johnny called Ella to let her know where he was going.

“I’m not here at the moment, please leave a name and number and I’ll get back to you *BEEP*”

“Hey babe, I’m going to be heading into Dawn tomorrow for my assignment. Normally I would ask you but I know you’re mad so I’ll just give you some space. I promise when I get back, I’ll get to work on making those dinner arrangements” Johnny hung up the phone and went to bed.

The next morning, Johnny woke up early at 5 am and began making his drive. After 2 hours of driving, Johnny arrived at Camp Star National. Johnny went to the Ranger’s Station to report in.

“Name?” The Ranger asked as he clicked his pen

“Johnny Finn” Johnny replied

“How long will you be camping?”

“2, 3 days”

“Have you been camping before?”

“Yes, plenty of times”

“Okay, I know you know the basic rules but I got to go over them”

“Yeah I know” Johnny said as he began lighting a cigarette

“1. No littering of any kind. This includes clothing, camp gear and other item, especially cigarettes.” He said and eyed Johnny, who stopped himself and put the packet back into his pocket

“Whatever you bring with you, you take back with you.

2. No hunting or disturbing the wildlife.

3. If you have animals, make sure to clean up after them.

And 4. No going beyond the yellow tape”

“Yellow tape” Johnny asked, curiously

“We are still exploring the area and making a trail. Anything past the yellow tape is unexplored and most likely not safe to go through”

“Ah right”

“Yep. Please sign this to acknowledged you heard the rules and agree to them. Failure to comply can result in a fine”

Johnny signed the paper and he began setting out to explore. Johnny ventured off the main path and continued walking through the dense woods. The further Johnny went, the less he saw people camping and eventually he was all alone until he came across the yellow tape. Johnny thought for a few seconds and thought ‘fuck it’ and went anyways. He most likely would be returning the next morning and figured he couldn’t get lost easily. Johnny ducked under the tape and went off.

After a few hours of walking it began to get dark. Johnny was prepared to set-up camp until he noticed something in the distance. Johnny saw what looked to be train tracks that were still intact. Johnny followed the tracks for a bit and that’s when he noticed there was movement ahead. There was a group of men in black clothing moving what looked to be a metal box on wheels. The box was strapped down with chains and was shaking violently as whatever inside was trying to get out. Johnny would’ve turned away but he needed something and this was the best he was going to get. Johnny put his equipment down and took his camera with him as he slowly trailed behind the men, sticking to the trees.

As Johnny trailed behind, he began silently snapping a few more pics. The tracks lead to what appeared to be a tunnel. The entrance to the tunnel was closed off by security fences with a sign on them saying “NO TRESSPASSING”. The men removed the fence and wheeled the metal box through before closing it. Once the men began descending, Johnny waited and looked around and once the coast was clear, he climbed the fence over and began his descent. Soon it began to get darker and darker and Johnny took out his lighter to light the path. The closer Johnny got, the more the rotten smell began to intensify. It was putrid, so Johnny hiked his shirt up over his noise to try and block out the smell. Johnny reached the bottom of the hill and contemplated if he should venture further into the tunnel.

“Fuck, fuck” he said quietly to himself, debating his actions. “Come on Johnny, you’ve come this far, don’t pussy out now” he reminded himself and continued walking into the tunnel. The tunnel was very wide, with 4 tracks running through. Some were still intact and others had been stripped and removed. The eerie silence and darkness didn’t help Johnny as his heart began beating faster. The sound of his feet and the flickering of his lighter were amplified in the tunnel and sounded much louder than they were. After a few minutes of wondering in the darkness, Johnny noticed a light in the distance. As Johnny got closer, he noticed a small living area had been set up. There were train carts that had been stripped of their wheels and some couches and folding chairs in poor condition strew around several barrels on fire, lighting up most of the area. Johnny could hear the men up ahead and went into a train car and hid in the darkness to peak on them.

“Okay, easy now” one of the men said as he and another man were setting down the metal box onto the ground and removing the chains.

One of the men from a side room walked into view, dragging a man who had been bound and gagged, viciously struggling against him.

“Relax pal, quit squirming” the man in black said before gut punching the bound man, making him double over and fall to the ground, curling up

“Okay we ready?” one of the men said

“Yeah” the others all agreed and all of the men left the area and went into the backroom. One of the men took out a small knife and stabbed the bound man in the arm.

“MMMMMM” the bound man tried screaming, but his gag prevented it.

The last man ran into the backroom and shut the door. The metal cage began beating faster and faster. Johnny was horrified but he still continued taking pictures, making a mental note to alert the Ranger to what was happening. The metal box began to break, first the hinges popped and then the chain surrounding the door broke free. The door popped open and a creature came tumbling out. The creature was the most horrific thing Johnny had seen. He appeared to be a humanoid figure, with most of the skin stitched together, giving the appearance of a melted man. His arms were massive and building out, as if there were about to pop. It’s head was covered in giant bubbles of flesh, obstructing his face. The creature got up and began walking over to the bound man, who tried to wiggle away but the pain was too much for him to push past. The creature grabbed the bound man by his neck and easily lifted him a few feet into the air, strangling him. The creature then grabbed his shoulder and began pulling the head apart. With a single motion, the creature tore the head off the man, spraying blood all over the area.

Johnny was in completely shock and nearly vomited, horrified at what he just witnessed. The creature was about to continue ripping apart the man, until he stopped and stared directly at Johnny. The sudden stare made Johnny stumble, giving away his location. The creature threw the man’s body at the wall, making a sickening splat noise as it hit the concrete with intense force. Johnny quickly got back up and began running to the exit as the creature began running. The creature’s footsteps were extremely heavy, making loud thuds as it slowly began closing in on Johnny. The darkness of the tunnel were suddenly illuminated by red lights that filled the entire room. With the entire tunnel lit up, Johnny began noticing all the dead bodies slumped against the walls. All of them were torn or destroyed, with their guts sprayed out and stretched across the walls. Johnny didn’t have time to stop as he heard the sound of mechanisms activating. Near the hill leading up, a giant metal gate dropped down and made an extremely thunderous slam as it fell to the ground.

“No no no no!” Johnny began screaming as he reached the gate. The bars were too tight together, not allowing enough room to squeeze past. Johnny turned around and saw the creature running towards him, followed by several more creatures rushing to him.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Johnny kept screaming to himself, as the creatures surrounded him and charged at him. The first creature gripped Johnny by his throat and lifted him into the air silencing him as he began choking. Another creature grabbed Johnny by his arm and began tugging him. More and more creatures began grabbing Johnny’s limbs and began pulling. Almost simultaneously, all of Johnny’s limbs were ripped off, their blood spraying all over the gate and walls. Johnny’s head was detached from his body and thrown away. The creatures threw the body parts away from them, some hitting the walls and others hitting the gates. The creatures left the gate and returned to the tunnels.

“*BEEP* You have 2 new messages *BEEP*”

“Don’t bother coming into work today, you’re dead to me. If you show up, I’m calling the cops on you. You are officially fired!” Tony screamed and hung up.

“*BEEP*”

“I really thought you changed Johnny, I really hoped you did. But no calls, you’re not picking up. I’m done with you. Don’t bother calling me, I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again” Ella said and hung up.

“*BEEP*”

“We got anything?” A man in black asked as he put the phone down

“Nothing. Aside from a phone call to girlfriend and some guy named Zac, Johnny only told them he went to Dawn” Another man in black responded as he continued searching through Johnny’s apartment.

“Guess we’re done here”

The man in black pulled out a phone and called someone.

“We’re clean here. Johnny Finn died after being mauled to death by an angry animal. He shouldn’t have crossed the yellow tape”

“Understood” the man on the other end responded.

The man in black hanged up the phone and the two of them left the apartment.

[creativeashproductions]

Lycanthrope [2] // Steve Harrington

Summary: Quiet about the knowledge of the dimension your boyfriend kept secret from you for a variety of reasons. One being that you were a werewolf hiding out from a determined hunter in your home town. When a fight ensues with Steve it forces a chain of events that may break your relationship permanently.

Characters: Steve Harrington x werewolf!Reader, Mike Wheeler, Chief Jim Hopper, Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, Byers family, Max Mayfield, Nancy Wheeler and Billy Hargrove.

Words: 2016

Disclaimer: I do not own Stranger Things or the characters involved. I only own the Reader and her plot. I also do not own any gifs or images that may appear in this either. The desktop theme provides the owner of the gifs.

Warnings: Swearing, verbal fighting, violence, death and angst.

Author: Caitsy

A/N: A request from an anon that is split into two parts. Left you on a cliffhanger than I may or may not resolve.

Part One

Master List

Prompt List

ASK US A QUESTION LIST

“Take Denfield, then you’ll see a large oak tree.” Hopper began swiftly taking Will’s prone body to the car, “You’re gonna swing a right. That road is gonna dead-end. And it’s about a five minute walk from there.”

“Okay. Denfield to oak tree. Swing a right. That’s it. But it’s channel ten, right?” Jonathan asked while you watched it from the couch where Dustin was asking questions. Soon the group split into what they had planned out.

“Can you change at any moment?”


“Yes.” You blandly stated staring at your boyfriend.

“Do you only change into a full wolf?”

You sighed closing your eyes to look down before looking up at the curly haired boy with glowing yellow eyes and your face deformed with fur. He jumped along with the others in the room seeing your change while Nancy and Steve left to scavenge for materials.

“I inherited the ability to fully shift into a wolf.” You explained watching the exchange between Jane and Mike. Steve had returned still cold to you for understandable reasons.

“That is so cool.” Dustin exclaimed shaking his head. You shook your head in modest agreement while Steve peeked at you from the corner of his eye.

“Sometimes.” You sighed, “Other times it’s a pain to struggle every month and being bound by pack rules to follow your Alpha.”

Steve shook his head again as he followed the urging of Dustin to collect the dead demodog in a sheet before attempting to put it in the fridge.  You played with your fingers as Lucas went into more detail about the situation with Max while cleaning up the glass.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled when Steve turned away from the fridge and his honorary little brother. You refused to pay attention to other things when your anchor was angry at you, “You have every reason to hate me and want to break up.”

“Are you serious? I’m very in love with you! We’ve made plans for our future together! While I am pissed you didn’t tell me about your entire life that doesn’t mean I want to break up!” Steve exclaimed gripping your hands in his, “I love you goddamn it!”

“Real touching guys but we have bigger problems.” Max spoke quietly. You only zoned into Lucas and Mike’s conversation when Dustin called out to correct them. he had some kind of attachment to the name he had given the monsters that connected with the Mind Flayer.

“The chief will take care of her.” Lucas firmly spoke while Max shook her head in shock. It was still sinking in that there was more to the world than she had grown up knowing.

“Like she needs protection.”

“Listen dude. A coach calls a play in a game, bottom line you execute it. All right?” Steve said drying his hands on the towel while everyone stared in disbelief.

“Okay, first of all this isn’t some stupid sports game. And second we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

“Rig…so my point is…” Steve trailed off grasping for nothing, “Right. Yeah, we’re on the bench so uh…there’s nothing we can do.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Dustin began glancing at Steve, “I mean, these demodogs. They have a hive mind, when they ran away from the bus they were called away.”

“Bus?” You slowly questioned looking at your sheepish boyfriend.

“So if we get their attention.” Lucas spoke up while Max finished his sentence.

“Maybe we can draw them from the lab.”

“Clear a path to the gate.” Mike finished thinking solely for the sake of Jane and Will.

“Yeah and then we all die!” Steve raised his voice incredulous at the thoughts of the kids he was ordered to protect.

“That’s one point of view.” Dustin said.

“A very stupid one.” You muttered, “It’s not a point of view.”

“Exactly.” Steve said snapping his fingers in your direction, “No that’s not a point of view man. That’s a fact.”

“I got it!” Mike exclaimed shoving his way passed Dustin and Steve to a wall covered in drawings that you hadn’t noticed until now, “This is where the chief dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnel. So…here right here. This is the hub.”

You all followed the young Wheeler through the room to each different way as he rushed to explain his theory. You didn’t fully pay attention when Steve’s hand gently maneuvered into your hand and eased your racing heart and mind.

“Oh. Yeah? That’s a no.” Steve quickly shot the idea down.

“Mike in order to burn it we would have to be down there near the flames. It’s too dangerous, I heal fast but you guys don’t.”

“The mind flayer would call away his army.” Dustin spoke up.

“They’d all come to stop us.” Lucas inserted.

“We circle back to the exit.” Mike chimed in.

“Guys.” Steve failed to gain their attention again.

“By the time they realize we’re gone.”

“El would be at the gate.” Max joined in again providing with the conversation.

“No.” You shook your head while Steve got louder.

“Hey! Hey! HEY! This is not happening.” Steve shot down the idea with more force than before, “No, no, no, no. No buts! I promise I’d keep you shitheads safe and that’s exactly what I plan on. We’re staying here. On the bench and we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand?”

“This isn’t a stupid sports game!”

“We said! Does everybody understand that!” You screamed feeling your canines creep out from your gums and into visibility.

“I need a yes.” Steve slowly down but before anyone could speak again the unmistakable sound of a revving engine caught your attention.

“It’s my brother. He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.” Max gasped leaning against the couch to watch the car speeding up the driveway. You grunted wondering if things could get any worse than they already were at this point.

The familiar egotistical jackass that stepped out sent a slight shiver down your spine, he had a disgusting mullet and a penchant for shirts only buttoned up twice. A girl by his side and cigarette permanently between his lips was all you saw. You stayed with the kids inside close to the windows while Steve stepped out to deal with him.

All was well until you saw Billy shove Steve onto the ground and kick him in the ribs. The growl fell from your lips as you watched your anchor in pain. You didn’t know how many hands kept you from jumping through the window and killing the fugly fucker.

The door slammed open and Billy stood in the entry wall for a minute before that sadistic smirk planted itself on his face.

“Well well well.” Billy coldly spoke slamming the door behind me, “Lucas Sinclair. What a surprise. I thought I told you to stay away from him Max.”

Everyone tensed up as he stepped way to close to a flinching Max and terrified Lucas.

“Billy, go away.” Max spoke keeping her eyes trained on her stepbrother. You didn’t step in knowing she needed to stand up for herself.

“You disobeyed me and you know what happens when you disobey me.”

“Billy-“

“I break things.” Billy said before fluidly gripping the front of Lucas’ shirt and slamming him against the cabinet against the wall. All the while the kids and you screamed at him.

“Get off me!” Lucas weakly exclaimed struggling in the tight grip.

“Since Maxine won’t listen to me, maybe you will. You stay away from her.” Billy evenly spoke before he got more aggressive, “STAY AWAY FROM HER. You hear me?”

A moment of quiet before Lucas screamed, “I said get off me!”

Billy grunted leaning over when Lucas planted his knee hard up between Billy’s legs and you knew shit was about to hit the fan.

“You are SO dead Sinclair!” Billy yelled with eyes more wild than before, “You’re dead.”

Billy wasn’t able to make a move before he was violently pulled to face a newly appeared Steve  with one purpose in mind.

“No. You are.” Steve stated as he wound his arm back and landed a solid strong punch. It became a mess of kids yelling and Billy’s ugly laughter.

“Looks like you got some fire in you after all huh.” Billy excitedly spoke, “I’m been waiting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about.”

“Get out.” Steve slowly but firmly spoke giving Billy a glance over. Billy just watched him before swinging his fist at Steve who ducked in time before moving back up planting his fist in Billy’s face and sending him crashing into the table.

Billy stood there before he was knocked into another counter by another punch and into the sink with another one. Things were looking up until Billy’s hand found an object on the counter. Specifically a plate and slamming it on Steve’s head. Billy gained the upper hand with a solid punch and stalked into the living room with Steve.

“No one tells me what to do.” Billy growled had butting the other male teen with enough force to send him to the ground. A deep growl reverberated through the chest before your canines grew and your eyes bled yellow in the iris.

When Billy started throwing punches at your boyfriend your humanity completely disappeared, you charged the boy after the third punch to throw him into the wall. Billy tried to kick you but you gripped his leg and twisted until he fell on his face. He managed to kick your knee out and shove your elbow until a loud painful crack settled in the air.


“You really shouldn’t have done that.” You thickly spoke looking at the bone before raising your eyes to meet his.

“What the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you asking the wrong questions?” You retorted, “Don’t worry by the time I’m done I’ll have beat your fucking name out of your mind for the rest of your life.”

“You and what army?” Billy spat.

“My fangs, my claws and my anger.” You laughed as he went on to sprout words that was too terrible to repeat. Pulling his up you grasped his neck squeezing as he choked, you heard the kids screaming at you.

You didn’t know the kids had a clear view of the ice blue colour leaking and taking over the yellow of your eyes. You only stopped when Max had plunged the syringe in Billy’s neck and the others dragged you away. The blue beginning to leave your eyes.

“It’s okay.” Dustin soothed as Lucas grabbed the bandaids and handed them to Dustin to place on Steve’s face.

“I’m so fucked.” You grunted leaning against the wall. A barely conscious Billy shared words with Max before he passed out with the markings of nails in the woods near his balls.

Life began to look up when the gate was closed and your relationship was reconciled with a better bond. Now your parents were more open with your supernatural life and Steve brought you along to drop off Dustin at the dance.

“Hey we’re here.” Steve whispered gently while Dustin slammed the door jarring you from your sleep.

“Hey.” You tiredly said leaning into his body while soft music played on the radio.

“I’ve been meaning to ask.” Steve hesitated looking down at you.

“What?”

“Dustin said when you were choking Billy your eyes started to turn blue. What does that mean?” Steve questioned.

“For werewolves there are three colours of eyes. Red for Alpha, yellow for beta and omega while blue is more…disappointing and tragic.”

“What do you mean.”

“My eyes started to change colour because I was killing an innocent.” You admitted looking up at him. Steve was quiet as he pushed himself closer to you.

“Marry me.” Steve lovingly asked knowing there was no better time.

“What?” You breathed not sure how to answer.


“Marry me.”

Forever Tag List

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Stranger Things Tag List

@bilesmccall

[myspookysunshine]

Pink 1/1

Summary : A pile of second-hand baby clothes stirs up all manner of things.

Pairings : Steve Harrington/Jonathan Byers, Joyce Byers/Jim Hopper

Rating : PG-ish. Nothing in here but a mountain of fluff and a couple of curse words, because Hopper.

Warning : Fluff coming out of the eyeballs. More fluff than should be legal. I’m talking fluff, people.

Reposted on AO3 as  dustyirish 

Author’s Notes : Written for Stonathan Week : Fluff Prompt. And my god, did I fulfill it. This is not the original thing I was going to post for this prompt, but after I depressed the ever-loving hell out of everyone yesterday, I felt I had no choice but to write something happy for Steve, Jonathan and Joyce. They deserved it after what I put them through. I admit, I may have gone a bit overboard here, but you can’t say it’s depressing!

Pink, it was love at first sight yeah, pink when I turn out the light and pink gets me high as a kite And I think everything is going to be alright no matter what we do tonight.

~ Aerosmith

Joyce opened the front door and came inside to the sound of Jonathan's soft laughter. She just paused there a moment, smiling. It was such a good sound, such a missed sound, and it was all due to Steve Harrington's car parked in the yard. They had been together six months at that point. Joyce knew all of the problems it was bound to cause for the future, the whispered talk that was already circulating through Hawkins. And she couldn't care less. Jonathan laughing trumped everything.

She walked down the hallway to his bedroom, peering in at the two teens from the open doorway.

Steve was sprawled on the bed with his head in Jonathan's lap, holding a fluffy yellow baby dress in the air and grinning. Jonathan had one hand tangled in Steve's hair - the other was clutching a tiny sailor-themed onesie.

Joyce blinked. "Okay, so I know I almost flunked biology, but ..."

They both looked over and smiled. Then, as her words registered, Jonathan turned beet red, dropped the outfit and sputtered "God, Mom!" Steve just snickered.

She came in and sat on the bed, nudging Steve over with an elbow. She sensed that something was different and then realized that this was the first time Jonathan hadn't freaked out and jumped away from Steve at her approach. His head stayed pillowed in Jonathan's lap. Jonathan had removed his hand from Steve's mess of hair, but it hadn't strayed far, just to his shoulder.

Joyce wanted to laugh in delight, but contained herself, glancing around the room instead. She noted an additional pile of baby clothes spread out on the mattress behind them. "Care to clue me in here?"

Jonathan sighed. "They're having a clothing drive at school. For charity. Somehow we got stuck with this," he grumbled, gesturing at the pile.

Steve didn't seem nearly as displeased. He'd plucked out a soft pink sleeper and was gazing at it thoughtfully. "Look at this one, babe," he murmured, almost under his breath, to Jonathan. "Look at the little butterflies." Jonathan gave it an obligatory glance and went right back to what he was doing, but Steve held on.

He liked to pass himself off as brash and cocky, the life of the party. But for a few seconds, his thumb brushing over the tiny foot of the pajamas, that Steve disappeared completely. His eyes were soft, a small smile playing over his lips. In that moment, Joyce knew exactly how her son had fallen in love.

Jonathan picked up a cardboard box from the floor and started folding clothes into it. Steve snatched it away. "What are you doing? They need to be washed first." Jonathan shot him a disbelieving look.

Joyce nodded. "Steve's right." She saw his smug expression and added "For once."

Jonathan sighed again.

"Hey," she said, "Don't you have to work tonight, honey?"

He looked at her, startled. "What time is it?"

"Almost four."

Jonathan quickly untangled himself from Steve, asking "Can you wash them?" on his way out the door to the bathroom.

"Yeah ... wait. No. I've got the damn family dinner thing!" he called after Jonathan, then put his hands over his face and groaned.

"You don't sound too happy about it," Joyce offered.

"That's because I'm not. It's nothing but dead, glaring silence at the restaurant and then World War Three breaks out the minute we hit the car. And the battle rages all night." He sighed, the sound muffled by his fingers. "I'll live. I've always got my Walkman."

"And you've got us," Joyce added firmly, tugging his hands away from his face and nodding. He gave her a grateful smile. She returned it and stood. "And I'll take care of the clothes." Steve looked like he might be about to inform her which detergent to use. She cut him off at the pass, amusement tingeing her voice. "I've washed one or two baby things in my day."

She went to grab a laundry basket from her room and when she returned Steve was still sprawled on the bed, the sleeper laid out on his chest. Joyce reached for it. "Can't forget this." She paused. "Unless ... did you want to keep it, sweetie?"

It was Steve's turn to blush. He sat up and tossed the outfit into the basket like it had burned him. "Yeah, I don't think our cat would appreciate the new look."

He laughed, but he also didn't meet Joyce's eyes.

*************

Joyce heard the front door open and Hopper come in.

"Hey, sexy lady," he called as he made his usual beeline for the kitchen to lay his hat on the table and root through the fridge.

Joyce kept waiting for the warmth she felt upon hearing his voice to fade. She was beginning to think that, just maybe, it never would. "Hey yourself."

She heard him walk back in towards the couch, then the sudden squeak in the floorboard as he stopped in his tracks, and "...Joyce?" It was a strangled croak.

She looked quickly over and saw him goggling at the pile of freshly-washed baby clothes on her lap. "What?" She stared, puzzled, for a moment before it hit her. "Oh, no! No, Hop! Not me." She let out a laugh. "Jonathan and Steve."

Hopper quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, not really lessening my questions any." At least he sounded like he was breathing again.

She grinned. "A clothes drive, for school."

Hopper plopped down beside her. The smile fell from Joyce's face and her heart clenched as she realized the baby things might stir up sad memories. She sneaked glances his way, trying to gauge his reaction. Thankfully, he didn't seem bothered, just settled in like always, with a beer between his legs and an arm around her shoulder.

"If this is their job, how'd you get stuck with it?"

"Work and an unfortunate dinner obligation."

Joyce expected Hopper to ask about their own dinner plans. Instead, he asked something else entirely, softly and with concern in his eyes. "Those kids are really in love, aren't they?"

She nodded. "That's putting it mildly."

"Christ." He sighed and kissed her forehead. "It's gonna be a shitstorm for them, Joyce."

She touched his hand. "Love always is a shitstorm, Hopper."

"Ain't that the truth. By the way, who the hell does Harrington think he's fooling? With the whole parking three blocks away and sneaking in the window every night routine?"

"I don't know," she laughed. "I'll spring it on them one of these days, just to watch their expressions."

"I used to think he'd make a decent cop. But, Jesus; the kid needs more imagination than that to make it in the Department."

Joyce snorted. "You're right, Hop. The Hawkins PD is positively overflowing with imagination."

Hopper worked on his beer for a few minutes, then plucked something out of the pile of clothes, turning it over and over in his hands. Joyce saw, with absolutely no surprise, that it was the same sleeper that Steve had been so smitten with.

"Adorable, isn't it?"

Hopper gave a noncommittal grunt, but instead of returning it to the pile he put it in his lap, peering down at it. "Cute little butterflies," he muttered, almost begrudgingly.

Joyce bit back a grin. "So, how was your day?"

He groaned. "Frank Milton lost another goddamn garden gnome. Fifth one this month."

"Not to question your imagination or anything, Hopper, but have you ever thought of setting up a stakeout?"

He stared at her. "A what now?"

"A stakeout. A gnome stakeout. You already know where the perp strikes, right? So just go get a gnome, a really irresistible fellow, maybe with a little wheelbarrow or something, and park across the street in an unmarked car and wait."

There was a long pause, then "Why the fuck didn't I think of that?" He barked out a self-deprecating laugh and sat back, closing his eyes. But Joyce didn't miss the way his finger kept sneaking out to brush gently over pink fluff.

*****************

Joyce folded the last tiny jumper and closed the cardboard box just as Jonathan came in the door from work. Hopper was fast asleep beside her, head tilted back on the couch, beer bottle empty, mouth open.

She smiled at Jonathan and nodded towards the box on her lap.

"Thanks, Mom," he said softly, taking off his coat. He raised a questioning eyebrow in Hopper's direction as a loud snore reverberated through the room.

"Garden gnomes," she mouthed.

Jonathan rolled his eyes and walked over, bending to take the box from her.

She stopped him, putting her arms around his neck and tugging him down into a hug instead.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?" he whispered as he straightened back up.

"Nothing, baby." She touched his cheek and smiled again. "Nothing."

Instead of taking the box out to the car, Jonathan lingered in front of her, just holding it and looking a little lost. Joyce stood quietly and tugged him into the kitchen so they could talk.

She was smart enough to know exactly what was on Jonathan's mind. She was also smart enough to know that he wouldn't say a thing about it until he was damned good and ready. She lit a cigarette and sat at the table. "Did you eat?"

He nodded. "Did you guys get something?"

"Hop conked out from his exhausting day of policing," she snorted. "I'll throw a sandwich together later."

"Do you want me to make you something? I think we have some hamburger."

"No, honey, I'm fine."

Jonathan set off pacing around the kitchen, hand reaching out to thoughtfully brush over cardboard, opening the refrigerator then immediately closing it without removing anything, more pacing, more cardboard rubbing, stopping at the sink for no reason Joyce could ascertain, then finally back over to stand beside her chair. "Didn't you think that was weird today? With Steve? And the ..." He broke off, nodding down to the box.

"I don't know," she said casually, taking another drag of her cigarette. "Did you think it was weird?"

"Yeah," he laughed, "It was really weird."

"But was it bad weird? Or good weird? Or just weird weird?"

"It was weird, Mom. But ..."

"But?"

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah. You know? But."

She nodded back. "Right. But. Got it."

She smiled and shook her head as he retreated outside with the box.

***********

Two A.M. and Joyce couldn't sleep. She shifted positions for the fiftieth time that night, then bit her lip in thought and finally slipped out of bed, slowly so as not to jostle Hopper.

She walked softly down the hall and listened carefully at Jonathan's door for any signs of movement. Hearing none she peeked in, finding exactly what she expected to find : two tangled up boys, Steve's head snuggled against Jonathan's chest, Jonathan's arm wrapped around Steve's back. She tiptoed in, forcing herself not to stop and cover the two pairs of feet that were sticking out from under the blanket. She bent to the floor and snatched Jonathan's keys from his jeans pocket, holding them so they wouldn't jangle, and hurried back out - but not so fast that she didn't notice the way Jonathan's hand was once again plunged deeply into Steve's hair.

Joyce sprinted out to the car in her sleepshirt, bare feet crunching on the frost-covered grass, popped the trunk, liberated her prize and ran back for the warmth of the house.

She tossed Jonathan's keys onto the kitchen table and went back down the hall, back to her bedroom and Hopper's snores. She opened the bottom dresser drawer, careful to avoid the squeak, and shoved her old, ratty corduroys out of the way to make room for pink butterflies.

[kpopwhore]

Chapter 1: I met you when it was raining

It was raining again and Jimin found himself breathless at the smoking area in front of his university. It was 6PM and he didn’t have an umbrella so he ran all the way out. He was surprised that there was no group of people lounging around.

The sky was grey. The sky was sad. The sky was crying. But although it looked sad, Jimin always loved the rain. It comforted him. He felt at ease when it rains. The soft sound of it pattering on the roof is like a massage for his eardrums. However, as much as he loved the rain, he doesn’t like feeling like a wet puppy whenever it gets him.

He was looking at the road, cars passing him by. People are driving past by him wanting to go home as soon as possible, wanting to get out of the rain as soon as possible. He took out his box of cigarettes and his lighter from his pocket. He placed the cancerous stick in his mouth and lit it and took a drag.

Jimin as a student of film and photography created scenarios in his head and thought about how he will execute it through a film. It was a thing that he always does when he was alone. He would think about how life would look like on a big screen.

The rain started pouring hard. The temperature started getting a little bit colder. It was a good thing that he was wearing a grey sweater that was two-sizes bigger than him. He took his phone and texted his dorm-mate/best friend Taehyung:

It’s pouring out here. I maybe home a bit later. I forgot my umbrella. !Please! don’t cook anything. I’ll bring home pizza. I’ll see you in a bit.

Half a minute after he pressed ‘Send’, his phone went off. Taehyung was calling him.

“Hel—“

“Jiminie~” Taehyung whined through the other line, “I’m hungry~ Can’t you just run back home?”

He sighed. “Tae, haven’t you seen the rain? It’s pouring.” and with this, Taehyung let out another loud, child-like whine.

“But Jim—“ Jimin ended the call. He knows Taehyung too well that if he responded to his whims again and acting the opposite as to what Taehyung wants, it’ll end to a whole week of the other man ignoring him.

His best friend was such a child but he wouldn’t trade him for anything. Him and Taehyung went through so much together. Almost like brothers. Jungkook once asked them why they wouldn’t date each other but he knows all too well that it wasn’t like that and it’ll never be like that… Best friends should just stay best friends.

He tapped the ash away from his cigarette and took a long drag. Nicotine was the only thing that accompanied him as he stood there. As he was scrolling through twitter, he received a message from Taehyung saying that they were almost out of cigarettes and that it was his turn to buy another rim of it.

A good thing about being roommates with Taehyung is that he didn’t have to worry if their dorm room smelled like cigarettes because he too was a smoker. And that’s how they probably met. In the same spot where he was standing now, he met Taehyung in his freshman year. Jimin went to university an hour before his class started and since he didn’t know anyone, he started smoking. He was inhaling cigarettes like it was air when suddenly someone tapped him on the shoulder and asked for a light, he didn’t mind who that was. Probably just someone who forgot their lighter. He looked at the guy and thinking how handsome and ethereal he was. He was way out of Jimin’s league. And when he got to his classroom and sat himself on the far back, someone sat next to him. He turned to see who it was, hoping to make acquaintances during the first day of school, but he realized that it was the cool looking guy that asked for a light.

Taehyung was also studying film and photography like Jimin so they hit it off quickly. After a few months of hanging out, Taehyung asked Jimin if he wanted to be his roommate and of course, the other guy said yes. Who wouldn’t say ‘Yes’ to cheaper rent and hanging out with a friend 24/7?

Jimin was in the middle of his cigarette when someone suddenly came running and that someone stood next to him. The stranger looked irritated by the rain. And this stranger looked attractive as hell. He was wearing a black pullover, black ripped jeans, black shoes (Dr. Martens’ perhaps?) almost looking like he would attend a funeral, but his hair was blond and he was wearing his ID. The stranger was pale but his cheeks were pink because of the cold rain that drenched him.

It looked like this stranger was also from his university but in a different department as him. Maybe in the business department, he didn’t know exactly for sure. His schedule in the university is only during Friday and Saturday. That means he’s either out for photo-walks with Taehyung or he was at his Jin-hyung’s dorm editing a film or a short video that he does just for fun. And maybe that’s why he didn’t notice that there was someone beautiful studying in the same university as him.

The stranger looked at him with deadpan expression while he was reaching for his pocket, taking out a wet pack of cigarettes and lighter. The stranger looked down at his drenched pack and sighed.

Without thinking, Jimin held out his pack of cigarettes towards the stranger with a smile. “You look like you could use one. Here you go.” Jimin said, a smile still plastered on his face.

And without a hesitation, the stranger took one, lit it and inhaled the smoke. While exhaling, he also let out a relieved sigh.

The stranger looked at him again with a shy smile, while giving Jimin his cigarettes and lighter, “My name is Min Yoongi,” the man said.

“My name is Jimin. Park Jimin.” Jimin said as he held out his hand to receive the pack. He got another stick of cigarette because he felt awkward not smoking when he was alone with someone. It was a bad habit and he knew it however it didn’t stop him from doing so.

They smoked in silence up until Yoongi decided to break it, releasing the smoke in his lungs before talking, “Why don’t I see you around so much? I’ve been here for 5 years and this is the first time that I’ve seen you.”

“I’m a third-year film and photography major.” Jimin said as he was putting his cigarette in his mouth again.

“Ahhh,” Yoongi said as he took another drag of smoke, inhaling and exhaling the cancer away. “So that’s why. Compared to business majors, film and photography majors’ schedules are so free. Specially for third years.”

Jimin nodded in agreement as he exhaled. “You know anybody from our department?”

Yoongi nodded as he finished off his cigarette, he crushed the small flame on the ashtray next to him. “I know that kid, Taehyung. You know him?”

Jimin nodded as he took a last drag on his cigarette. He exhaled the smoke before talking, “Yeah. I go on photo-walks with him; he’s also my dorm-mate. How’d you know him?” Jimin asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

“He went to the same high-school back in Daegu. He’s very loud.” Yoongi said as he opened his bag and started looking for something.

Jimin chuckled. “Yeah, he is. But he’s not Tae if he’s not loud. It’s his identifier.”

The other man let out a sigh of frustration. “I left my fucking handkerchief. Goddamn it.” Yoongi said as he finally gave up and just folded his arms.

Jimin took out his handkerchief and held it out for Yoongi, “Here.” He said with a smile. “I didn’t really much use it because the rain wasn’t pouring so hard when I got here, so it’s clean.”

After a few seconds of hesitation and Yoongi just staring at Jimin’s hand, he took it and tried to dry himself off. “This is the second time that you’ve helped me.”

“It’s nothing. Wouldn’t want a busy business major get sick now, do we?” Jimin said

“Well at least let me treat you to coffee when the rain starts to let up, yeah?” Yoongi said with a shy smile.

Jimin wanted to go. He did. It’s been a while since he made a new friend. And this person he wanted to befriend was good-looking as hell but then he remembered Taehyung and how he may or may not burn their dorm down. “Raincheck on that coffee? Taehyung might burn down our dorm room if I don’t feed him in time.”

Yoongi let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, sure. How about next week?” Jimin smiled and nodded. “I’ll meet you here, same time, and same place next week, yeah?”

“Sure, Yoongi-hyung.” Jimin chirped happily.

After a few minutes of hearing Yoongi mutter words of irritation while drying himself, the rain was starting to let up. It was almost an hour since he was standing and waiting for the rain to stop.

“It’s about fucking time.” Yoongi said beside him. Jimin sighed in relief but he also wished that when he comes home, the rain would start again.

Jimin looked back at Yoongi and smiled again, “I better get going. I need to feed my needy child.”

Yoongi nodded. “Okay. Take care, Jimin.”

Jimin started walking away from the smoking area. His thoughts wandering towards Yoongi and how nice he was and how he can’t wait for next week to come.

[superstarfiction]

Superstar ~ Part 1 ~ Chapter 9

Jenn’s Notes:  Dear Readers - Sorry again for the long absence.  Divorce is no fun - as a friend says, he doesn’t wish it on his worst enemy.  That about sums things up.  But, I’m moving along - in the right direction.  I can’t promise when I’ll post again, and I’ll try to read mail - I really do appreciate you guys still hanging on and asking for updates.  It’s nice to be wanted at this time!  Again,   Love to you, my readers!  You have no idea what being on here - writing, posting, corresponding - has meant to me!  XOXO

September 3, 1974

Journal Entry:   Friday, August 30, 1974 - 

Jimmy will be town on Tuesday and I’ve driven myself crazy waiting…no wanting.  It’s want…need…something dark this time.  I can barely eat and sleep, knowing, thinking, about how he’ll be in my bed in a few days.  What have I let happen here?  And then I come home to this box.  Delilah, bless her, sent her oldest over with it.  That boy is so shy, if he only knew what he held in his hands.  Thank God it was unmarked, in plain brown mailing paper.  Inside was a box from Fredericks of Hollywood, and a note…with some very specific instructions I am expected to follow.  I think he must be driving himself crazy too.

Lynn was on the subway, feeling flushed and uncomfortable in her seat.  She had filled in for another nurse, at another clinic in midtown, on the holiday.  This got her square for her needed days off.  Jimmy was due in an hour, coming in from Houston, she thought his telegram said.  He had sent two.  She was so dizzy with anticipation, and the state she had worked herself  into, wasn’t helping her memory.  He was traveling with Bad Company.  Apparently, he’d concoct some story of why he couldn’t stay with them and participate in whatever debauchery they were cooking up on tour.

It was cool and overcast when Lynn got off the train.  As she turned towards her apartment, she caught sight of a black Lincoln across the street from her building.  Probably nothing.  Could be anyone.  A priest.  A cop.  A mobster.

As she approached the walkway, she heard the car door.  She looked and saw him.  He was early.  He was wearing a black patterned shirt, black jeans and sunglasses.  He looked every bit the rock star he was.  However, he wasn’t looking her way.  She nearly called out to him, then realized there were other people on the street. Children playing.  Of course there are, it’s a holiday.

She turned away, her instincts telling her to let him manage the situation. Whether or not he wanted attention or recognition.  She thought not.  She certainly didn’t want to be the one who brought it to him.  

Lost in her thoughts, she nearly fell over Delilah’s younger boy.

“Miss Lynn!  Watch out!” Darrian called to her.

“You better watch yourself, Darrian Michael…is that how you talk to your elders?” Delilah scolded.

“No, Delilah, Darrian’s fine.  I wasn’t watching where I was going.  He saved us both!” Lynn yelped, hugging the boy.  “You off to have fun?” she asked, trying to compose herself.

“Granny Lucy’s, Miss Lynn!  We’re spending the night!  She’s going to watch us on the last day before school starts!” Darrian excitingly told her.

“Well, you have fun, all right?  You too, Desmond.  Dez, you looking forward to junior high?” Lynn asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the shy boy responded.  Delilah sighed, pulling them both along, headed for the station Lynn had just disembarked.

“Lynn, good lord, did you work today?” Delilah asked.

“Yep, but I’m done.  Have a few days off,” Lynn smiled, wondering what the hell had become of Jimmy. He had disappeared from her sight.

“Well, you take it easy.  It’ll be quiet til Wednesday night, with us out of the way,” she smiled.  “I got a few days off, not due back in court until Thursday,” she said. Delilah was a bailiff, who put up with nothing.  Including lip from her two boys, and abuse from her now ex-husband.

Lynn shifted, for the umpteenth time that day, looking at Delilah.  It was like the woman knew.

“Well, thanks, you enjoy your visit,” Lynn smiled.

A chorus of goodbyes echoed on the sidewalk, as they parted company.  Lynn hurried inside, thinking she just needed to get upstairs.  As the elevator doors opened, she was pushed into it from behind, sending a chill up her spine and nearly a scream from her throat.  She turned to see it was him.  

“Fifth floor, right love?” he asked, smiling, pressing “5” and the button to close the doors.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me to death!” Lynn wailed, throwing her arms around him.

“Umm…my girl, happy to see me, yeah?” he asked, grinning, as he held her.

“Of course I am!” she whispered, searching for his mouth.  She connected one sweet kiss, before the bell sounded, and he pulled away.  The doors opened, and no one was in the corridor.  He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall, hurrying to her door.

He turned to her once.  “Have the key?”

“Yep, in my coat pocket,” she smiled, patting it.  They reached her door, and he impatiently waited for the lock to turn.  He allowed her in first, and as he locked the door behind him, she removed her coat.

“Let me open the windows, it’s stuf-”

But the rest of the sentence never left her.  He was all over her.  His lips, his hands, his erection easily seen and felt through his jeans.

He left her breathless, kissing her, then trailing his lips and tongue along her throat until he reached her ear.  She wasn’t sure if it was a result of being overcome by his presence, or if it really did take him an exceedingly long time to reach the very sensitive spot behind her earlobe.  As she moaned, he whispered to her, wanting to know…

“Are you wearing them?” he asked.

“Umm…” she sighed.

“Johanna is that a ‘yes’?” he asked.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“That’s my girl.  To work all day, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, as her hand traveled to his ass and pressed him, harder, against her uniform.

“Oh love, you were such a tease today, but no one knew.  Except me,” he paused, reaching his fingers under her skirt, feeling the lace band of her stockings and her dampness as he approached her core.  “Proper on the outside, a bit naughty underneath.  Did it feel good?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whimpered.  “Jimmy, please…let’s…please…I need to sit down,” she said.

He walked her to the sofa, had her step out of her shoes.  He pulled off her sweater, unzipped her dress, while her back was to him, her eyes closed.  He stepped back as she turned around so he could admire his purchases, and gaze into those chocolate eyes.  He was quite pleased, and he let her sit.

The sun was going down, and the apartment was awash in last faint pink light of the day.  It didn’t matter; Lynn could see nothing but him.  Their eyes locked as he moved, both their mouths open, breathing what little air there was between them.  Still in her lingerie, with her legs around him, Jimmy was buried deep inside her.  Her hands roamed his torso, as they had somehow managed to get him out of his pants.  

He had a tight grip on her hips, her shapely ass, as he lost himself in the feel of her.  So soft, so hot, but so comforting.  He liked that she never second-guessed anything they did.  She just went with wherever he took her…and she always enjoyed the ride.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They sat, side by side.  Perspired, out of breath, with damp hair, and a rather comical state of undress.

“God, look at us,” she smiled.

He had reached his cigarettes and lit one, and it dangled from his lips as his smiled formed.

“You are quite the fine lay, my love,” Jimmy said, taking her hand, entwining their fingers.

“Really?  A fine lay?  Nice.”

“What?  That was meant as a compliment.  Would you prefer me telling you that you’re a good fuck?” he smirked.

She playfully smacked his arm as he quietly chuckled.

“We look like a goddamn hooker and her john,” Lynn quipped.

“A prossie and a what?” he asked.

“Her john.  You know, the guy who’s paying her.  You don’t know that word?” she asked.

He slowly shook his head, smiling at her.  “Why do you think we look like a prossie and John?” he asked.

“A john, her john…you need an article in front of it…oh, nevermind,” she said, as he looked at her more perplexed than before.

“You’ve not answered, love,” he said.

She sighed, waving her hand in rather dramatic fashion over both of them.  “Because of this.  My God, I’m in this ridiculous lingerie, and-”

“You don’t like the lingerie I picked out for you?” he asked, with a pout forming that she wasn’t sure was real or contrived.

“It’s gorgeous, but all white lace?  I feel like a goddamn bride!”

“Yes, like a virgin…” he sighed, closing his eyes, taking a drag from his cigarette.  A slow smile emerged across his features.

“Jesus!  Is that your sick fantasy?” she asked, somewhat taken aback and amused all at once.

He laughed.   “What’s so sick about a beautiful woman in white lace? And why does that make you think you’re a…hooker?”

“Because I know this is your fantasy.  You sent this, had me wear it for you, and I’ve gotten all dressed up for the job!”

“Well, Jo, it was hardly work now was it?” he asked, innocently looking at her.

She wanted to be mad at that, but she couldn’t.  Not with the look he gave her.

“No, hardly,” she said quietly.  “And look at you,” she giggled.

“What?”

“You’re quite the sight,” she smiled.  He looked at her questioning her, wanting her to continue.  She waved her hand over him again.

“Jim, dear, you’re in a shirt-”

“A new shirt and you nearly broke the bloody poppers!” he exclaimed.

“Well, serves you right,” she said, kissing his cheek.  “You look so damn sexy and you’ve made me half out of my head today, wearing this get-up.  On top of just feeling sexy wearing it, I knew you had to be fantasizing about it,” she said.

He smiled, inhaling, nodding.  

Damn him!  He wanted this…and course, he engineered it.  Had me in crotchless panties, thigh-highs and a see-through lace bra all day that just…well, rubbed everything.  

The lace had rubbed her nipples and her folds, as she grew wetter and wetter from the friction and the thought of him…and what he might do to her when he saw her.

“Jo, love? What were you saying about my appearance?” he asked.

She smiled, snapped out of her thoughts by his soft voice.  “Oh, you look like a damn john - you’re wearing your shirt, wide open, and socks.  And nothing else.  Socks and an open shirt, Jimmy.  It’s pretty damn funny,” she chuckled.

He leaned over, cupping her breast through the lace, rubbing her nipple with his thumb.  

“Well, Joey, I couldn’t help it that I didn’t have time to properly undress for you, love.  You were rather greedy for my attention,” he smirked.  “And I hardly think I’m like this john you keep calling me.”

She laughed out loud.  “Really?  And why not?”

He took her hand back, kissing it, before placing his forehead against hers.  

“Because a man who hires a prostitute is generally interested in fucking her or getting head.  I don’t think your john bloke would have gone down on you the way I did…or produced such a satisfying climax for you, darling.  Multiple times, I might add.”

He said all of this with a straight face.  He was dead serious.

“Dear God, that ego,” she said, closing her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief.

“What?  Joey, there are a couple of things in this world, whereby I’m very sure of my abilities.  One, of course, is playing guitar, the other is going down on a wo-”

She punched his arm for that one.  And he let out a bit of a howl.  

“Hey watch that!  These arms are quite important, you know!”

“Do you realize I might not want to hear you gloat?  Or worse yet, think about how many goddamn times you’ve-”

He stopped her with a kiss.  “Jo,” he whispered, finding her eyes, “when I’m with you, I never think about anyone else,” he said.  And it was true.

[babbushka]

Two’s Company (3/5)

1989 and New York City is a mess. Life was shit for all but you and Pale, who found that among the rubble and rubbish, there existed peace and calm and hard hot fucking. That is, until, an unwanted visitor makes themselves known, throwing this happy dream into a tumultuous nightmare.

Pale x Reader ; Chapter 3 of my sequel to Blue Moon!

Word count: 7.3k ; Warnings: Angst, drug mention, minor violence

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

You almost wanted to laugh when you saw her.

Almost.

Not because she’s funny, just because she’s almost exactly how you pictured her. She’s standing at the door, at his door, at your door, in a long brown fur coat, hair teased to high heavens, pearl necklace around her neck and pretty white heels on her feet. She’s standing there smokin’ a Virginia Slims, has it stuck between her two fingers that are manicured and polished with long red acrylics.

She may have moved to Miami, but she was still very much a Jersey woman.

A Jersey woman who, while neither in Jersey or Miami, was standing there, at the door, staring you down.

“That’s right, I’m his fucking wife.” She sneered, shifted her weight back and forth making her hips bob up and down like she’s hot shit. She appraised you, looked down on you up up up in those heels of hers, smoked her cigarette. “And what are you, his whore?”

Well, you thought, Jersey women have nothin’ on the women from Queens.

“Yeah,” You said, stepping around Pale from where you had been holdin’ him back, stepping around him and stepping into her space, crowding her, teeth bared at her, “I am his whore.”

Her eyebrows shot up at that, not expecting you to be proud of it. But how could you not? How could you be anything other than proud of Pale, of your man? You’d shout it off the fire escape for all the city to hear, you didn’t give a shit.

She looks like she’s distraught then, right in that moment, and she barreled further into the apartment, threw herself down onto the couch in the living room. You wanted to scoff because fuck, you’ve never seen someone acting so badly, crocodile tears running mascara down her cheeks.

“God, Jim, did you have to stoop so low? I leave you for what, three years? And you stoop this low.” She wailed and wailed, loud and mighty, accent thick and voice pitched high, “Shacking up with some tramp, how much do you pay her huh? How much does she get for suckin’ your cock?”

And just like that the tears are gone, replaced with the hard stare of a woman scorned.

Your patience had worn out, officially drained at the accusation, the assumption, and you marched over to the living room, yanked her off of your couch by her ankle, sent her crashing to the floor with a sharp, hey!

“Nothin! He gives me nothing! And I don’t ask for anything unlike you!” You shouted, losing it, losing your patience. You had been having such a good fucking day, such a wonderful fucking evening, before she crashed it and ruined it like she did everything else. You had never even met this woman, and she had already ruined everything.

“Unlike you I love this man. I love him more than you ever fucking did, could, or would. I chose him and he chose me and I love him. I don’t go abandonin’ him for three fuckin’ years – do you even hear the words comin’ outta your mouth?” You snapped, all in her face, and she’s standing again, scrambling to not let you have the upper hand.

She jabbed you in the shoulder again and again, antagonizing you, and you only could grit your teeth.

“Oh yeah right you love him, bullshit. Bullshit, how much is he paying you?” She demanded to know, hysterical, absolutely hysterical.

“I’m not a fucking prostitute!” You didn’t know how many times you were going to have to fucking explain it, but you were getting sick of trying. “And you know what, even if I were, I’d have more dignity than you.”

You almost didn’t register it when she slapped you, hard across the face with those nails of hers. All you knew was that you were on the floor, a stinging burning pain already numbing your cheek.

Without a second fucking thought, you swiped her leg, sent her crashing down to the ground, and an all-out brawl began.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had to fight someone, the last you had ever even thought about fighting someone. It had to have been in high school, had to have been years ago. But like most things in life, it all came rushin’ back when you needed it, when you had to put up your fists and defend yourself. And it was defending yourself, but it was more than that – it was defending your man.

Your man, who, was standing stunned for all of one minute before inserting himself into the middle of where the two of you were goin’ after one another.

“Hey get the fuck off of her!” He pried Barbara away from you, grabbed at the back of her neck and hoisted her up like she was some feral cat, “Why are you here – where are the kids?”

“They’re still in Florida you piece of shit, God, how’d I know I’d find you like this?” Barbara was out of breath, panting, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand to smear away some blood from where you had clocked her pretty good.

You were still on the floor, and Pale unceremoniously dropped his seething wife to come to your aid. He crouched down next to you, so tender, hands all over you to check for serious damage. You could feel the sharp sting of scratches from her nails, and your scalp hurt where she had yanked on your hair, but other than that, the most overwhelming thing was the adrenaline thudding thudding thudding in your ears, in your brain.

“You don’t get to fucking call him that, not after what you did to him.” You said, voice hoarse and angry, so angry for him, for Pale.

“What I did?” Barbara scoffed, already reaching into her purse and pulling out a fancy golden compact, checking her appearance.

“Yeah, what you did, you cunt.” You scoffed right back, absolutely fucking incredulous at this woman, at the gall of her, the nerve of her. Pale helped you stand up, and you indelicately re-tied your robe, concealing your body from where the sash had come undone in the scuffle, all the while continuing, “You think I don’t know? You think I didn’t find out about all the shit you did to him, said to him, made him do?”

“Jimmy didn’t do nothin’ he didn’t want to do.” Barbara shook his head and that’s when Pale decided to speak up again.

“That’s a fuckin’ lie and you know it.” And now he’s shouting, now he’s angry angry angry, and you sigh, because fuck all you had wanted for tonight was for him to relax, him to enjoy himself. “What do you want from me, how come you’ve been blowin’ up my fuckin’ phone this whole goddamned time?”

“I thought it’d be obvious you jackass, I’m here to take you back!” Barbara shouted, leaving both you and Pale speechless.

You looked at one another, and then at her, and then back at one another, both of your mouths agape.

“…What?” Pale asked, not even angry, not even yelling, just…so fucking confused.

You were both so confused.

You needed a drink to deal with this, needed something.

Without another word, you left to go into the kitchen, to rummage around for a bottle of whiskey and two clean glasses. Barbara and Pale were still arguing in the living room, but thanks to the new modern open plan design, you were still privy to all of it.

“Yeah, you know. I’m here to bring you back home.” Barbara tried explaining to an only dumbfounded Pale.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He asked, asked seriously, like he was worried she had hit her head too hard when you had knocked her to the ground.

“Pale is home.” You tried getting that through her thick skull, but that only started up the yelling again.

“Pale Pale Pale!” She shouted, yelled, snapped, spit, “That’s not his fucking name, his name is James, Jimmy if you’re friendly – if you’re his wife.” She was close to hysterics again and you were genuinely worried that the cops were gonna get called, that the neighbors were gonna file a noise complaint.

You had half a mind to call the cops yourself, but no, there was too much drug shit out in the open, and that could get the both of yous in trouble. So you poured the drinks instead, handed a shakin’ glass to Pale who downed nearly half the cup in one big gulp.

“Yeah well you ain’t my fuckin’ wife no more Barbie, don’t you get that?” He asked, sat himself down on the couch.

“What are you – ” She started, and he only sighed, sick of yelling.

He motioned for you to come over to him, to sit on his lap, and you did, of course you did. You carried the second glass over and settled right on his knee, sitting sideways and loopin’ your arms around his neck in the way you always did, kissed at his cheek in the way you always did.

You wondered how that looked to Barbara, who stood all by herself, awkwardly on the other side of the room. You hoped she felt uncomfortable, hoped she felt awful, for coming in here and starting this shit.

“Do you see a ring on my fuckin’ finger? Huh?” Pale asked, “Do you see your ugly mug all over the walls, do you see your clothes in my closet? No. I meant what I said down in Miami. I can’t believe you burned my money to fly up here just to piss me off and attack my girl – that’s a real new fuckin’ low for you.”

“Last time I checked I didn’t sign no divorce papers.” Barbara crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a challenging stare, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Because you had to be the biggest fucking cunt you could!” He sounded truly exasperated now, and you let your arm stroke up and down his chest where it too was exposed from the robe starting to fall open, “I begged you to fuckin’ sign them, don’t think I wanted to stick around, I didn’t have a god damned choice, you didn’t give me a choice.”

“So you cheat on me.” Barbara pouted, all sad eyes that you all knew would get her nowhere. Jesus, you thought, what a fucking manipulator, especially when her chin wobbled with false sorrow and she began to cry again, “You don’t cheat on someone you love, Jimmy!”

“Well maybe I don’t fucking love you anymore!” Pale threw up his arms, let them fall back down with a smack on his muscular thighs, “Maybe I don’t love you anymore.”

You wondered just then, in the dark of the living room, if they had ever talked about this. If this was the first time any of this discussion was actually coming to light. The way Barbara’s expression began to change and shift from anger to sadness to confusion said that maybe they hadn’t.

“What?” She asked, quiet in a way that was loud.

You just sat there, on Pale’s lap, watching his hand clench and unclench, watching his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath and gave her a hard stare right back.

“Maybe I haven’t loved you for a real long fuckin’ time.” Pale said, and you could see the way she visibly flinched, could see how those words stung. “How is it cheatin’ on you when I ain’t hear from you for 11 months outta the year, huh? How is it cheatin’ on you when you’re a thousand fucking miles away? You told me, Barbie, you told me.”

“Oh yeah, what’d I tell you?” She asked, defiant.

“’I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of being here – tired of you.’” Pale recited, a line from a letter you had read a year ago.

It hurt you to know that Pale had it memorized. You wondered how many times he had read the letter she left, wondered how many times he had scanned the lines again and again. You wondered how it felt, to come home after working a twenty hour day, and finding your family packed up and gone away.

You never wanted to find out.

“Yeah okay okay, sure, paint me as the bad guy.” Barbara grumbled, lit up a cigarette, and your temper came back, all sympathy for her gone.

“You are the bad guy! Are you delusional? Are you high? Did the flight fuck up your braincells?” You asked.

Pale’s grip on you tightened, which you thought was kinda funny, because it was like him preventing you from lunging at her throat, preventing you from springing off of his lap and tackling her to the ground. You didn’t know what had come over you today, why you were so aggressive.

You were just so annoyed at this woman.

“Did you know?” She asks instead of answering you, not that you really wanted an answer anyway.

“Did I know what?” You shot right back, even though you do, you did.

“That he was married? Did you know.” She clarifies, and you do laugh then.

“Yeah of course I fucking knew.” You said, said it like she was stupid, because really she had to be stupid. “I knew and I didn’t give a shit because I figured he ain’t got a good marriage anyways, if he’s out here fucking me all day and night.” You pointed out, and maybe she didn’t expect that either, because her eyebrows shot up and she turned her attention back to him.

“You fucked her?” She asked Pale, but you didn’t take too nicely to being talked over, talked about like you weren’t even there.

“We were fuckin’ just now, and havin’ a real good god damned time about it too until you came to ruin the mood.” You said, and she looked so confused, as if it were a shock anyone would enjoy sex with Pale.

“Why is it his birthday or something?” She asked, and Pale got up then, shifted you off of his lap and stood up, downed the rest of the whiskey and sighed out real low and long.

“Sixteen years we were together and you don’t even know it’s my birthday.” He said, swirling the last stubborn drop of the drink round and round in the glass before setting it down on the coffee table. He turned away, fully intending on heading back to the bedroom, tired of wanting to deal with this insufferable person anymore. “Why am I not surprised, you selfish bitch.”

He got only a couple steps in, before Barbara lit a new cigarette and blew the smoke out through her nose like some ugly beast and said,

“I wish you had died instead of your queer brother.”

Pale stopped walking then, his legs coming to a screeching halt, like he had been struck by lightning, lost in time and space.

“Get out of my apartment.” You said, turning to face her.

“Your apartment?” She challenged, but you weren’t in the mood to entertain her, not now or ever again.

“Get out!” You snapped, your heart breaking for Pale who was still so quiet, so still, frozen frozen frozen.

He’s still frozen when she finally realizes that she’s unwanted, unwelcome.

When she leaves, she leaves all the tension in the air. It’s so thick you felt like you could cut it with a knife, and that loud silence is back. It’s just you and Pale again, in the penthouse. Just you and him, together and alone at last, and Pale still hasn’t spoken, and that’s more unsettling to you than anything else, because Pale never shuts up.

“Honey, don’t listen to her.” You said softly, taking a careful step around to the front of him, to see how he aches, how his face is pinched with sadness.

There’s wetness in his big brown eyes, a shine that’s reflecting all the lights from the city outside, and when you go to cup his cheek, you can tell he is torn between embracing you and pushing you away.

“She’s right.” He whispers after some time, after deciding to embrace you, after letting you smooth your hand over his cheek, rub small circles there.

“Pale, she isn’t.” Your voice cracks, and then you’ve got tears in your eyes too, because his are sliding down his nose.

How had everything gone to shit in so short of a time? Only moments ago it felt like you were both in paradise, on top of the moon. Now, the world felt dark and grey and the familiar face of grief has reared its ugly head in your man’s chest, has stoked the fire of his mourning, has caused that sick guilt to surface once again.

Pale fell to his knees before you, wrapped his arms around your legs. He let out a long, anguished shout, one that had you gasping, one that had you cradling his head against your stomach, desperately trying to soothe him as those wracking sobs hit him once again.

You’d kill her, you decided, right there in that moment, if she ever showed up again. You’d go to the fancy knife block and kill her, for what she’s done, what she did, what she’s doing.

Pale shudders and shakes beneath your palms, and you want to kill her.

“No, she is. She’s right, it should have – it shoulda been me.” He shoves his face between the soft plush fabric of your robe, shoves it up into your skin, buries his face in your flesh as he hiccups and cries, “I shoulda been the one to kick the fuckin’ bucket, not Robbie, it shouldn’t have been Robbie – ”

He’s wrecked, wrecked from this, and you cursed under your breath because he had been doin’ so good lately, hadn’t been so raw lately.

But now, now it was nothing but raw, grief pure and brutal and angry.

You’re angry for him.

You’re heartbroken for him.

“Come here, come here.” You say, voice soft and gentle. He needs soft, needs gentle. God knows he never got it, never got it when he needed it, from Barbara or anyone else. “Let’s go back to bed, okay? It’s cold out here, you’re going to get cold.”

And you know he doesn’t, won’t, not really. He runs so hot, but still. Something about sadness made people grow cold, and though his skin is sweating and warm, you know inside he’s gotta be feeling the chill of it.

“(Y/N),” He sounds so young then, so young. Not like the nearly-forty that he was, and you only keep trying to coax him up up up into your arms. He finally rises, winds his arms around you, holds you so tight as he cries into your shoulder, “(Y/N) it shoulda been me.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” You assure him, wanting him calm, needing him calm. Calm before he hurts himself somehow, mind flashing back to a year ago when he had stumbled in, drunk and high out of his mind, bleeding all over your floor. You hug him, ground him, soothe him, all the while telling him, “Come on.”

He lets himself be led into the bedroom, and you sigh.

All around the carpeting are scraps and pieces of black lace where only an hour or two prior, he had been so happy, so eager to tear them off of your body, a birthday gift just for him. Now the whole evening was destroyed, and you watced with sad eyes as he collected himself enough to strip off his robe, let it fall to the ground.

He sat naked on the mattress and you watched as it dipped under the sturdy weight of him. He patted his lap but you hesitated only for a moment, deciding he could probably, desperately use a cigarette. So instead of going right to his lap like you normally always would, instead you walked to the night-table where he always kept a few extra packs of Barclays.

You stuck one in between your teeth, holding it just long enough to light it. Only when it was lit did you shuck your robe off too, did you move to where he was waiting for you, did you give it to him and climb into his lap.

“Here.” You said, pressing the cigarette between his own lips, and he eagerly sucked down the nicotine.

“Thank you, thank you – fuck – oh god, fuck.” He said, tears stinging stinging stinging has he smoked and smoked, trying to let the flood in his lungs soothe him from the inside out.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Is all you said, not wanting to push him, but wanting him to know he was safe with you, could let it all out with you.

With his grip on you tight, he moved the two of you backwards so you were lying down, on top of the messed up covers, greyish blusish smoke wafting up into the air.

Pale was crying into your hair, but it was a quiet cry this time, not the shuddering gasping mess he had been only a few minutes before. You in his arms soothed him more than the cigarettes ever did, but you knew they helped, were glad that they helped.

“He didn’t deserve to die,” Pale said, sighed, eyes pinched shut, “It shoulda been me. No one woulda cared if it was me. No one would be surprised, they’d say ‘oh yeah that’s about right’ if they’d heard it was me. Family fuckup, that’s me. Not doin’ nothin’ with my life, failed career failed marriage failed – ”

“That’s not true.” You shook your head, craning your neck up to look at him from where you were curled against his chest, a familiar comforting weight on his body.

“It is! It is.” He insisted, flicked his ash onto the carpeting, “Robbie was gonna be somebody. Anna…Anna said he was good, he was the best. He was gonna be somebody, (Y/N). What am I? How am I better?” He asked, and you frowned.

You didn’t know who Anna was, didn’t know, didn’t care. She didn’t matter, it’d been a year and he’d never mentioned her, so you figured she couldn’t matter much. Robbie mattered -- but Robbie wasn’t Pale’s fault.

“We’re all gonna be somebody. All of us in our own way, doing our own thing. Your career ain’t failed, it’s just gettin’ started. You have so much ahead of you, and you know that. You know it.” You said, and he pinched at your nose, smiled sadly at you. You smiled right back, sighed and with a nasal voice you said, “I would have cared.”

“You wouldn’t have known me.” Pale let out a deep big breath then, and you could feel the tension starting to melt from his shoulders, could see the tears starting to slow.

“I still would have cared.” You insisted, rolling onto your back and tugging him against your chest, letting him settle his head on your breast, letting him smoke and smoke and breathe just how he needs to. You carded your fingers through his hair, lightly scratched against his scalp and licked your lips, wet your dry throat, “I woulda felt something out there, in the great big unknown. I woulda felt it, you goin’. I would’ve cared.”

“C-can you keep talkin’? Please? Fuck, I can’t – please just – please?” Pale whispers, eyes closing, mouth sucking down the last of the cigarette all the way down to the filter.

You nodded, let your own eyes close too.

“You know I heard once, a long time ago, maybe I read it, I dunno; that when a person dies and there’s no one to mourn em, the sadness has nowhere to go. So it wanders around and around, lookin’ for somewhere to live, someone’s chest to be there to feel it. I think the same is true for love, you know? When someone’s got all this love to give and no one to give it to, it wanders too. I think you were wanderin’, your love was searching, and it led you to me. And I’m grateful for that, that I get to house your love, instead of your mournin’. But I would have taken your mournin’ too.”

In your head it was calm and peaceful, all the rage you had felt long gone.

Outside, snow began to fall. Soft flurries that whirled past the window, wind whipped in pretty swirls. You felt like you were in a snowglobe, felt like this penthouse was you and Pale’s own personal world, kept safe and warm and contained, away from the big bad world outside.

Pale was breathin’ against you, gently, softly, but you knew he wasn’t asleep.

“I ain’t got many people, you know? Before you, I had a couple of friends I saw every month or so, a couple regulars at the diner. I got Fish and Chaya but they’re like parents to me, my parents in a suburb a suburb away. I think I had too much love too, and it was wanderin’ too, and there you were, angry and big and crass and willin’ to take it all.”

You continued, let your fingers twist in and around his soft locks, glad that he had washed his hair with you that morning. You loved the way it feathered and fell through your fingers, silky wavy and black as midnight.

You wondered if it was midnight now, if it was later. You couldn’t see the clock, didn’t want to even open your eyes to look.

“You didn’t have to take it all, but you did. You coulda fucked me and been done, a one night stand with a stranger, but you stayed. And you kept comin’ back, and I kept lovin’ you. Right from day fuckin’ one I loved you.” You said, quietly, voice so quiet and yet loud enough that there was no way to miss what you were saying, “I woulda cared.”

You and Pale laid there for a long time, the two of yous just soaking in the feeling of one another.

You wondered if he had been scared, when Barbara showed up. If he had been worried. Maybe he thought that once you saw her, you’d be angry with him, you’d want to leave him. Maybe he thought she’d convince you to leave him, like she had done years and years ago.

You wondered now, if he was relieved, that you hadn’t. That you weren’t planning on going anywhere, nowhere at all. You were his, pure and simple.

It snows outside, and Pale sighs, but this time it’s not so shaky as it had been. This time, it’s more resigned than anything else, as he pinches the cigarette between his fingers.

He gets up off of your chest to stick the butt of it in the ashtray, to squash it down. You take the opportunity to get more comfortable, to get onto the bed properly, instead of having your legs hanging down over the side of the mattress like the had been.

Pale puts out the cigarette and slides under the covers, the two of you facing one another.

“You woulda loved him.” Pale said finally, after a real long time of being quiet. “Robbie, I mean. You two woulda gotten along like two fuckin’ peas in a pod. You both have that light. Some people are real dark, heavy. But not you, not…not Robbie. He was light. You woulda loved him.”

“Where’s he at?” You asked, reaching out a hand for him.

“How’s that?” He frowns just a little, taking it nonetheless, rushing to grasp it in his own hands.

His hands were so much bigger than yours, and you smile a little at the sight of it.

“The cemetery, which one?” You clarified, and he hums, trying to think.

“Jersey City,” He replied after searching through the memories in his brain, “He’s in Jersey City.”

“We should go, one day. One day soon, I think. We should go visit him.” You suggested, and his eyes widen just a little.

“You would go do that? You’d go with me to see him?” He asked, and your heart broke all over again, at the sheer surprise of the question.

“Yeah, I would.” You nodded, squeezing his hand real tight, scooting yourself forward on the bed enough so that you can press your forehead up against his, “I’d do anything for you.”

Pale didn’t say anything to that, just nodded his head up and down real slow, leaned in to kiss you even slower.

His lips felt like the words coolest drink against yours, and you wondered how anyone could be so cruel to him, so heartless. He was tough, yes, rough around the edges, even more so. But underneath all that – and not even very deep underneath – he was just another kicked dog desperate for love.

And as you settle against him, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you, all the aches and pains from the hard fucking all coming rushing to your joints, you decided that no matter how rough around the edges he was, you’d always give him that, that love.

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

You don’t remember falling asleep, but then again, does anyone? You don’t remember waking up either, and that’s always a little strange; that fleeting moment where you’re fighting the day, trying desperately to cling on to whatever little sleep you managed to get.

But the day has won, and sleep has lost this round, and you’re stretching your limbs out and rousing Pale in your wake, as you stick your freezing feet between his legs and he groaned to life.

“What day is it?” He grumbled, making you have to do mental calculations for a minute.

“Sunday?” You said, not entirely sure, but that sounded right.  

“Thank fuck.” Pale huffed, making you chuckle. Sundays were your day to be wholly and completely together, without a care in the world. Monday could be dealt with when it arrived, and all the baggage and bullshit that went with it, but Sundays were special, just for the two of you. Pale reached down and grasped your ankles, making you laugh and laugh as he pried your cold feet from his overly warm skin, asking, “Did yesterday really happen?”

“Yeah.” Your laughs died down a little, “I’m sorry.”

The both of you finally succumbed to being awake fully and completely, getting up out of bed to go walk barefoot and naked to the bathroom. Pale always let you use the toilet first, something of a gentleman. You both brushed your teeth side by side, pinching and poking at one another to make the time go by just a little bit faster, so that you could crawl back into bed together feeling more like humans.

“Why the fuck are you sorry?” Pale asked after spitting out toothpaste and rinsing his mouth, gargling alcohol disguised as mouthwash, blue into the sink.

“Because she ruined your birthday.” You replied, following suit.

“She ruins every birthday.” Pale sighed, before turning to you more fully and groping your tits right there in the bathroom, pinchin’ at your nipples as he let a small smile grace his lips when he asked for a, “Kiss?”

You were glad to see he wasn’t still so fucked up about it, last night had you worried, more worried than you’d been in a long time about him. But he was okay now, looked okay anyway. And you kissed him, with no hesitation, no thinkin’, just love.

He smiled against you more fully, pushed you up onto the bathroom counter. You winced a little as your bare ass hit the cold marble, but that shock only lasted for a moment. Pale was already wriggling his way between your legs, prying your knees open.

Surprisingly though, he didn’t shove his cock right into you like he was wont to do most mornings. No, you knew he’d fuck you later in the warm light of the living room, languid and slow. He wasn’t gentle, but he could be slow.

No, instead of fucking you right there, he instead used the grey morning light to inspect your body. A long time ago in a leaky bathtub you had once joked that a wild animal had mauled you, and you couldn’t help but feel that way now. You were covered in marks and bruises, ones he pressed his thumb into and made you hum out in pleasure-pain.

His hands roved across your skin, searching for something, you didn’t know what. You just watched his face, looked at him. You loved him like this, sleep-rumpled. His hair was a train wreck, and his face a little blotchy and red from the night before, but he was handsome and at peace, at least for the moment, before he started bitching and moaning about whatever it was that was bugging him.

You knew what he’d be bitching about today.

Eventually, he found what he was lookin’ for – scratch marks on your arm from where Barbara had grabbed you and tried to shred you up with her long acrylics. She hadn’t broken the skin or anything, but the lines were puffy and red, and he sighed.

You cupped his cheek, a silent affirmation that you didn’t care, that she wouldn’t scare you off that easily.  

“What are we gonna do about her?” You asked, and that familiar frown came back as he got all aggravated.

It was kind of a funny sight, him standing there naked, hair angry and face angry as he rummaged in the medicine cabinet, looking for a cigarette. You helped him light it, his hands a little shaky from the lack of nicotine in his system.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck she was thinking, coming here. She wants me back? Yeah fucking right, she needs something from me and is going to be a real bitch about getting whatever it is. I just don’t know what that could fuckin’ be, especially since I don’t got none of her shit in the apartment.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“How’d she even find you?” You asked, hopping down from the counter.

“Right?” He asked, shaking his head and smacking your ass lightly as you headed back into the bedroom, plopped yourself down onto the mattress. The clock read eight in the morning, slept in late once again. “It’s not like I told her my address or nothin’. But she’s been calling everyone I know tryin’ to get a god damned hold of me and it’s pissin’ me off.”

“Yeah she called here too.” You said, realizing that the woman who you had thought was the commissioner’s secretary, hadn’t been no secretary after all.

“She did?” Pale’s eyebrows shot up, and he groaned, scrubbed a hand over his face as he crawled back into bed next to you. “She called the diner, Fish thought…”

“What, did he think you were cheatin’ on me?” You grinned, so fond of that old man, of your friend. He was always looking out for you, Fish was.

“Yeah.” Pale said with a big huff and puff, puffing on his cigarette before grabbing your jaw in his hot hot hot hand, palm sweaty against your chin, “You know I’d never do that, right?”

“I know.” You want to nod but he’s holding you in place, crowding into your space, licking into your mouth. “I know. I meant what I said yesterday.”

“Which part?” He asked, voice soft.

It was a wonder, sometimes, how he could be so vulnerable. And then other times, it only made perfect sense.

“All of it.” You replied, kissing and licking right back into his, not minding the taste of Barclays one bit. You hummed against his lips for a long while, kissed and kissed, let yourself get wrapped up in the all-consuming feeling of Pale, before pulling away slightly and asking, “Do you send her money?”

“’Course I do.” Pale said, “She’s got the kids and everything, I can’t let them fall through the cracks.”

“How much do you send her?” You wondered, because you thought, had an inkling, that this is what it was all about.

He had gotten a lot more money recently, from his commission work. He had composed some scores for some big blockbuster movies, and was now in a deal with the Philharmonic, and you knew, you just knew, that she was here to take advantage of that – of him.

“It depends. Like two grand a month, but more for the holidays.” He scratched the back of his neck, and you froze right there in his arms.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, feeling your entire stomach sink. “Pale that’s a lot of money.”

You unwrapped yourself from his arms and sat up in bed, suddenly feeling the huge gap that there was between you and him.

“Yeah well, she got used to a certain lifestyle when we were married, me workin’ my fuckin’ ass off. And I didn’t want her accusing me of desertin’ her with nothin’, so I figured it’d just be easier to send her whatever she needs.” Pale shrugged, like it was nothing, like throwing away two grand was no big deal.

“How much does that leave you with?” You asked. You had never really asked about his finances, because you had figured it was never really any of your business.

You knew he had to be well off, because of the way he dressed and this penthouse and his car, but you had never figured it was this much.

“A little over six a month.” He said real quiet, catching on to why you were beginning to grow quiet.

“Christ.” You said, looking down at your fingernails, picking out something that wasn’t there from underneath them, just because the sudden realization of just how well off he was hit you deep in your chest, “That’s as much as I make in a year.”

Pale stubbed out the cigarette and sat up with you, chased you with his lips. You had never been embarrassed before, about anything. But for some reason, now, now it did.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” Pale said, shuffling to sit cross-legged in front of you, taking your hands in his and holdin’ em real tight as he tried to get you to look at him, “Now do you get why I want to give you nice things? Buy you nice shit?”

“I just…” You sighed, “I ain’t used to any of it, you know? Any of this. I’m comfortable with what I got, what I work for and earn. It’s more than enough for me. I can’t imagine having that kinda money, not in a million years.” You said, because it was true.

“Anything I got is yours now, you gotta know that.” Pale said, said like it was obvious, like it was the understatement of the century, “Any of my shit, my money, anything. It’s yours. I’ve been doing some thinking, and when I kick the bucket I want it all to go to you.”

“Pale I don’t like you talkin’ like that.” You shook your head, not wanting him to spiral, not wanting him to get it in his head that he’s dying any time soon.

“No no, I’m serious. I’m bein’ practical. I’m gonna get it in writing and give it all to you. God willin’, you won’t need it, because I’ll be here to give it to you. But, heaven fuckin’ forbid, if I, I dunno get shot or hit by a truck or somethin’, no one’s gonna fight you for it, it’ll all just be yours.” He said, put his hand on his heart like he was swearin’ to something he didn’t believe in, just for you.

“What about your kids?” You asked, looking at him, really looking at him.

“They got trusts set up, they’ll be fine.” He waved them off, and you bit your lip, casted you gaze out the window, to wherever Barbara was staying, spending the night, spending the day.

You wondered if she had gone right back to the airport, or if she was up running her credit card somewhere in some swanky hotel in Manhattan. You figured it was probably the latter, figured you weren’t done with her yet, not yet.

“What about your wife?” You asked, but Pale only kissed you.

“Who?” He asked, playfully, trying to get some humor back behind your eyes.

“Pale.” You said, trying your best and failing to be serious.

He cast his gaze out the window too, and then looked back at you, really looked back at you, through you, into you in that way he sometimes did when he was high off his ass and too honest.

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m lookin’ at her.” He said, and you sucked in a breath. “Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t ever gettin’ married again, no fuckin’ way. And I ain’t really about having any more kids. I did the whole American nuclear fuckin’ family white picket fence green lawn bullshit, and well. You saw how it all turned out. But you, us, this? This is more than enough for me. You wearin’ my chain and suckin’ my dick and holdin’ me and laughin’ at my jokes – that’s more than I ever got when I was married, you’re more my wife than she ever was.”

You used to think you’d be used to it, these passionate declarations of his, but you never are. You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, and you wondered, wondered how long he had kept that speech locked inside his chest.

Outside the snow falls, but in the snowglobe, you’re safe and warm, warmed from the inside out.

You kiss him, because you can’t resist, can’t prevent it from happening, not that you want to. You kiss him because you’re afraid if you don’t, you’ll cry.

Maybe you cry a little anyway, but who’s there to judge?

He curls his hand against the nape of your neck and breathes into your mouth and you breathe back in the way that you know makes him dizzy dizzy dizzy, and your eyes are shut but still, somehow, you can see him, can see his soft brown eyes and the glint of gold around his neck, the same gold that you wear, that you’ll always wear.

When you pull apart, you’re grinning, because the words have settled deep into your bones and you feel like you’ve accidentally done a bump or two.

“I ain’t gonna force you to do anything you don’t wanna do.” You said softly, whispered against his lips, smiling smiling smiling, “But…you sure you don’t want no more kids?”

Pale huffs out a laugh against your mouth, makes a face, one you can’t really read. But it’s playful, and it’s considerate, in Pale’s own way.

“Maybe one day.” He settles on with a grumble, rolling his eyes when you laugh, but then he’s pinching your nose, your cheek, your ear, smacking a kiss to your lips as he says, “But not today.”

“Good enough for me.” You beam, moment interrupted by the loud grumbling of his stomach, which only makes you smile wider when you asked, “Breakfast?”

And when you looked at him, and he looked back, you knew that you’d be able to get through all this together. You’d figure it out, figured out what Barbara wanted, and then she’d go away, and everything would go back to normal.

But until then, until you had a plan, there really was only one thing to deal with, and Pale knew it just as well as you, and he nodded when he agreed,

“Breakfast.”      

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

Tagging some Pale lovin’ pals! As always, if you’d like to be put on the taglist or taken off of it, just let me know :) 

@fullofbees​​ @spinebarrel​​ @dreamboatdriver​​ @thecurlycaptain​​ @bourbonboredom​​ @driverficarchive​​ @rosalynbair​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​ @adamsnackdriver​​ @glitzescape​​ @adamsnacc-kler​​ @kyloxfem​​ @fallin-for-youreyes @kylo-renne​​ @attorneyl​​ @jedihbic​​ @bens-rose​​ @callmehopeless​​ @formerly-anonhamster​​ @thepilotanon​​ @hippieface​​ @tinyplanet-explorers​​ @satansstrawberry @riseofkylo​ @whiskey-bumblebee​ @helloimindelaware​

[myspookysunshine]

Convergence, pt. 1 : The Show Must Go On

Summary : Summer, 1984. Hawkins, Indiana.Steve and Nancy are breaking up. Jonathan is breaking down. Will is breaking away. Hopper and Joyce are breaking shower curtains. The new girl in town is breaking laws of scientific convention.And there is something waiting on the horizon that threatens to break them all.

Pairings : Jonathan Byers/OFC, Joyce Byers/Jim Hopper, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, probable future Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/OFC.

Rating : NC17

Warnings : Sexual content, oral sex, alternate universe, oc, break up, mention of past murder and violence, language.

A/N : This takes place the summer after the events of season one. Everything in season one is canonical in this story. After that, things diverge. Wildly. (One exception to canon : for the purposes of the story, I've made it so all of the older kids are headed into their senior year of high school. I needed them together, for reasons that will become clear later.) Quick note about OCs - As a rule, I usually avoid them like the plague, and certainly understand that there are many who dislike reading about them. But this one demanded that I played it as it lay. I hope some of you can find it enjoyable even with the addition.There will undoubtedly be more pairings in the future of this, and Eleven will definitely be a factor. I just haven't quite figured out where to work her in yet. 

Inside my heart is breaking My makeup may be flaking but my smile still stays on.

~ Queen

Jonathan glanced over as he drove. Will was quiet and thoughtful in the seat beside him.

Exactly the opposite of what he should be on a day like this.

"So, what are you guys planning to do?"

Will smiled; same old sweet smile, but with a hint of shadow. "Just hang out, I guess."

Jonathan nodded and silence took over again.

Will broke it with a sigh. "I feel bad about Mom, you know? I mean, I want to go, but. It won't be easy for her."

"Mom'll be fine," Jonathan said softly.

They both realized the absurdity of the statement. After all, they both knew what it had taken to get them in this car.

The extended get-together was something the boys had done every summer for years. Three days of going from house to house sleepovers, playing, eating themselves sick. Just being kids. The Byers' home had always been one of the stops. Joyce had welcomed them with smiles and snacks, often joining in the play herself.

Up until this summer.

This summer Joyce had, to put it mildly, flipped her shit. She had refused to let Will take part, refused even to discuss the matter with him.

Jonathan had - surprising even himself - challenged her.

There had been tears (not all of them Joyce's), pleas, and yelling.

Far too much yelling.

Will had retreated to his room, softly closing the door behind him. Music had kicked on and Jonathan had experienced a sick moment of disconnect.

The raised, furious voices were all too familiar, only now his voice had replaced Lonnie's. Jonathan had spent that moment terrified that he was becoming exactly what he had been raging against for most of his life.

He was finally able to convince himself that it was different; he wasn't fighting for himself. He was fighting for Will. Will, who needed to feel, if only for a couple of days, that there wasn't a guillotine hanging over his head.

Joyce had finally given in. Jonathan seriously doubted his arguments had had much to do with it. He suspected, that as scared as she was, the tough, awesome mom part of Joyce Byers had stood up and demanded her little boy back.

She had given in, yes, but she had nearly lost herself in doing it. There had been too many sleepless nights, too many useless doctor's visits, too many memories for it to be any other way.

She had grabbed onto Jonathan as he was heading out the door, hugging him so tightly it hurt, repeating his name like a plea. A few seconds in, her legs had given way and she had sunk to her knees. Jonathan had gone with her, rocking her while she sobbed against his shoulder.

Thank god, Will had already been waiting in the car at that point.

Jonathan had splashed his face with water and made sure Joyce was settled at the kitchen table, cigarette held between jittery fingers, before he tried to leave again.

As he had turned to go, she had reached up and given him one last hug around his waist. Thankfully, that one was something approaching normal. If it had still been that same, desperate clutch, Jonathan probably would have broken down and called everything off himself.

He stopped now in front of the Wheeler's. Will started gathering his stuff.

Jonathan debated running into the house and saying hi to Nancy, but nixed the idea quickly. He was exhausted and out of sorts and had to work in less than thirty minutes. All of these things were true, but, he had to admit, Steve Harrington's car parked right in front of his was the real deciding factor.

Jonathan nodded towards the back seat. "Don't forget your sleeping bag."

Will grabbed it and got out, headed for his three friends waiting in the yard.

"Hey, Will," Jonathan called, then paused.

There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't think of one that wouldn't make him sound like the worried, overprotective dad he pretty much was.

"Have fun."

****

Hopper found Joyce in the bathroom on her hands and knees, violently scrubbing the floor around the base of the toilet.

If she was surprised by his presence in the doorway she showed no sign. She spoke without turning.

"Seriously, is it a guy thing, Hopper? Some macho caveman marking territory bullshit?"

He could tell by those couple of sentences that she was tense, angry and frightened - maybe even more than normal.

Hopper was having a bit of an abnormal reaction himself, looking at her crouched there in her old tattered jeans and button-down mom shirt.

He couldn't begin to explain it, but he was sure as hell having it.

"Well?" she demanded.

"I didn't piss on your floor, Joyce," he said, calmly enough.

Other parts of Hopper were currently anything but calm. He shifted uncomfortably.

It was nothing short of ludicrous, but the yellow rubber cleaning gloves covering her hands were somehow getting to him the most. Freud would have a fucking field day.

"Unzip, aim, pee. How hard can it possibly be?", Joyce snapped.

The mild arousal turned to desire flooding through Hopper, sudden and ferocious enough to make him a little insane with it.

"Hard as a rock."

Real goddamn smooth, Hop. Beautiful.

Joyce finally looked back over her shoulder, perplexed. "Hopper? Are you coming on to me?"

Now came the choice that Hopper had so long struggled with. Either retreat out of an abundance of caution - which was what he had been convincing himself was best for months now - or finally go with his gut.

One more glance at the soft swell of Joyce's backside and Hopper decided caution could go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut.

"What would you say if I was?"

Joyce snorted. "That your timing is ridiculous." She shot him another look and turned back to her task.

"Yeah? Somehow, it doesn't feel so ridiculous."

He moved from the doorway and crouched behind her, running the backs of his hands slowly along her sides. She let out a shaky, need-filled sigh. He then swooped down and closed his teeth on a denim-covered ass cheek.

The scrub brush clattered to the tiles.

Joyce was definitely on board. If she hadn't been, the brush would have sailed for his skull instead.

He nuzzled her neck, unable to keep himself from grinding softly against her, pushing her perilously close to the open toilet.

"Jesus, Hopper, I'm a mess," she protested, but her fingers scrabbled at his hips to encourage the movement.

"If that's the best excuse you have," he grated out "then I'm gonna go ahead and assume this is happening."

He turned her and gently took her hands, placing them on the edge of the bathtub before reclaiming his place behind her. He cupped her still-clothed breasts, tracing his tongue down her spine.

"Can I at least lose the gloves?" Definite arousal, but now also the slightest hint of amusement.

"I'll have to get back to you on that one. That's the sexiest part."

He caressed her for a few more minutes, nibbling at her earlobe, teasing her nipples through the shirt.

He didn't drag it out too long. They'd had enough waiting.

"Rubber?"

"Pill."

"Kids?"

"Out."

Hopper took her bent over the tub.

There was nothing graceful about it; his gun tossed carelessly into a corner, uniform nearly ripped off, rubber gloves flying to land halfway into the hall.

He left his mark on her neck as she reached back to press encouraging bruises into his thighs.

It didn't last long. Both of them were way too pent up for that.

Hopper came hard, on a chest-deep groan. Joyce was almost eerily quiet except for the softest of cries as she fluttered around him.

Catching his breath, Hopper turned her head to look into her eyes. He saw pleasure, and maybe a bit of contentment. But, behind that, there was still the other shit lurking, waiting to bubble back to the surface.

He was determined to see it gone, that haunted, scared look, if only for a few minutes. And if he had to fuck it away, so be it. He had done far worse for far less important reasons.

Joyce seemed to read his intent and her eyes took on the hint of a challenge.

He leaned up and growled into her ear. "You're nowhere near done, are you?"

She took his hand. He reached into the tub with the other and kicked the shower on, then stood and tugged her in.

He watched the spray rain down on her for a moment then dropped to his knees and brought her to his mouth.

He lapped eagerly, tasting her, tasting himself. Finally, finally tasting the mix of them.

And Joyce was silent no more.

She moaned with every swipe of tongue, keened with every light scraping of teeth.

Her hips thrust wildly, shamelessly grinding against Hopper, using his mouth, his chin, even his beard, anything she could to chase her pleasure.

She raised a leg and hooked a foot around his back, trying for an even better angle. He shifted, tugged the other leg, and then he was somehow balancing her full weight on his upper arms and shoulders while she rode his face.

It was hot as all hell, but Hopper honestly had no idea how he wasn't dropping her.

Her cries took on a pleading tone and he reached a hand carefully up, using his thumb to rub firm circles against her clit while his other fingers teased back along her crack.

She began to shake, her thighs clamping around his head. She flailed out blindly, desperate for something to anchor her as she convulsed, and found only the shower curtain.

There was a ripping sound and one of the rings went zinging off, squarely pegging a rubber duck sitting atop the toilet tank and knocking it into the bowl with a splash.

Hopper barked out a laugh even as Joyce was screaming and coming against his tongue.

He lowered her with shaking arms and propped her against the tiles to recover while he plopped gracelessly onto his ass, water beating down on his head.

Joyce lay back, dazed and gasping for air. Hopper reached out and twined his fingers with hers.

"I'm taking you to the carnival tonight and setting you loose on the milk bottles. They won't know what hit 'em."

She kissed him first.

It was the one thing Hopper had avoided, not sure he could take having to share that level of intimacy with shadow worlds and faceless monsters.

He needn't have worried.

The fear was still in Joyce's eyes, but not in her kiss.

The kiss was all for him.

He pulled her to his chest, where she mumbled against his skin.

"God, I need this to be over. I need my kids back. I can't breathe. I can't breathe anymore, Hop."

He closed his eyes and held on.

"Baby, I can't remember the last time I breathed."

**********

There was a bird tweeting merrily in the Wheeler's tree.

Steve Harrington had a - mercifully brief - urge to peg the largest rock he could find in its direction.

Instead, he sighed and got into his car, shutting the door numbly behind him.

He glanced in the rearview.

Same eyes, same nose - hair a tad windblown, but otherwise normal. He had just been through hell; how could none of it show on his face?

Steve had gone into the Wheeler house content and secure in his role as Nancy's boyfriend and had come out a confused and very single man.

He was still trying to process exactly how the fuck it had happened.

He guessed it had started with him handing over the concert ticket, although for the life of him, he couldn't make the connection.

Nancy had stared at it, almost in horror. 'God, Steve, just stop putting all this pressure on me! You're asking too much!'

It was a Stevie Nicks ticket.

Not a subscription to Modern Bride. Not a list of possible baby names.

It was a ticket for The Wild Heart Tour, which Steve had absolutely no desire to attend, (because, seriously) but was prepared to do so without complaint because Nancy would love it.

Or so Steve had stridently thought, right up until about forty-five minutes previously.

He hadn't been hoping for anything, except maybe a smile. What he had gotten was tears and pleas and bullshit.

So much bullshit.

He had loved Nancy a little going into the relationship; he loved her even more now coming out of it.

But somewhere along the way he had lost the will to fight.

What it all came down to, and what Steve couldn't believe he hadn't realized before that very moment, was that he had no hope of competing with the dead. Nancy couldn't forgive him for being there when she had so desperately needed to be somewhere else.

Also, she seemed to be under the impression that Steve was 'subconsciously using her as a buffer against reality'.

The worst part was, Steve couldn't even definitively say she was wrong.

He sighed again, turned the ignition, rolled down the window, let the breeze take the crumpled paper from his hand and floored it.

******

Something had gone seriously fucking wrong with Hawkins, Indiana.

Cory Dakota brought the truck to a stop in the overgrown yard and shut off the ignition, silencing Warren Zevon mid-howl.

She hadn't been here for several years, but she remembered it as a happy, laid-back little town. A quiet place with spindly garden plots and trees and friendly, if slightly nosy, neighbors.

All of that was still there, but there was now something dark beneath the normal.

She closed her eyes, trying to get a better read on it. She caught brief flashes of a strange red sky, children's frightened voices, and a bizarre chattering sound that, even though she couldn't begin to identify it, sent a shiver down her spine.

As always, only a glimpse. Not enough to tell what was going on, but just enough to know she didn't want the full view.

No matter what else Hawkins was, it was now also home.

She turned and glanced out the window behind her. Her entire life took up less than half the bed of a Chevy pickup. Seven or eight tattered boxes, filled with what she could salvage from the house and what she had managed to accumulate at various thrift stores along her rambling journey between Iowa and here.

It was all she owned in the world; that and this place, her grandmother's final gift.

Cory snatched up her pack of Marlboros from the dash and the boombox from the passenger seat. Gran may have been dead for going on two months, but her coffee stores would last well into the next millennium.

The rest could wait.

After a moment of deliberation, Cory also left the shotgun where it was, tucked behind the seat. Gran had been a gentle soul, and would forgive Cory everything else. But bringing a symbol of war into what Doreen Sanders had lovingly dubbed 'Woodstock, With Less Mud' would be tantamount to high treason.

As Cory hopped out of the truck she caught a faint whiff of smoke and wasn't sure if it had permeated into the boxes or was only the ghost of a memory.

The hell of it was, the killer hadn't set the fire.

Instead, it had been courtesy of history's most ironically-timed furnace explosion, some kind of cosmic middle finger, destroying what few clues had been left in his wake.

The police had summoned the full arson squad. They sifted through the debris, backs bent, searching for traces of accelerants.

Cory had known it was pointless, even while running barefoot down the street in her Ramones nightshirt, making a mad dash back to the life that was now nothing but blood and ashes.

In her mind's eye she had seen the shape of him leaving. She had seen the furnace ready to blow. She had seen her parents' abused, smoldering bodies.

As usual, she had seen none of it when it would have made a difference.