#and if her friend did get a full explanation in the car WHAT DO YOU SAY TO THAT

[ruethrills]

Not sure if anyone’s talked about this yet but I’m kinda curious to know how Claire explained to her friend what happened after walking out of the kitchen. Like two minutes ago you were boo’d up, everything was good with chef bae but now you’re snotting in the car…..

As concerned as I would be as the friend, I would also be hella curious because he’s locked in a freezer, right? What could he have possibly done from there for us to be riding home in awkward sniffly silence with the radio off???

[jigeuminunbich]

motive | lee donghyuck (haechan)

synopsis — in which after donghyuck joins jeno on a gym day he finds himself infatuated with his friend’s occasional gym buddy, you.

genre — non-idol!au, fem!reader, comedy, fluff, and strangers to friends to lovers (?)

content — swearing, reader is mentioned to be a gym trainer + nurse tech, also is pretty direct (i won’t her) while hyuck is a loser, a bit more centered on hyuck’s pov than reader’s, jeno is unintentionally playing cupid, hyuck makes one (1) joke about jumping, and featuring jaemin and johnny for like a split second

word count — 4k

playing — motive by ariana grande ft. doja cat

author’s note — ik this is an act of terrorism but: do we all remember hyuck’s gym phase (fact check era)? … yeah. need that. also happy new year omg :D what better way to welcome it than with silly lovestruck hyuck!

i. baby tell me what’s your motive?

“Just five more minutes…”

“Tuh. That’s what you said five minutes ago, c’mon, get up,” Jeno tugs Donghyuck by his ankles, effectively yanking his full-grown roommate from his bed and to land on the ground below him.

“No!” Donghyuck spits, scrambling back to the comfort of his covers before Jeno can stop him.

“You’re the one who asked me to help you get back in the gym, remember?” Jeno sighs exasperatedly, continuing his mission of excavating his stubborn friend from his bed. This time, Donghyuck holds onto his bed’s post to anchor himself.

Donghyuck angles his head to the side as if he’s in thought, “Did I? I don’t seem to recall…”

It was, in fact, his idea. It took a while to break down Jeno’s resolve for the past few weeks and convince him to help him with training with the welcoming of the new year, but it happened. Now, being woken up at dawn just to be surrounded by sweaty bodies was starting to be an idea he regretted having.

Jeno rolls his eyes, “Well I do, now let go.”

“Never!”

“Donghyuck, I’m telling you now if you don’t get up, I will do it myself.”

A habitual snarky snicker ripples through the younger’s chest, “Is that not what you’ve been struggling to do for the past hour?”

Silence hangs in the man’s room as he registers the grave mistake he’s made: making a jab at Jeno. As the seconds tick by like stomach-churning hours, Donghyuck tosses a quick glance backwards to get a grasp of his roommate’s reaction.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Donghyuck pathetically pleads for his life when he meets Jeno’s.

Jeno nods, quietly rolling his shoulders before his bruising grip returns to pull at Donghyuck’s lower half, “Mhm.”

“Wait, agh!”

“Do we really have to do this?”

Jeno inhaled deeply, he wasn’t sure why he thought his friend’s whining would cease once they stepped foot into his usual gym. He thinks back to the many missed opportunities he had at stop lights where he could’ve pushed Donghyuck out the car, but alas it was now a regret he would just have to live with.

“Listen, you don’t have to whatsoever, but I for one will be gladly working out.”

“I—" Donghyuck prepares himself to shoot back at his roommate but his retort fizzles out on his tongue when he catches you in his peripheral sauntering towards him and Jeno.

“Hi, Jeno!” A delicate voice trills, drawing both men’s attention to you.

Jeno’s eyes crease almost on command, a puppy-like smile stretching across his face. “Hey, I didn’t know you trained on Wednesday’s?”

“I don’t usually but I switched shifts with a coworker.” You shrug with your explanation, quickly adjusting your focus to the rigid man that stood beside Jeno.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m ___!” You jut out your glove-clad hand for him to shake.

Donghyuck takes a moment to grasp that you are in fact speaking to him, a winsome smile gracing his features and ridding him of his dazed expression before he meshes his hand with yours to shake. “Hi, Donghyuck, Jeno’s roommate…”

Your grip in the handshake falters to a stop as it dawns on you who exactly has just been introduced to you, “Ah! You’re Donghyuck?”

Said man’s eyebrows jump for a moment, his smirk growing deeper. “So you’ve heard of me?”

“Well, Jeno mentioned in passing that he’d start bringing you around,” you pause as you draw your hand from his grasp to rest both on your hips, giving the comfortably dressed man a quick once over. “And that you might need a little assistance.”

The manner in which you finish your sentence is controlled, expertly hiding your amusement but Jeno does little to shield his humored snickering. Donghyuck’s face falls flat and stoic, immediately shooting Jeno with an intense glare. But it only takes a beat before Donghyuck’s attention returns to you, quickly turning his suave back on.

“Hmm. You’d be the one helping though, right?”

His charm stuns you for a bit, an amused laugh easing from your nostrils, “I would. If I’m available, of course. I tend to train others whenever I’m here,” your thumb gestures backwards towards a middle-aged woman who is stretching across the gym.

Donghyuck peaks around you for a moment, his mouth forming into an ‘o’ shape, “Oh, you’re a trainer?”

“Yep!” you chirp proudly.

“And a nurse.” Jeno chimes, getting an flustered eye roll out of you.

“Nurse tech,” you correct. “I’m in school to be a physical therapist.”

“Wow. And how exactly do you know Jeno here?” Donghyuck furrows his brows, apparently finding it unbelievable that someone like you would be associated with his friend. It’s Jeno’s turn to glare, and you can’t help but giggle at their exchanges.

“Just from around. Embarrassingly he corrected my form when I was working out one day, and we’ve been buddies ever since.” You affirm, gently bumping Jeno’s exposed shoulder with your first.

Wordlessly Jeno nods, supporting your story. Before Donghyuck can probe you any longer, you throw a quick glance over your shoulder.

“Ah, I’ll catch up with you guys later, yeah?” You ask, already walking away from the interaction and back to your client.

“Uh huh.” Donghyuck responds airily, almost as if he’s in a trance. You smile at his antics, delivering a final wave their way before trotting away.

Donghyuck’s eyes linger on you for a moment before dreamily sighing.

“Could you be a little less pathetic?” Jeno grumbles, shaking his head as his friend practically falls over himself over you.

Donghyuck scoffs, completely tuning out Jeno’s insult with his eyes still focused on your figure across the room, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you knew such pretty people here, Jeno?”

“Because that’s not the point, now is it?" Jeno roughly pats Donghyuck's shoulder, hoping it would deter him from staring holes into your toned back.

Surprisingly it manages to work and Donghyuck peels his gaze from you to focus on his friend who begins stretching his muscular limbs, “Pfft. It is now. What other days is she here?”

Jeno stills for a moment, an exaggerated, scandalized look on his face, “There’s absolutely no way I’m giving you that information.”

Donghyuck pouts, “Will she be here tomorrow?”

“Doesn’t matter. We won’t be.”

“And why not?” The whiny tone in Donghyuck's voice would almost be endearing to Jeno if he hadn't been subjected to it for the past decade and a half. Instead, it makes the grown man sigh deeply before continuing his routine.

“It’ll be a recovery day,” Jeno murmurs dismissively.

This makes Donghyuck ponder for a moment before a wicked expression graces his face, “Hmm. So, if we work out today, we'll have to recover tomorrow?”

“Precisely.”

“So, if we don’t work out today, can we come tomorrow?” Donghyuck quirks a mischievous eyebrow.

Jeno huffs, “Precisely…”

“Cool. I’m going home!”

Before Donghyuck can even make progress toward the gym exit, a strong grip is placed on the neckline of his t-shirt. Comically, the grown man is pulled back into the exact same stop he once stood in by his roommate.

“Never mind.” Donghyuck recedes sadly, setting down his sad excuse for a gym bag on the ground.

ii. might have to curve you if you just can’t talk straight

To say Donghyuck was on a mission would be an understatement. Today was nothing like it compared to his first (forced) official gym day. He had woken up with no problems, no Jeno to tug him out of bed. He slipped on his foreign-feeling gym shoes and drove here on his own. Not because he had a sudden desire to fulfill his promise to himself, no. Not because Jeno’s threats finally and genuinely reached his ears, never that. But because of you.

“Oh hey, where’s Jeno?” You come bounding over after several minutes of Donghyuck glancing your way as unsuspectingly as he could muster (spoiler: he did a terrible job).

“Ah, he had a last minute meeting,” Donghyuck waves his hand dismissively in the air. ”I didn’t want to miss out on a chance to get in here,”

You laugh at the way Donghyuck pumps up his obviously flat chest, nodding along despite his antics. “Oh? What are you doing today?”

Donghyuck’s features drop at lightning speed, the cogs turning in his head in real time.

“…uh… I was just gonna… y’know… freestyle a bit. Maybe hit legs—” His slender hands fumble around as he wracks his mind for even a slightly plausible answer to give you.

The giggle you were biting back finally spills past your lips, deciding to end Donghyuck’ suffering, “You have no clue what you’re doing, do you?”

“Absolutely no idea.” He sighs, dropping his head forward shamefully.

You nod, finding the pout on his face incredibly endearing, “Hah. Well, I’m on my own today if you’d like to join me?”

Donghyuck physically perks up at this, his quick change in expression almost sending you spinning. The fond that graces his pink lips leave a ticklish feeling stirring in the base of your stomach, “I’d like that.”

You smirk, forcing yourself to push away the burdensome sensation. “Cool. Fair warning, I’m not gonna take it easy on you just because you’re a friend of a friend.”

A glint that you can only recognize as mischief twinkles in Donghyuck’s deep brown eyes, almost challenging you, “I wouldn’t want you to, anyway.”

Turns out Donghyuck wasn’t much one for a challenge as you had initially thought.

“Ah, god. Okay, are we done yet?” Donghyuck clumsily tumbles out of seat for the hack squat machine. Not even taking into account the state of the floor that meets him when he braces himself on his hands and knees.

You snort, watching as Donghyuck— now a glistening, drenched mess— crawls around under he lands on his back, nursing his water bottle.

“We’re literally on the second exercise.” You remind slowly.

Donghyuck cranes his neck up from the ground, a horrified look on his face, “What? I feel like I’ve been at this for ages.”

“Do you complain this much with Jeno?” You playfully roll your eyes, tossing him a spare towel from your gym bag.

“Yes.” Donghyuck allows the cloth to cover his face, too drained to even attempt to block it.

“Hm. Tapping out on me already?”

“What? No! I— just give me a minute,” Donghyuck desperately shoots up from his position but clearly moves too fast for the rest of his body to process, having to slump to hoisting himself up by his elbows. You laugh at him, though he was obviously not the gym type you did find him to be incredibly entertaining. He peels an eye open at the sound of your laughter, a handsome smile gracing his face.

Trying to shake the flutter in your stomach from the look in his eyes, you flutter your eyes elsewhere in the gym. Just like his humor, it was undeniable that Donghyuck was attractive.

Donghyuck’s tired smirk deepens the more you avoid his pointed gaze-- almost as if he could sense the line of dialogue in your mind you were actively trying to dismiss, “You good?”

You clear your throat, finally forcing your eyes down to meet Donghyuck’s, “Hm? Are you good is the real question?”

It's Donghyuck's turn to be amused by your behavior, huffing out a breathy laugh before managing to sit up fully, “I’m feeling fine now.”

“Oh?" You quirked an eyebrow, stepping out of the way so he could return to the machine behind you. "Ready for your next set?”

Donghyuck basically shudders at the implication that he would have to put his body through that torture again, grimacing up at you, “On second thought, give me another minute.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Why does the gym hurt this bad?” Donghyuck groans, his cries muffled into the plush of his friend’s couch.

“I’m still tryna figure out why you just randomly went?” Jaemin voices confusedly from his kitchen.

Jeno snorts, attention half-heartedly with the assignment he’s supposed to be completing alongside Jaemin. A session that Donghyuck commonly crashes to prevent him from being quote on quote left out, “‘Cause he has a crush.”

For the first time since the man had successfully wobbled his weight onto Jaemin’s couch, his head darted up, “Ah, I just don’t have a crush, Jeno. We’re in love.”

“Did she tell you that?” Jeno peels his eyes in his roommate’s direction.

“Right by the weight rack, actually.” Donghyuck falsely recounts, head now propped by one of his recently overworked arms.

“Sure.”

“Who knew all it took to get you in the gym was an infatuation?” Jaemin strolls back into the living room, placing down the ice bag Donghyuck had incessantly requested upon first arriving on the coffee table.

Jeno scoffs, “I think everyone would have assumed that was all it took but whatever— it makes my life easier.”

“So, Romeo,” Jaemin deliberately plops down on the lower half of Donghyuck’s sore body.

“Ack!” Donghyuck yelps, his pain so severe from his friend's weight that a bright white flash blinds him momentarily.

“When are we seeing the love of your life again?”

Now that he thinks about it, Donghyuck doesn’t know the answer to this question himself (maybe if he had paid more attention to the workout split schedule Jeno had forwarded him— damn), throwing a hopeful (pitiful) look toward Jeno. The recipient sighs, lolling his head to the side in annoyance.

“She doesn’t work out on Sunday’s.”

“Monday it is!”

iii. tell me everything that’s on your mind

“Who the hell is that?”

“I would assume a fellow gym goer?” Jeno says slowly, fumbling around in his gym bag and not paying Donghyuck a slither of his attention.

“But he’s muscular!” Despite the desperate projection in his friend’s voice, Jeno continues to expertly tune him out.

“Very likely in a place like this…” he hums.

Donghyuck huffs, urgently extending his arms out towards the scene unfolding ahead of him, “Jeno, he’s stealing my wife!”

Jeno rolls his eyes, choosing to spare Donghyuck with a look over his shoulder, “What are— oh, that’s just Johnny.”

Donghyuck looks around bewildered like he isn’t the sole person in the gym throwing a fit, “Am I supposed to know who that bulky fuck is?”

“Dude, he’s like her gym dad— everyone’s actually, nothing to be concerned about…” Jeno shakes his head, completely unsympathetic to his friend’s breakdown.

Donghyuck desperately whips his attention back to you, you and Johnny.

Who the hell is above 30 and named Johnny these days, anyway?

“Look at how hard she’s laughing, I’m gonna jump.”

Jeno bites back an encouraging remark, instead choosing peace, “Why don’t you just— I dunno— do something about it—“ Jeno pans his head back to Donghyuck, mouth gaping to advise him further. “And you’re gone.”

Determined, Donghyuck struts over to you and your interaction. But the closer he gets, the more he truly realizes just how badly this guy could kick his ass— arguably worse than Jeno (and that was saying something).

“Stop it— hey! Oh, Johnny you have to meet Donghyuck,” you gesture towards the man, ignoring how he hilariously ogles up at Johnny like a house mouse. “He’s a close friend of Jeno’s!”

“Hey, nice to meet you.” Johnny warmly extends his hand to be shook, and Donghyuck obediently places his obviously smaller one in his.

Through a tight-lipped smile, Donghyuck replies,“Same here.”

You’re positive that if Johnny didn’t get the cue to recede from the interaction that Donghyuck would still be standing here slowly, but surely further subjecting the older man to a prolonged handshake.

“Did you need something, ‘Hyuck?” The foreign sound of his familiar nickname from your mouth leaves air caught in his throat.

Donghyuck shakes his head profusely, scratching the back of his nape as a vice in this cramped situation he’s found himself in, “Uh, no, no. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Oh, okay,” your lips press into a thin line, bordering a frown.

Johnny smacks his teeth, marking his departure from the interaction, “Well, I’ll leave you kids to it!”

You perk up to bid your friend farewell, “See you next week?”

“Unfortunately!” Johnny waves backwards at you both, delivering goodbyes to fellow gym-goers until he’s officially left the building.

“Hey, you okay?” You return your attention to stiff man adjacent of you.

Donghyuck clears his throat, nodding as he stuffs his hand into the pockets of his sweats, “I’m good. I should probably be getting back to Jen’… he starts getting a little impatient—“

“Donghyuck.” You call out for him before he can even gather up the motivation to inch away from you.

His head pops up and toward you like a puppy, “Hm?”

The resemblance you spot— down to his wide, wet brown eyes— forces you to swallow down a laugh, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I like consistency.”

“… I’m lost.” Donghyuck bats a few long blinks your way.

You sigh, shifting on your feet to lean towards him, “Meaning, if you’re gonna put the moves on me one day, I’d rather you not leave me hanging the next… that is your intention, right?”

Donghyuck looks between both of your eyes as he processes what you’ve just said, you almost think he’ll explode if he continues to think so hard.

“Oh… oh. I didn’t know if you were— are you into me?” He adorably fumbles around, it makes the Donghyuck you remember from his first day in the gym seem like a far stranger.

“Hm. Guess I haven’t made it all that obvious either.” You swing your foot coyly.

Donghyuck gulps, “Heh, yeah. Sorry, I did not think I would get this far,” the tail-end of his sentence sounds as if he’s speaking more to himself. Obviously your admittance still settling in for him.

You giggle at Donghyuck’s endearing deer-like expression, “So, do you wanna go out sometime? Somewhere that preferably doesn’t reek of sweat?” You propose, ruffling through your gym bag while Donghyuck follows your every movement intently.

“God yes—” Donghyuck practically melts at the invitation, earning an amused giggle from you. He clears his throat, shuffling to cross his arms and hopefully hide his swelling embarrassment. “I mean, yeah, that’d be great.”

“Cool. I’ll be expecting your call.” You hand him a small card with your number on it. Donghyuck accepts the card as if he were to hold it too tightly, it’ll shatter into pieces.

“See you around?” You effectively draw his attention back to you before he can trace his eyes over your contact information once more.

Donghyuck nods before he can control it, “You can count on it.” He affirms.

“Good.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, sashaying past Donghyuck with a coquettish wave. Just like you had grown used to, he tracks your every movement until you’ve finally left the gym, daydreamingly sighing to himself before his sweet reverie is interrupted by Jeno’s disgruntled face entering his line of vision.

“Genuinely how?”

“I could teach you a thing or two if you want, Jeno. Lucky for you we’re close enough so it’d come at a discounted price— ouf!”

Jeno tosses a deft kettlebell into Donghyuck’s hold which leads him to crumble forward like a ragdoll, “Play nice before I sick Johnny on you.”

© jigueminunbich 2025

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 11.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: the events of ch 11 in jk's pov

☆word count: 1.2k

☆a/n: this one made me sad :( hope you guys like it! I've purposefully not put the full explanation bc it hits better later in the story sooo sorry about that. also just a note that depression sucks and I hope none of you guys have to deal with it and, if you do, please know that you aren't alone <3

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook is annoyed. He’s been annoyed all day, and he really just wants to go home.

To go home to you.

“What’s got you sulking?” Jimin asks, and four pairs of eyes shoot towards Jungkook.

Indeed, they are at the restaurant for lunch, Gabrielle having joined them to eat on her lunch break from her internship. 

“Nothing,” Jungkook says, grabbing his glass of water and taking a long sip.

Taehyung frowns, yet remains silent. It’s been happening a lot frequently, and Jungkook has truly, really been annoyed by it.

“Missing OC?” Jimin teases, wiggling his eyebrows and earning a punch in the shoulder by Sera.

“Shut up,” she says as Jungkook clenches his jaw.

“Will you please fucking stop with that?” Jungkook lets out, unable to keep his ire from his voice.

Jimin’s gaze widens, and then he laughs. “Why are you getting so worked up?”

“Maybe because you’ve been a little shit about this the whole week?”

“You’re aware it’s making it seem like it’s true…”

“Stop, Jimin,” Sera intervenes, her tone stern and authoritative.

The only tone Jimin ever listens to. Indeed, Jimin stops, pouting, and he mumbles an apology. Jungkook ignores it, his gaze shifting to Taehyung, and he doesn’t miss the muscle feathering under Taehyung’s skin as he clenches his jaw.

“What?” Jungkook spits, unable to help himself.

“You fucking my sister?”

Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh, his heart clenching in his chest. “Nope. You guys need to fucking leave me alone is all.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. This time, it’s Ariane’s turn to talk, and she does so with a pointed glare at Taehyung.

“I thought we said yesterday that we weren’t going to talk about her anymore.”

They did. Because scenes like this one have been happening the whole trip, and Jungkook really just wants to go home. The thought sticks around all day, up until they’ve had their shares of drink back at the Air Bnb, not feeling like going out.

Maybe Jungkook’s foul mood has been contributing to everyone’s lack of enthusiasm about going out, but he wouldn’t complain. He’d much rather stay at the Air Bnb, where he doesn’t have to avoid girls coming up to him trying to flirt.

Except Gabrielle. Though it’s not like that with Gabrielle, and he knows she’s a safe space. As much as someone can be without knowing about you - he reckons his only true safe space is you.

Perhaps that’s why he ends up sitting in his room with Gabrielle while the others chill in the living room. Partly to catch up, but also mostly to laugh at the absurdity of their parents wanting them to marry, as if they ever would.

“They’re crazy,” Gabrielle repeats for the hundredth time. “Complètement fou.”

Jungkook nods. “It’s nothing new. They’ve been like that since high school.”

Gabrielle chuckles, turning her head towards Jungkook. “Is your dad still an asshole?”

Jungkook winces, because he feels like his father has only been getting worse and worse with time, finding new ways to put Jungkook through hell all the time. Though the ignoring has been better than the fights and the constant insults he’d used to receive when he was younger, if he’s being honest.

“Yup. You really think someone like him could change for the better?”

Gabrielle slightly shakes her head. “Nah. People like our parents will die as shitty as they were the day they were born.”

Jungkook likes to think that his parents weren’t always like this. That, perhaps they were just corrupted by money growing up. But then again he can’t reconcile the image of his parents being kind to the one that he knows, that he’s known all his life.

So instead, he raises his beer. “Cheers to that.”

There’s a silence as Gabrielle drinks from the wine bottle she carried to the bedroom when they left the rest of the group back in the living room. Jungkook’s thoughts trail to you, and he wonders what you’re up to right now. You mentioned you were going out with your friends - are you already with them, or are you at home thinking about him like he’s thinking about you, too?

“What’s going on with Taehyung’s sister?” Gabrielle asks out of the blue.

Jungkook freezes like a deer in headlights. And though he wishes to say everything, to tell Gabrielle about what he feels for you, he knows he can’t. Not as long as you haven’t said it’s okay to talk about it.

And not when Gabrielle would likely tell Ariane, and Ariane would then tell Taehyung.

“Not you too,” Jungkook grumbles, and he hopes Gabrielle can’t spy the blush slowly dusting his cheeks, up to the tip of his ears.

“I’m just wondering!” Gabrielle says, and she lets out a small laugh before pushing a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve seen pictures, I feel like she would be your type.”

Jungkook makes a noncommittal sound as he shrugs his shoulders.

“So?” Gabrielle presses.

“So what?”

She rolls her eyes, laughing again. “Is something going on between you and her?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, preparing himself to lie to the one person that he’s never had to lie to before. “No.”

Gabrielle remains silent, the weight of her gaze on his profile heavy, and then she sighs. “Then, can I ask for your help?”

He stiffens. “What for?”

He knows what to expect - it’s the same as back when they were in high school, and she’d needed his help more than once then. Though he’d used not to mind, this time he hates it. So much so that he gets up, heading towards the door.

“Please,” Gabrielle says, stopping him with a hand on his wrist. “S’il-te-plait, Jungkook.”

“No,” he reaffirms, turning to face her. He thinks of you, thinks of the last time he kissed you, and wishes he was with you right now. “I can’t do this again.”

“Just this once,” she insists. “And then I will never ever ask that of you again.”

He thinks of the years. He thinks of Gabrielle defending him when his father insulted him during a dinner, or that time at the charity. He thinks about every night they’d fallen asleep in the same bed dreaming about a day where they wouldn’t have to worry about their family’s influence anymore. He’d thought she’d be okay now, independent as she was, but it seems she hasn’t escaped the pressure of her family yet, much like him.

“Gaby, I really can’t…” he trails off, scanning her features, hoping that she’ll understand, that she’ll know you are in his life and would never do something like that to you.

“Please,” Gaby says, her gaze begging.

He hates himself. He always has, more than he’d ever care to admit, but Jungkook hates himself too much for what he says next.

“Just this once.”

It’s like the universe was planning for this to happen anyway. Indeed, there’s laughter behind the door, and Gabrielle immediately grabs his face, pulling him down into a kiss. Jungkook closes his eyes, tells himself that you’ll understand, that he won’t lose you. 

When Gabrielle pulls away, looking just as uncomfortable as him, Jungkook whispers, “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

It’s easy, after, to pretend that the tears in his eyes are caused by Gabrielle. Even as Taehyung claps him on the shoulder as if to congratulate him, Jungkook doesn’t have to hide how much he aches from the inside out.

Gabrielle leaves, and Jungkook goes to bed right away, wishing to be able to skip time until he can see you again.

Until he can prove to himself that he hasn’t lost you.

Read chapter eleven here!

☆☆☆☆☆

:((((( i hate myself for hurting the babies so much.. please come scream at me

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[girlgenius1111]

we will never go back

final chapter of the great war:)

ona x reader? alessia x reader? who knows.

"Less?" You asked, dumbfounded.

"Hi." She responded, looking so unsure, so broken that you weren't quite sure what to do. All you knew was that you couldn't stand it when Alessia looked like that, no matter what had happened. Your brain was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out why Alessia was at your front door.

"Alessia... what are you doing here?"

"I- I really need to talk to you lov- y/n." Less flinched at the slip up, hoping you'd missed it. You hadn't. You felt like you were being torn in two- the part of you that loved Alessia, that would probably always love her, wanted to hear her out. The other part, the hurt part, was screaming at you to slam the door in her face. You'd always been weak when it came to her; you should have told her to go home. That would have probably been the healthy choice.

Someone cleared their throat behind you. It sounded like Mapi, but you remembered exactly who was sitting in your living room. Ona. Until this very moment, you could have sworn you were over Alessia, truly. Now, though, you stood in the doorway, physically stuck in between two people that you were suddenly sure you loved.

You forced yourself to turn, to look into Ona's warm eyes. They were blinking at you, terrified. The second you looked at Ona, it was clear what you needed to do. There wasn't a choice. How could there be?

"Let me get my keys. We can go for a drive." You said, turning back to the blonde. Relief washed over her face, and she nodded. "Just give me a sec?"

You unlocked the car, and Less headed over to it, as you briefly shut the door, turning back to the room full of your completely stunned friends. Ona was sitting on the couch next to Alexia, who was staring at you like she might hit you. Mapi's face looked similar, and you wished that this was not happening in front of them.

You walked to Ona, briskly, leaning down and grabbing her face in between your hands. She looked startled, but you pressed your lips to hers, intending to leave her with no doubt in her mind of what you were leaving to do. You only pulled back slightly when you broke the kiss, looking intently into her eyes.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

'Okay," she responded breathlessly. Mapi wolf whistled as you walked back towards the front door, and you paused just long enough to flip her off. You weren't quite sure what to expect walking opening the door and sliding into the drivers seat. Alessia didn't look like herself, and you could see her hands shaking in her lap. Starting the car, you turned to her, giving her a reassuring smile.

"It's just me, Less. Relax." With that, you pulled back out of the parking space, driving off into the foggy night air.

-----

You decided to let Alessia talk first; there was clearly a lot on her mind. So, even as the silence killed you, you allowed it to fill the car. It was suffocating, and you only felt relief when you pulled the car into a spot by the beach, overlooking the ocean.

"I'm so, so sorry." Alessia started. Her voice was already choked up, and she wiped roughly at her eyes. "Fuck, I said I wasn't going to cry."

Wordlessly, you handed her a tissue from the center console. She tried her eyes, taking a shuddery breath, before turning back to you.

"I can't express how sorry I am for what I did. There is no excuse, y/n. I know that. I just... I think you deserve an explanation. If you want one." The blonde looked at you hopefully. You nodded for her to proceed.

"I wasn't doing well. Moving to Arsenal, to London was so much harder than I expected. It's incredible and I love the team and the girls, it was just... change. And it was really hard. I was having a really hard time. Especially coming back from losing the world cup final, I was really just a complete mess. And you were here, in Barcelona, and you seemed like you were doing well. Really well, honestly. I didn't want to bother you with my problems. I should have just talked to you, but I didn't."

Alessia took a sip of water, her hands still shaking as she held the bottle. You'd never seen her look so nervous before.

"I missed you. I missed being with you and getting to spend those months together in Australia got me so used to just having you nearby. And then you weren't, and I was so lonely. I know that I could have called you, I know. Instead, I got really drunk. And went home with this random girl. I don't know why I did it, y/n. I just- I remember feeling so empty, so completely alone. I asked her to come back with me. I think about that sentence leaving my mouth every day, and I wish I could take it back."

Alessia is crying now, tears falling freely down her face. You're crying to, but not for the reason Alessia thinks. Seeing her in such pain, even now, felt like getting stabbed.

"I woke up the next morning, and I was so completely horrified with myself. I couldn't believe what I'd done. It wasn't fair of me. You are so good, y/n, you were always so good to me. Even now, when I have no right to ask you to listen, you listen anyway, and you hand me tissues, and I just. I never deserved you. And you deserved better than what I gave you. I'll be sorry for the rest of my life."

You watched her cry into her hands for a minute, and searched within yourself for the hurt that had lodged itself directly in your heart when Alessia had told you what she'd done, all those months ago. You couldn't find it. It was gone, you realized. Replaced with the feeling of falling in love. It was like snow melting, flower buds sprouting from the ground; the emergence of spring from winter. You knew you'd survived the worst of it, and you felt peace. Hope.

"I forgive you, Alessia." You said the words quietly, resting a hand on her shoulder. Her head snapped up to stare at you, eyes red and puffy, mouth gaping open.

"What?" She asked incredulously.

"I forgive you. I know you. I know your heart. You're a good person." Alessia shook her head at this, looking miserable. "No, Less, you are a good person. One mistake doesn't change that. What you did... obviously it really hurt me. I knew that you wouldn't ever do what you did if you weren't really in a dark place. The past months I've been hurt, and angry, yes. I'm not anymore. All I feel now- I just want you to be okay."

"How can you say that I'm a good person?" Alessia asked, her voice cracking over the last word.

"Because you are. I forgive you, Alessia. You need to forgive yourself."

"I don't know if I can."

"Look what you did today. You came here, flew to Barcelona on your one weekend off, to apologize to me. That is something that a bad person wouldn't bother with. The feeling of guilt inside of you, Less, that's what makes you good. And I'm sure it's suffocating. You don't need to hold it over yourself anymore. I'm okay, Less. You don't need to feel guilty anymore."

At this, Alessia broke completely, caving in on herself as sobs racked her body. You leaned across the center console, pulling her into you as best you could. She cried for a while, letting out sounds that sounded like she was breaking. You knew this was healing, though. Sometimes, you need to fall apart all the way, or you'll never get put back together correctly.

After a couple minutes, she pulled away, wiping at her face once again. Her touch was more gentle, though. You hoped it was an unconscious sign that she was forgiving herself. The blonde turned to look at you. Her blue eyes were watery, her blonde hair slighly mussed from where it had been pressed against your sweatshirt. She looked beautiful, something you knew objectively.

Looking into her eyes, you didn't feel anything romantic for her. The urge to kiss her, to wipe her tears gently off her face, to cradle her in your arms, wasn't there. You loved her, but not in the way you had before. You wanted Alessia to heal, to stay your friend. At that moment, though, all you wanted to was to go home to Ona. Your Ona.

"Do you think, if I hadn't done what I did, we could have lasted?"

"No." You said gently, despite the harshness of your answer. "I don't think we were meant to be, Less. We weren't working before you slept with her." You noticed the way she slumped at that, just a little, and you knew that her motivations for coming to Spain weren't completely innocent.

"You're going to find someone who makes you feel like you're on fire, Alessia. Like your whole being is just completely filled with love for them. You'll know when you do. And you'll deserve all of the love they'll give you."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about." She commented, smiling softly at you in the way she always did when she joked. It was a relief, to see her look happy.

"I do." You told her, a matching grin tugging at your lips.

"Ona?" She asked, taking you by surprise.

"How did you know?" You questioned, eyebrows raising comically high on your forehead.

"They streamed your match on the plane and I watched you turn into the Hulk when that girl touched her. I didn't know if you were together, but I figured you would be, at some point." Alessia admitted.

"I'm sorry, Less. I know that isn't what you wanted to hear."

Alessia shook her head. "No, you're right. We weren't working. We wouldn't have worked. It was comfortable, and safe, but it wouldn't have worked. I had to try, though."

Alessia paused, eyes searching yours. "Ona is good for you. A good match. She's always kind. She'll remind you to be kind to yourself. You forget, sometimes."

"Thank you, Lessi."

You exchanged smiles, then, the first that were completely unweighted, completely genuine. You were glad Alessia had come, that you could have this conversation with her. Your body longed for Ona, though, your arms desperate to wrap her in a hug, squash any lingering anxiety she was feeling.

-----

You pulled back into your driveway, alone. You'd dropped Alessia at Keira and Lucy's instructing her to rest there, before flying back to London. You knew they'd take good care of her, and you had other priorities. You noticed as you walked into the house, that Alexia's car was gone, which was odd.

You continued on, slipping in through the door, sliding your shoes off, and turning to the living room. Only Ingrid and Mapi sat in there; Mapi with an expression of extreme guilt on her face. Ona was gone, as was Alexia.

"Where is she?" You asked frantically, eyes searching the room like you were going to find your girlfriend hidden behind a couch cushion.

"She left. A little after you did. I don't really know, she just asked Alexia to take her home, and we tried to talk to her, but she just kept saying she wanted to go home."

"Why, why didn't you stop her?"

"We tried, but..."

"But what, León?" You shouted. Ingrid looked between the two of you nervously, but stayed silent.

"I- I asked Ona if she thought you were going to get back together with Alessia. I guess, after you kissed her, she wasn't nervous, but then I asked, and she realized it could have been a goodbye kiss or something, and she just freaked out."

You stood frozen, body trembling with anger. Mapi stood, moving closer to you. "Amiga, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to-" she began.

You lurched forward, hands connected with her chest as you shoved her backwards. She simply let you, not raising a single hand in her own defense. Ingrid stood from the couch, moving to get in between the two of you, but Mapi shook her head at her girlfriend.

"Mapi what the fuck? Why would you say that to her?" You were yelling now, right in your teammate's face. She looked distraught; you knew how much she cared for you, and for Ona. She was probably just trying to prepare her, be a good friend. You didn't care about any of that now. You shoved her once more, ignoring Ingrid's hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you away from her girlfriend.

You whipped around, charging towards the door, but Ingrid was faster, ripping your keys out of your hand. You rounded on her, but her calm expression made you pause.

"Breathe. I'll drive you. You're in no state to get behind the wheel. Come on." Ingrid said reasonably. You looked down at your trembling hands, feeling the unsteadiness in your legs, and realized she was right. You agreed, and Ingrid led you out the door towards her car. After a minute, you heard the front door shut, and saw Mapi standing awkwardly on the porch. You felt a pang of guilt for how you'd acted.

"Get in." You called, as you threw yourself into the passenger seat. Mapi practically bounded towards the car, eyes wide as she slid into the backseat.

"Amiga,"

"We'll talk about it later." Mapi fell silent, as did you. The car remained uneasily quiet as you drove to Ona's place. You called her, more than once, and got no answer. You were flying out of the car the minute Ingrid pulled up, racing towards your girlfriend's door. You probably should have knocked, but you couldn't stand another minute without Ona knowing, being completely sure, that you loved her. You wanted her.

You threw open the door, and marched inside. Alexia and Ona were frozen on the couch. Ona was practically collapsed into Alexia's arms, tears streaming down her face, as Alexia looked helplessly at you. if you had to take a wild guess, it would be that Alexia was trying to convince Ona that you weren't going to break up with her and take Alessia back, and that it wasn't working very well.

"Oni," you said softly, feeling an indescribable pain ripple through you at the sigh of tears on her face. You closed the gap between the two of you, taking Ale's spot on the couch. She moved towards the door, stopping when she was next to Mapi and Ingrid, who were watching on. You wanted to tell them to fuck off, and go somewhere else, but your attention was completely focused on Ona's agonized face in front of yours.

"Oni, baby," you whispered, tilting her chin up, and forcing her to make eye contact with you. You couldn't help but lean in, lightly kissing her cheek. She pushed you away, though, moving far away from you on the couch.

"No, stop. Stop kissing me when you are going to break up with me," she cried.

"I am not breaking up with you, Ona. Not today, not ever. Come here, please." You begged. Tentatively, Ona moved back over, until she was just close enough for you to grip her hand in yours. "Oni, I love you. I spoke with Alessia for closure, for both of us. I was not ever, ever going to get back together with her. I love Alessia, as a friend. What I feel for her, what I felt for her, does not compare to what I feel for you. Ona, you are it for me. It's been a few months, and I know that already. You are the only one I want."

Ona blinked at you, bottom lip trembling. "You are not getting back together with her?" She asked, almost in disbelief.

"No."

"You- you are not.. going to..." Ona stumbled over her words, her deep voice so unsure, so vulnerable.

"The only place I'm going, Ona, is wherever you go. I love you." You figured if you said it enough times, it would have to sink in. Evidently, you were right, because Ona surged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around you as she cried into your neck. "I've got you, my love. I'm yours." You whispered.

"Te amo más que a nada," the brunette responded, words a warm exhale on your neck. They were just for you, not for the girls watching from the doorway, where Ingrid was discreetly trying to wipe a tear away. Your skin was wet with her tears, and she clung to you so tightly it almost hurt. You didn't care. If this was what she needed, you'd stay here forever.

-----

It was hours later, both of you curled up in Ona's bed, when you asked Ona something that had been on your mind.

"Why did you think I would get back with her?" You asked, the words mumbled into her hair.

"When I saw you guys together in Manchester, you seemed so happy. I just thought you would want that again, if you could have it."

"I am one hundred times happier now than I was then, Oni. I've never been as happy as I am when I'm with you."

"That is what Alexia said. And Ingrid. And Mapi, but she was following up on her question of whether I thought you were going to take Alessia back, so I did not really believe her." Ona laughed.

You chuckled. "I almost hit her when she told me what she said."

Ona turned her head on your chest to look up at you. "Two in one day? What stopped you?"

"I knew she was just trying to look out for you." You replied, not meeting Ona's eyes.

"I mean, she was. But I do not believe you. You were scared of Ingrid, yes?"

You threw your head back on the pillow sighing loudly. "Fine! She was mad at Mapi too, but she never would have let me punching her girlfriend go unpunished." You both laughed. Ingrid could be stern, and scary, but the thought of her retaliating was comical.

Your phone rang, then, and you picked it up, seeing Alexia's name and contact picture on your screen. You rolled your eyes. "They're obsessed with us. Cannot leave us along."

"Always have to be in our business, hearing our sickening love confessions," Ona agreed, smirking at you.

You picked up anyway. "Hola, Ale."

"Have you seen twitter?" She asked.

"No. Do you even have twitter, Capi?"

"No, Olga does. You fighting with that girl who fouled Ona is everywhere. You two are the new rumor. It's everywhere, I don't know how you missed it."

"We've been busy." Ona called, and you stifled a laugh as Alexia made retching noise over the phone.

"No! Por favor, no. You are my children, seeing you kiss is bad enough, I do not need to hear this." Alexia complained.

You and Ona cracked up. "Thanks for calling and telling us, Ale."

"Of course. I'll see you guys tomorrow for recovery."

"We'll try to make it, we might still be busy." You teased, seeing Ona blush next to you.

"NO! Basta! I do not want to hear this. You will be at recovery on time, and if I see one mark on either of you, I will throw up."

You laughed your way through goodbyes, before hanging up and opening twitter. Your timeline was covered in different videos and angles of you losing it on the girl that had tackled Ona. People had, clearly, figured out what was going on.

"I feel bad for the Luna stans." You said.

"I feel bad for the ones that think I am in a throuple with Keira and Lucy." Ona replied.

You pulled Ona back on top to straddle you, pressing your lips to hers in a sweet kiss. "Everyone knows now. Any regrets?"

"None. You look hot with a black eye, anyway. You should get them more often."

"Keep calling me hot, and I'll punch myself in the face every morning." Ona dropped her head on your chest, laughing into your skin.

"I love you." She said, leaning up to press her forehead to yours. The mood wasn't joking anymore, it was suddenly intimate, emotional.

"I love you too. Más que nada." You whispered against her lips.

"Más que nada." Ona agreed.

More than anything; anything and anyone that could get in the way. You loved Ona more than all of it.

-----

fin :)

hope the ending was what everyone was hoping for!

[chiacanwritesometimes]

the three times you tried, and the one time it worked. (part 2)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: this is unedited, so there might be some grammatical errors. this fic dives into themes of pregnancy, miscarriage, and alcohol. please please please do not interact if these themes bother, trigger, or make you uncomfortable. all information regarding my statistics have been sourced from mayo clinic, nhs.uk and cleveland clinic. please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can update this with the most accurate information! if you have gone through something like this or similar, please reach out to support groups or hotlines. i will link some down on the notes as soon as i can!

eek! one part left! i have enjoyed writing this so far, and i might do a “what they’re up to now” when im done with this series. i hope you enjoy reading it :P

===========

it was hard on him as well. how do you go from being thrown seventy years into the future, from meeting the love of your life, to losing a baby with her?

her screams haunted him, almost as much as…

he tried not to think about it too much. he promised her he was starting a new life with and for her, although she encouraged him to talk about the past to better understand him and to help him work out the trauma.

he spent most of his days in the office, filling out paperwork. he called time off from work, but you got well enough to the point where he could return without fear of you hurting yourself. most nights were spent holding each other, with either one of you or both of you crying.

80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester. it’s not that you weren’t fertile, but what you both didn’t account for was how his super soldier genes would affect everything, having the baby develop faster than it’s little body could handle. it was eight centimeters long, contrast to the common five centimeters. he blamed himself for it, but you assured that through no fault of his, it happened. you didn’t want to grow to resent him, as you knew deep down it truly wasn’t his fault. you buried yourself in statistics to find loops and explanations as to why, why you, why this, just…why. for women under 30, 1 in 10 pregnancies end in miscarriage. around 10-20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. you became depressed, finding yourself as another statistic to write down, another number in a chart. he caught on to what you were doing, but didn’t know how to handle it. he mostly just held you, and whispered words of comfort into your ear.

“why did it have to be us?” you whispered softly, one night, as he spooned you.

he paused for a moment. “i don’t know.”

“if only i-“. he cut you off. “stop. you know it wasn’t your fault. we’ll try again when you’re ready, okay?”

you went out with your friends one day, a small reward you gave yourself for being so strong. you felt bad for leaving him home, but he assured you that he would be productive.

you really didn’t drink. that’s what you kept telling yourself as you ordered, and kept ordering. you really didn’t, you just didn’t know what came over you. maybe it was the fact that the drinks were cheap, or the company was good. or maybe it was the five month anniversary. you tried not to think about it much, as you didn’t want to depress your friends. your sorrows were washed away, and for the first time in a while, you felt whole. soon, you were drunk. not tipsy, but full on, shit faced drunk. your giddy smile convinced your friends to call him, and it wasn’t long before he was there to pick you up. he scooped you up with ease, and chuckled at your exaggerated affection towards him.

“you’re drunk.” he teased, as he sat you down in the passenger seat.

“and you’re not.” you teased back. he closed the door and walked over to the drivers seat. he sat down and took a deep breath. he didn’t start the car just yet, he was just looking at you.

“well i can’t get drunk, you know that. plus, im driving. wouldn’t be responsible.”

“and you’re known for always following the rules, yes yes.” you said in a mock serious tone, making him snort.

“low blow.” he responded, as he turned the key to the ignition. the hum of the engine proved to be a good melody lulling you to sleep, and your head bobbed as you tried your hardest to stay awake. his hand was on your thigh, and his thumb traced circles. it proved wonders, and you quickly fell asleep. the car ride was fifteen minutes long, and your eyes fluttered open as your body recognized the turns to your home. you stretched your arms, muscles sore from all the dancing you did with your friends. he was humming a song, one you tried to recognize.

the music started, and was i the perplexed one?

he stopped the car, and walked to your side, opening the door.

i held my breath and said, may i have the next one?

his soft voice made your ears turn red. he helped you out of the car, and scooped you bridal style. you giggled. he walked to the front door, and you unlocked it. he gently placed you down as you both entered, and he continued.

in my frightened arms-

you smiled. “polka dots and moon beams.” you said. you recognized the song, and as you took your shoes off, he beamed at you. he nodded and continued.

polka dots and moon beams, sparkled on a pug nosed dream.

he whistled the improvisation of the trombone, and took your hands as he led you down the hall to the dining room. there, a candle lit table with two plates.

“i had this planned, but i didn’t want you to not go out with your friends.” he admitted sheepishly. you gasped and smiled.

“this is so sweet.” you were slowly sobering up. your clothes felt heavy on you, and you suggested putting on pajamas. he agreed, and the both of you walked upstairs as you talked about the events of the night. he listened intently, and sat down on the bathroom counter as you took a quick shower. the warm air made your baby hairs cling to your skin, and the mirror foggy. you finished, and grabbed the nearest towel and covered yourself. you walked out of the shower, shivering slightly from the temperature difference. you walked over to where he sat, and smiled at him.

“hi.” you said softly, soaking in the intimate moment.

“hi.” he replied, equally as gentle. he cupped your jaw, and planted a small kiss on your lips. he leaned his forehead on yours, and closed his eyes.

“you smell good. new shampoo?”

you nodded.

“you’re welcome to try it.” you smiled, running your damp hand through his hair. he grabbed your wrist, and starting placing small kisses on your knuckles, your palm, your fingers.

“you’re so pretty.” he said as he sat up from the counter and towered above you. you grinned.

“you really think so?”

he nodded.

“oh yeah. everyone at work is so jealous of me.” he boasted as you snorted.

“oh, i’m sure.” you chuckled as he took your hand and twirled you and pulled you in, embracing you. he pulled you in a long kiss, holding the back of your neck and your waist. he sat you down on the counter and one thing led to another and…

you kept replaying those moments as you stared at the two lines on the second pregnancy test. you felt dread, but also joy? it was a mix of emotions. you felt scared, what if it happened again? 80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester, you kept telling yourself. you just had to survive the first 12 weeks, and you’ll be fine.

you knocked on the doorway to his office, which was a huge step for you. you hadn’t entered that room since the incident. he looked up from his book.

“what’s up, birdie?” birdie. a nickname he used after catching you singing along to one of your favorite records, and one he used sparingly. that nicknamed grounded you, and gave you the strength to fess up.

you held up the test, and said nothing.

“two lines?” he asked, with a tone you could almost register as nervousness with a twinge of fear.

you nodded. he stood up to embrace you, laughing.

“two lines!” he kept repeating, kissing your neck. this made you ease up, and soon, you were laughing as well.

“okay, okay! we have to be prepared this time.” you stated. “but also, we can’t get our hopes too up, what if-“. you stopped laughing. you cleared your throat.

“no matter what happens, we’ll…be fine, right?”

he nodded. “we’ll be fine. for better or worse, remember?”

“pinky promise?” your request broke his heart. he set you down and extended his own pinky finger, hooking it with yours. he took your hand and kissed it.

“i’m yours, through it all.” he said, smiling.

you two had decided to take a small vacation, to get your mind off things. you refused any food that could possibly hurt the growth of the fetus, and tried your hardest to stay optimistic. you steered clear of baby clothes until after the first twelve weeks were over. how betrayed you would soon feel.

as you were three weeks in, you felt strange. similar to the way it felt the first time, but you thought it was just morning sickness or something.

you both had travelled to maine, to watch the ocean. you decided that fresh air was what you both needed. not only was the salt air fresh, but it was cold, very cold. you had taken a midnight stroll with him on the sand, and went to bed at three in the morning.

you woke up with pain, similar to the pain you would feel with period cramps. you sat up and googled “miscarriage symptoms” with shaky hands. this couldnt happen again. how could this happen again? your stirring caused him to wake up, and he saw what was on your phone. his heart dropped as he made eye contact with you. your face was pale, your eyes filled with grief.

“james?” you said, cautiously. his eyes sank. you only called him by that name when things were extremely serious.

“yes, my love?”

80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester.

…

part 2/3. update tmr!

[indigosunsetao3]

Chapter 6

Friends and intrigue

AO3 (Full list of tags/warnings. Please check them.) Masterlist 4.4k Words

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

“How long have you planned this?” Celeste asked from the couch after she had been sufficiently stuffed with homemade baked ziti.

“Few weeks,” Alice answered as she nudged the fruity mixed drink she had made toward Celeste. “Thought I almost spoiled it on our last call.”

Celeste thought back briefly to the call, and an innocuous comment about airports being busy at this time of year had gone right over her head. She hadn’t truly been locked in on a conversation in a long while, so to her it wasn’t a surprise she missed it.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just flat out tell me,” Celeste answered after a second, taking a sip of the drink that was about three times too strong. “When was the last time you managed to keep a secret?”

“I can keep secrets!” Alice answered indigently as she downed the last dregs of her drink and headed to the fridge to get more from the pitcher. “Just…not that well from you.”

“My point,” Celeste responded as she curled her feet up on the couch. “Now I’m beginning to doubt your sincerity that you didn’t call William back when he asked for his third chance…” she grinned around her glass at the offhanded note.   

“Rude!” Alice snapped from the doorway as she pointed with the hand that held her glass. “And I didn’t call William back because I don’t think Shaun would appreciate that,” she tacked on with a laugh as Celeste looked at her wide eyed. “Hang on, this calls for cookies.” Alice disappeared into the kitchen again.

It seemed that while Celeste was at work, Alice had swept in and did exactly what Alice had always done; take care of her. The house had been picked up, the layer of dust and tumbleweeds of cat hair that would have made Celeste squirm with embarrassment had anyone else seen it were gone. The ring marks all over the glass coffee table from drinks wiped away, and much to Celeste’s protests her pantry and fridge were pretty well stocked again. Not to mention, laundry that had just been piles of dirty versus clean was sorted, and the machine was currently running. Of the pair Alice was certainly the neat freak, though Celeste usually didn’t let the house get so far behind. It was hard to find motivation when it was just her and nothing else.

“Shaun is a very cute courier that comes into the lab to drop packages,” Alice explained as she dropped back down in the armchair across from the couch. “Walked me to my car when it was pouring and…maybe we made a pitstop to the back of his van.” She smirked as she shoved a cookie in her mouth at the end of her explanation and tried not to laugh at the look Celeste gave her.

“The back of a van! Alice!” Celeste admonished with a laugh, a real laugh, as her friend laughed along with her.

“It’s roomier than the back of a car!” Alice answered as if that were an obvious reason. “All above clothes, he has to take me to dinner before he gets any of this,” she explained with a wave of her hand over her body. When Celeste raised an eyebrow at her she huffed, “fine. Any of this in person.”

“There it is,” Celeste laughed. “Let’s see then,” she paused as Alice smirked. “Him! Not you. I’ve seen enough of your dirty pictures to last me a lifetime.”

 “Someone has to make sure I get my good side,” Alice answered as she dug out her phone and came over to the couch to show Celeste the pictures. “See? Cute.” She stated as Celeste scrolled.

“I mean, I guess,” Celeste answered with a tilt of her head before swiping and finding a picture that very much was not Shaun. “Why do you have a picture of my neighbor?”

“Ah,” Alice said before snatching the phone back. “He may have caught me breaking into your house…then helped” she admitted with a small wince. “Your key was missing,” she started to explain.

“He broke into my house?” Celeste asked suddenly sitting up a bit straighter.

“Under my supervision,” Alice tacked on. As if Alice could do absolutely anything to Simon besides annoy him. “Hence the picture. So if I was murdered there was evidence.”

 “I need better locks,” Celeste muttered as she looked at Alice.

“Funny, that’s what he said,” Alice answered with a smirk. “What’s up with that anyway? He didn’t talk a whole lot, just hovered while I worked.”

“How long was he in here for?” Celeste was certain she was going to die from embarrassment at this point.

“Just…a bit. I needed help with a few things, and since he wouldn’t leave, I put him to work,” Alice paused as Celeste let out a sigh. “I didn’t let him see your underthings! I’m a better friend than that,” and when Celeste cut her a look she finished. “He just brought my stuff in for me, asked a few questions…and helped me reach the areas I couldn’t to dust.”

“You coerced the gigantic masked guy to help you…dust,” Celeste inquired, “you know what? That doesn’t shock me nearly as much as it should.”

“I’m persuasive, or annoying, whatever works,” Alice answered with a shrug. “Since I feel like I’ve surprised you enough, I’ll give your nerves a rest this evening. But we’re going to talk about all those unpacked boxes I found and the den before I leave in a few days.”

“Do we have too?” Celeste asked, and when Alice gave her a firm nod, she sighed.

“Now, back to Shaun and how I accidentally sent William a message meant for him,” Alice continued as if the conversation hadn’t just turned dark for a moment.  “Well…I told William it was an accident anyway.”

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

“Slick,” Johnny said into the kitchen as Simon tossed dishes into the dishwasher.  

“It’s not hard when people aren’t paranoid,” Simon answered as he stood up and looked at Johnny and Kyle sitting at the island staring at him. He told them everything that had transpired between him and Alice while they ate; he was going to make sure they had something besides prepackaged meals so help him. “I could have probably tricked her into giving me her number,” he tacked on with a smirk.

“Could just be your charm,” Johnny teased as he hipped Simon out of the way to finish cleaning up. “You’re irresistible, especially when you creep up on people and scare the shit out of them.”

“Worked on you,” Simon replied as Kyle chuckled. “I wouldn’t laugh,” he added as Kyle pressed his lips together, “because you are no better.” And when Kyle held his hands up in mock surrender Simon rubbed the back of his neck, rolling it a few times.

Alice had kept him working for longer than he would have liked to admit. He disguised it as to keep an eye on her because she could still be up to no good. In reality, he had caught on quickly that she really was Celeste’s friend, and all she really had been up to was his nerves. Hanging around had been a good enough excuse to snoop through Celeste’s house, though anytime he spent too long lingering somewhere, Alice would crop up to stare at him. Neither truly trusted the other, which was fine.

“So what else?” Kyle asked as he lounged on the couch, leaning into Johnny’s raised arm on the back of it as he flipped channels on their limited television.

“What else what?” Simon replied as he sat down hard into the armchair, the furniture creaking ominously under his bulk.

“I know you didn’t just dust,” Kyle said as Johnny settled on some grainy movie, tossing the clicker onto the coffee table. “What did you find?”

“Aside from the fact her house feels like an empty museum?” Simon replied as he ran a hand over his face. “Nothing. Nothing weird or…well, really anything. Just a house that feels half unfinished, a few leaky pipes, and shit security.”

“John can fix the pipes, he loves doing that shite,” Johnny replied as Kyle leaned further on him, feeling the other man’s shoulders tense at the mention of Price. John had been gone with radio silence for four days. “So, in other words your dismal apartment,” Johnny finished.

“Piss off,” Simon said.

“Have you been able to figure out what happened?” Johnny asked Kyle after a second, pulling him from the spiral of thoughts he had just gone down. He had done his best to avoid John all day and he managed to undo his hard work in just seconds.

“Once you got the name off the dart board it wasn’t too hard,” Kyle answered. He had taken what he learned about Celeste through conversation, tax records on the property, and some googling to find just what had happened. “Tomorrow is one year since the accident.”

Celeste had been married almost a decade; they had been together almost fifteen years total when her husband was killed in a car wreck.  It had been a freak accident, late at night in a rainstorm. The articles Kyle had found had been unremarkable without much detail. Just there was no alcohol or anything of the like involved and he had been the only person that died.

“Explains the friend,” Johnny answered as he dropped his hand to wrap around Kyle’s upper arm to tug him a bit closer. Death was a companion they all walked with on the daily, but he knew John not being there and having zero word from the man was eating Kyle. So talking about a sudden death was certainly not going to help his nerves. “Hopefully she’ll be able to keep Celeste from stumbling off that dock for a few days so we can get a break from babysitting.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Simon answered. “Both of them will end up in the water if they drink that fruit disaster Alice made,” he explained. “It’s a straight mix of three different types of alcohol and a dash of fruit to make it somewhat drinkable.”

“Not everyone likes scotch and whiskey,” Kyle interjected. “A little sweet never hurt anyone.”

“Disgusting,” Simon replied before he stretched back in his chair for the makeshift bar to grab three glasses with his fingers and then the bottle of Scotch, as if reminded. He didn’t bother to ask if the other two wanted one. It had turned into a bit of a nightly routine to have a drink after dinner and a smoke if John was there, though Simon just joined for the company, never smoking himself.

Kyle leaned forward and grabbed his and Johnny’s glasses, handing the man his over his head as he settled back in more comfortably. He had known what today was, that Johnny was keeping him busy as well as keeping him company. He didn’t hate it, though. It was nice to spend time with him again. Not that he didn’t want Simon around, but one on one time made things a little different. It made Johnny more entuned to him instead of splitting his attention a bit unevenly.

“I’m going to make sure they don’t decide to go on a little adventure,” Simon stated. An excuse, a poor one, to give Johnny and Kyle some alone time. “And make sure that cat isn’t hanging around.” It was an empty annoyance; he enjoyed the little creature.

“He’s only hanging around because you feed him!” Johnny called as Simon disappeared out the backdoor onto the deck.

When silence fell over the living room, Johnny and Kyle turned their attention back to the movie. It had been one they had both seen plenty of times but it was a nice excuse to tangle up on the couch. Kyle had, for the most part, avoided seeking out attention or affection from Johnny when John was around. It wasn’t because John didn’t know, it wasn’t a secret, but more for the fact to show John that Kyle was interested. Would refrain from another’s touch if that meant he would finally accept and welcome his own feelings.

Simon, of course, knew. Had allowed Kyle into his and Johnny’s bed without question in the past. Seeing as Johnny and Kyle had been together long before Simon finally figured his own issues out. He wasn’t a man that needed Johnny to himself and while the two of them certainly had their own gravitational pull, Simon seemed to enjoy some solitude now and again.

“There,” Johnny stated after a while, “how they missed seeing that in editing when it’s so obvious,” he bemoaned as the scene in the movie continued.

“You point that out every time we watch,” Kyle answered as he leaned forward to set down his empty glass, plucking Johnny’s out of his hand to set it down as well.

“Someone has to point out the mistakes,” Johnny answered as he looked at Kyle, who was still half leaning forward on his elbows, looking as if he might get up. “Better than Simon telling us the ending of the movie only ten minutes in.”

“It’s a neat little party trick,” Kyle countered. “I don’t know how he enjoys movies or reading, though, if he knows the ending before he gets there.”

“He likes being right, that’s his reward,” Johnny answered before he reached out and pulled Kyle back, not letting him escape to the seclusion of his room as he shifted to rise from the couch. “No running off tonight,” he stated as he nuzzled his face up to Kyle’s neck, “just us here. Stay with me.”

“You? Or you and Simon?” Kyle asked quietly as he inhaled sharply and shut his eyes as Johnny’s lips ghosted over his ear.

“Me,” Johnny said, his teeth nipping at the skin. “Simon went outside for a reason; his little party trick extends further than just fiction. Unless of course you want Simon.” There was no jealousy or hesitation, a simple offer to fulfill whatever Kyle needed.

“Just you,” Kyle breathed as Johnny’s hands slipped around his waist under his shirt to splay on his stomach. “For now, just…us.”

“Just us,” Johnny agreed as Kyle twisted in his arms to kiss him properly. It wasn’t a chaste one, it was needy and hungry. Johnny knew the sentiment well. Kyle wanted to get lost a bit in the feeling, block out the other hurt, and just let go, and Johnny was more than willing to oblige.

Simon had grabbed the discarded book he had left on the kitchen counter on his way out and was propped up in a chair reading. It was almost completely dark outside, and the replaced patio light was attracting a few of the early season bugs. As he flipped another page, half paying attention to what he was reading, he heard a door swing open.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mumbled as he looked up and saw two figures appear out of Celeste’s backdoor. As he predicted they had enjoyed the drink that barely passed for punch, both of them laughing loudly and stumbling about. Though the screams of laughter as one of them took an almost nose dive into a rose plant were a bit obnoxious, Simon smiled to himself. He hadn’t heard Celeste properly laugh in any of his time around or watching her. She gave courteous ones at her job, forced ones at not so funny jokes, but nothing real like this.

He watched as they headed to the dock, and he shifted, debating on getting up or staying put when one of them waved. It was hard to make out who it was in the semi darkness but then the voice that trilled ‘hello’ over to him he knew it was Alice. All these weeks he had managed to avoid Celeste knowing he was there, or at least caring, and now she had pointed him like a beacon. He grumbled and didn’t return the wave, which only caused the woman to stop in her step, hands on her hips, before giving him an over exaggerated wave while Celeste attempted to stop her. Failing miserably.

“I can see you!” Alice said in a singsong voice. “You are bad at being sneaky!”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Simon muttered more to himself before he held up his book to show what he was doing. “Go pester someone else!” He called back, this time loud enough for them to hear.

“You-you go pester someone--, ouch Celeste!” Alice attempted to taunt back, stumbling over her words before Celeste finally yanked her further down the dock.

Laying the book in his lap he watched them make their way down the dock, eyes trained on each of their steps to make sure they didn’t stray too close to the edge. He was fully prepared to have to go save one of them if they slipped but just thinking about how cold the water was made him shiver. It would sober them up at least. Though Celeste deserved to be a bit numb this evening, and tomorrow for that matter.

When they made it to the edge of the dock they both sat with their feet dangling off the edge. The water was still too low for their feet to be submerged, and now that they were safely still, Simon dared to turn his attention back to his own place. Eyes darting to the window in the kitchen door he squinted a bit against the light of the porch to see inside. He couldn’t see much, the living room swallowed by darkness save for the television, but he did catch a quick glimpse of Kyle before diverting his gaze. They had opted to be alone, which was fine, so he wasn’t going to pry.

“Tha’s it, fuck,” Johnny groaned as Kyle shifted in his lap to grind down on him.

Kyle slipped his hands to the back of Johnny’s neck and laced his fingers before pressing his forehead against his. The couch was not the most comfortable thing in the world, the cushions lumpy under his knees as he rode Johnny. But he didn’t care. He was chasing the high that he had denied himself for so long. And for what? For what end? To be alone.

“Get out of that head,” Johnny groaned out as one hand gripped Kyle’s side, fighting off his own release until Kyle had some sort of fill. Despite the hot and heavy kissing that had resulted in clothes being ripped off and tossed in desperation, he could still tell what Kyle was thinking about. Because he had been in the same spot not that long ago, pining after Simon. And it was Kyle that had been there for him to keep him from the precipice. “Be here with me.”

“Sorry,” Kyle sighed, more in pleasure than apology.

Capturing Johnny’s lips, he kissed him properly, disconnecting his mind from everything else except the man in front of him. Digging his fingers into the back of his neck he pressed even harder against Johnny’s chest, seeking more skin contact. His breath was starting to come out in huffs as each roll of his hips caused him to pump his cock into Johnny’s other hand that had moved between them.

Johnny adjusted his footing on the floor and used his leverage to meet every downward roll of Kyles's hips with an upward snap of his. He had missed being with him, missed hearing the soft whine he’d fight to keep quiet. How he’d eventually get so lost in his own pleasure, he would give up being quiet and use Johnny’s mouth to muffle the sound instead. Stealing his breath with his sharp inhales as Johnny hit that perfect spot. But most of all he just missed Kyle in general. Missed tugging him close when he wanted, stealing moments alone and just enjoying his friend’s company uninhibited.

“Johnny,” Kyle breathed as the man tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth. He knew they were both close and as Johnny snapped his eyes open to meet his, it was Kyle’s undoing. Those crushing blue irises that were heavy with lust and need for him sent him over the edge. He fought to keep their gazes locked as Johnny pumped him, letting him come all over his stomach.

The slickness between them seemed to only spurn the two of them on and Johnny used both hands to bounce Kyle faster. His own release followed soon after and as he arched up, fighting to fill Kyle as deep as he could. Kyle gasped a bit at the fullness before he cupped Johnny’s face to kiss him. It wasn’t as frantic as before, not as needy and feral, but softer as Johnny fell apart under him.

“We made a mess,” Johnny laughed as Kyle adjusted to slowly pull off him once he settled but didn’t go far as he collapsed forward on his chest. “Your shirt is half covering the television,” he mused as he looked at the glow of the light from behind the blue material.

“I think your pants ended up halfway to the kitchen,” Kyle answered without looking as he kissed Johnny’s collarbone and neck softly.

“Simon’s going to take the piss if he finds it like this,” Johnny stated as he arched his head back to see if he could see through the kitchen to the back patio. He could barely make anything out, but he thought he caught Simon shifting in his seat.

“We can let him in from the cold,” Kyle joked as he rolled off Johnny’s lap onto the couch.

“He tells me constantly I need a playmate to keep me occupied. I’m sure he enjoys a few minutes of silence,” Johnny answered as he grabbed his own shirt and wiped at his chest and stomach before gently leaning over to wipe up the trail of spend on Kyle.

“I’m all yours tonight,” Johnny added as he leaned over and kissed him once, twice, three times before rising from the couch to find the rest of their clothes. “Let’s go clean up,” he stated, flicking his eyes to the ceiling to indicate for them to go upstairs.

“Or a few minutes of spying on the neighbor,” Kyle joked since that had honestly been what all of them had been doing for a while now. They could disguise it as looking after or just keeping an eye, but they were definitely spying.

“He thinks if he stares hard enough his mental will can stop her from doing something dangerous. Like falling in the water or taking her arm off with the ancient mower,” Johnny joked as he grabbed Kyle’s hand to drag him upstairs. “Doesn’t work though. I do stupid shit all the time, and he’s always staring at me.”

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

“He’s too creepy,” Alice stated as she looked back at the house where Simon was sitting on the back porch. She had to duck a bit to see him through the tree branches, but she could make his figure out under the light. “He’s just staring at us,” she said.

“He’s not staring,” Celeste answered quietly as she grabbed Alice to force her to turn around. “You’re staring. He’s just sitting on his back patio, it’s not illegal.”

“Mmm…I think he likes you,” Alice slurred a bit as she turned to stare back at him again. “He’s awfully curious about you.”

“I think he’s more interested in you. You wrangled him into cleaning, who does that for a complete stranger?” Celeste asked, pushing away the thought of anyone being interested in her. She wasn’t ready for any of that. At all. And especially on the eve of what was coming tomorrow. “If you keep looking, he’s going to come over here.”

“Maybe he should,” Alice said, her thoughts obviously scattered since a moment ago she remarked how creepy he was. "You need more friends here. I don’t like you alone all the time.”

“If you do not sit down right now,” Celeste warned as she grabbed Alice’s waist and swung her dangerously toward the edge of the dock to get her back down. “I will toss you in.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Alice laughed as she sat down a bit hard so the dock rocked a bit. “Fine, I won’t introduce him to drunk Alice. Yet.”

“No one needs that,” Celeste joked, but as she looked back between the trees, she noticed Simon had moved. He was no longer sitting in the light but standing up and looking like he was almost to the stairs of their deck.

He had been staring at them. And had been concerned enough at their small wrestling match and raised voices that he was about to come over to check on them. The thought sent a squirm of a feeling that was so long dormant in Celeste she actually gasped in surprise.

Celeste quickly turned her attention to Alice, who had switched topics four times in her drunken ramblings, her words coming out at lightning speed. Celeste had missed most of them, too caught up in the guilt that ate at her for even entertaining the fleeting curiosity about Simon. But when Alice began undoing her lopsided bun, Celeste figured out that she was asking her to plait her hair. Something about not wanting to get sick in her hair when she inevitably threw up from how much they had drank tipped her off.

With a slightly shaky breath, Celeste ran her fingers through Alice’s hair and began to work, but her gaze kept drifting back to Simon. He was still standing at the railing watching them without caring how obvious it was. And when he cocked his head to the side, indicating that he’d caught her staring for a bit too long, she felt herself flush and quickly turn her attention back to Alice’s hair. Which was a mess and she had missed a whole chunk on the left hand side. Even while Celeste concentrated on fixing the mess she had made of Alice’s hair, the intrigue that had been squashed by her guilt creeped back. Especially since she could feel Simon’s eyes on her back as she worked.

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

summary: in which best friends, y/n henderson and steve harrington get caught up in their feelings while paranormal activities occur in the small town of hawkins, indiana

cw: fem!reader, I wrote this a long time ago(I apologize for everything cringe), shit writing, first person pov, mentions of blood, mentions of fighting, panic attack, 2.5k

<3

Later that day, Nancy, Jonathan and I make our way into a supply store, ready to gather tools for our plan of destroying the monster. Splitting up, we wander throughout the store, searching for the items we need. As I take a careful look around, I notice a crowbar that resembles mine, the same one I lost going through the tree last night.

Together, we all approach the counter and put our items on it, which includes, nails, hammers, bear trap, lighter fluid, and my crowbar. The man at the counter looks at us like we're crazy. We might be.

"And I'll have four boxes of the .38's." Jonathan says to the man who goes back to grab the boxes.

I anxiously drum my fingers across the counter, silently humming to a song. The man comes back with the four boxes, still giving us a confused look.

"What you kids doin' with all this?" The man asks finally.

There's a pause as the three of us glance at each other.

"Monster hunting." I offer with a shrug.

"Huh." The man scoffs before ringing us up.

Nancy, Jonathan, and I walk out of the store hands full of bags and boxes as we approach Jonathan's car.

"Monster hunting?" Jonathan laughs at my previous explanation to the man in the shop.

Amused, we all laugh, as Jonathan opens the trunk of his car, carefully placing the boxes and bags inside.

"You know, last week I was shopping for a new top I thought Steve might like. It took me and Barb all weekend." Nancy laughs at the memory, "It seemed like life or death, you know? And... and now—"

"You're shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers." Jonathan concludes the girl's thought with a little chuckle as he closes his trunk.

"And (Y/n) Henderson," I pipe in with a wide grin.

"Yeah." Nancy concludes, with a soft smile.

"What's the weirdest part?" Jonathan asks with his own little grin, "Us or the bear trap?"

"You guys." Nancy replies sarcastically still with a smile plastered on her face.

"Definitely us." I add before we all laugh lightly.

Suddenly, breaking our bonding moment, a car comes rolling down the street with a couple honks.

"Hey Nance," A douchebag from school, Reed, calls out, "Can't wait to see your movie." He comments before laughing and driving away with his friend.

"What the hell was that?" Jonathan asks as we look at each other in confusion.

"I don't know," Nancy replies looking quizzically down the street.

Then it dawns on me.

I turn around at the same time as Nancy and we glance at each other, thinking the same thing.

"What?" Jonathan asks as we turn.

Nancy and I take off, walking quickly down the sidewalk and towards the local movie theater.

"What?" Jonathan asks again as we walk away, "Hey, where are you guys going?"

Nancy and I catch glimpse of the red paint on the board above the theater, before we start running.

"Nancy, (Y/n)! Wait!" Jonathan calls out from not far behind us, "Guys!"

With a look of horrified dismay on her face, Nancy leads us across the street, finally arriving at the movie theater. When we see the signboard it reads, "All The Right Moves, Starring Nancy THE SLUT Wheeler", in big red, easily recognizable hand writing.

Steve. What the hell did you do.

Nancy seems to be stunned into silence as Jonathan comes up behind us.

"Jesus," He whispers, noticing the board too.

Suddenly I hear the loud sounds of spray cans and Tommy's familiar laughter, in the nearby alley. With a scowl on my face, I force myself to walk quickly towards the noise, my feet pounding on the pavement. Reaching the sources of the racket, I find Steve, standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching Tommy as he spray paints the wall. To my annoyance, Carol is obviously right by Tommy's side and even Nichole, the girl who ratted Jonathan out about the whole pictures thing, had joined then.

With a scowl still clearly plastered on my face, I walk up to Steve and quickly shove his chest, making him stumble backward with a surprised grunt.

"What the hell did you do?" I hiss lowly at Steve, attempting to shove him again, only for him to grab my wrists and hold them tightly.

"I didn't do anything, freak." He hisses back with narrowed eyes before letting go of my wrists.

"Ooh, she's feisty today," Tommy comments with a chuckle, causing both Carol and Nichole to let out giggles.

"Shut up, Tommy," I snap whipping my head towards the boy I've always hated.

I take a few steps towards Tommy, my knuckles clenched in a tight fist, ready to throw a punch at him. But before I can do so, Steve grabs my wrist, bringing it back down. As I start to back away, Tommy suddenly whips his arm out and slaps my cheek with brute force, probably leaving behind a red print on my skin. Grabbing my cheek, I stare at Tommy in disbelief, unable to comprehend what just happened.

"Tommy." Steve hisses at his friend, a warning and look of disapproval in his eyes. He then pulls me by the waist, placing me by his side and puts his own hand on my cheek to check for any signs of hurt. I immediately swat his hand away with a look of anger, taking a few steps back to create some distance between us. As Steve sees my reaction, he looks at me with an expression filled with regret.

Before Steve can utter an apology out, Nancy comes strutting down the alleyway. She wears a furious expression on her face which seems to grab everyone's attention.

"Aw, hey there princess." Carol teases, turning towards the fuming girl.

"Uh oh, she looks upset." Tommy says with a tooth-eating grin.

Nancy walks right up to Steve, her eyes fixed on him with hurt and teary eyes. Without a second thought, she slaps him hard across his cheek, just as I had been by Tommy moments ago. The shock of her action causes Steve to bring his hand up to his cheek.

A loud "ooh" rings out, everyone just as surprised at the strength and intensity of the slap they'd just witnessed.

"What is wrong with you?" Nancy spits in Steve's face.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? I was worried about you." Steve shoots back immediately, "I can't believe that I was actually worried about you." He scoffs.

"What are you talking about?" She replies, still angrily but now confused.

"I wouldn't lie if I were you." Carol comments as Jonathan comes up from behind Nancy, "You don't want to be known as the lying slut now, do you?" She finishes with a smile.

"Speak of the devil," Tommy says, noticing Jonathan, "Hi." He says after jumping down from his original spot.

"You came by last night?" Nancy concludes, looking at Steve who has his eyes locked on Jonathan.

"Ding ding ding," Carol says in a sing-song voice, "Does she get a prize?" She questions teasingly as Tommy wraps his arm around her.

"Look, I don't know what you think you saw, but it wasn't like that." Nancy tells Steve desperately, taking a couple steps forward.

"What, you just let him into your room to... study?" Steve says, finally glancing away from Jonathan.

"Or for another pervy photo session?" Tommy says with a laugh.

"We were just—" Nancy starts.

"You were just what?" Steve asks instantaneously, "Finish the sentence. Finish... the sentence." He dares his girlfriend who stand in front of him, breathing heavily.

"Go to hell Nancy." Steve whispers finally.

"Come on guys, lets just leave." I say quietly, walking forward to grab Nancy and Jonathan's arms.

"Where are you going, (Y/n)? Carol asks with a smirk, "We all know you're just Steve's little bitch. All you do is follow him around like a little puppy dog." She pouts slightly, and Tommy makes whining noises.

I turn, rage bubbling inside me, ready to unleash my anger on something. Before I can act on my impulse, Jonathan grabs my arm and tugs me away from the group.

"You know what Byers? I'm actually kind of impressed." Steve says, refusing to let the argument go, "I always took you for a queer, but I guess you're just a little screw-up like your father. Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, that house is full of screw-ups."

With an overwhelming surge of emotion, my body instinctively moves towards Steve and my fist swings upward to connect with his nose, exactly like he taught me.

"Steve... Do we have to do this?" I sigh, following behind the boy to his backyard.

"Yep. We're doing this." Steve says looking back at me, "You need to be prepared for bad situations, (Y/n). I'm just trying to protect you."

"Fine..."  I say, before Steve grabs my hands getting them into a solid starting position.

"So you just..." Steve explains, showing me his uppercut.

I hesitantly throw a punch into the air, sending Steve a confused glance. Clearly unsure with what I'm doing. 

"Yeah, just like that." Steve says, "You're a natural." He finishes with a smile.

"You think?" I ask, searching his face for approval.

"Of course, why would I ever lie to you?"

The memory of the past fades from my mind as I find myself face-to-face with Steve once more. With an expression of hurt and shock, the same Steve from the memory, my Steve, stands before me, mouth hanging open as blood drips front his nose, slowly trickling down to his lips. Anger clouds my judgment as our eyes meet, his still filled with pain and confusion while mine are clouded with anger and resentment. Neither of us say anything as we stare at each other, the past coming to haunt us.

Before I can stop it, Steve pushes me out of the way with such force, I'm knocked to the ground. Nancy immediately rushes over to help me up, while Steve starts shoving Jonathan as we walk away.

"You know, I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. A bunch of screw-ups in your family." Steve continues and Jonathan pauses as we're walking out of the alleyway, "I mean, your mom, I'm not even surprised what happened to your brother.

"Steve, shut up!" I yell as Nancy tries to pull Jonathan away.

“I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you, but the Byers, their family it's a disgrace to the entire—"

Steve's sentence is cut off by a strong punch from Jonathan, he falls backward, landing painfully against a nearby pole. With rage and determination in his eyes, he grabs Jonathan and quickly talked him to the ground, their bodies hitting the ground with a loud thump. The two boys tangle together, as they roll and thrash on the ground. They punch and kick at each other to as their only service to feed their anger and hatred for each other.

"Stop, Steve!" Nancy yells at her boyfriend, but she just stands still and so do it.

"Knock it off, you guys!" Carol says, worriedly, "Get off of him, seriously!"

"Kick his ass, man!" Tommy yells, encouraging the fight.

As Jonathan pummels Steve with more punches, the fight continues, the two boys throwing vicious blows at one another. Jonathan seems to last most of the heavy strikes, causing a cut to start to form near Steve's eye, which will no doubt swell. Tommy tries to intervene and stop the fight, but Steve simply brushes him aside and continues his fight with Jonathan as it becomes more and more violent.

"Jonathan stop it you're going to hurt him!" Nancy yells as Jonathan successfully pins Steve to the ground, raining a series of punches onto his face.

"Jonathan, stop!" I yell, my eyes tearing up slightly at both of my friends being hurt.

In the midst of the fight, the loud sound of police sirens round the corner, causing everyone to stop dead in their tracks, except Jonathan, who remains focused on Steve. We all turn with wide eyes, seeing police enter the alley.

"Cops!" Tommy yells, worried.

"Jonathan, get off of him!" I shout at my friend, who doesn't stop his attack.

"Stop it!" Nancy yells, leaning forward towards the boy.

"Cops, come on!" Tommy yells again, grabbing all of his friends.

"You have to stop it!" Nancy shouts again.

"Just go, Carol!" I hear Tommy yell at his girlfriend before she runs off.

"He's had enough man," Tommy says angrily to Jonathan, trying to pull him away from Steve, but Jonathan just pushes him away, "I said he's had enough!"

The combination of yelling and police sirens is too much for my mind to handle, and I feel like I'm drowning in a vortex of swirling sensations. Sensing my overwhelming panic, I bring my hands up to cup my ears, trying to muffle the sounds that seem to be everywhere. With my eyes squeezed shut, I try to think about happy thoughts, but they don't come like they usually do. I am left with a sense of utter helplessness as I struggle to catch my breath, my heart pounding in my chest.

"(Y/n)?" I hear a faint voice say, "What's wrong with her?"

"She's having a panic attack," I hear another voice choke out, wincing in the process.

Steve.

"Jonathan, let me go!" I hear him again, "Let me see her! Hey!"

"Move!"

I feel a pair of unusually rough hands grasp my wrists, gently lowering my hands from my ears. I open my eyes, only to find myself face-to-face with the bloodied and bruised Steve. With my heart pounding in my chest, a sense of anger and worry washes over me at the sight of my injured best friend. With Jonathan being held back and handcuffed by the police and Tommy looking at me in shock and concern for helping his friend for escape, the situation feels hard to process.

"Hey, I'm right here." Steve's voice breaks through my anxious thoughts, and his presence brings me back to reality. He takes my hand and places it gently over his heart, its rapid pounding reminds me of the pain and suffering he had just caused. Despite the emotional hurt, his touch somehow still manages to calm me down, the knowledge that he's there, with me.

In the blink of an eye, Steve is separated from me, as Tommy grabs his arm, pulling him out of the alley and away from the chaos. Steve leans on his friend for support, as the duo makes their escape.

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, go," Tommy users.

The cop, who's attempting to catch them, stands absolutely no chance. So, they get away.

And I'm left there standing alone.

<3

next chapter . masterlist . steve harrington masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

What would Erik do if he found out the love of his life got married and had a kid when he went MIA for a few years while on a military mission? Would he track her down at her job and be waiting in the car for her? Would he walk in her office and lock the door? Would he give a fuck about that other plan b nigga?

Destiny had just dropped her twin boys off to her mom’s who agreed to watch them over night so that her and her husband could have some much needed alone time. The kids would be turning two years old soon and Destiny had a lot of party planning to do. She’s s stay at home mom and her husband has a six figure job and pays all the bills. A day for Destiny consists of waking up to get the toddlers together, make her husband breakfast, do her morning Pilates while her son’s played with their toys, take a shower during their scheduled nap time, and then run errands. Errands that includes Home Goods, Starbucks, a pedicure, and a shopping spree, all with her husband’s money.

Destiny didn’t always live like this. Before her husband came into the picture, she was madly in love with a man who she couldn’t keep up with if she tried. Erik Stevens. He was a man full of secrets and living a double life that she knew nothing about because it was for her own safety. Destiny grew tired of lying to her family and friends about Erik, waiting around to start a family and become a wife, watching him pack his bags the next day after he hadn’t been home for 24 hrs. The nerve of him to show up unannounced in the dead of night and thrust ten inches of fat dick up in her with her knees by her ears after being gone with no explanation.

This time around, he’d been gone for two years. Destiny had enough. She blocked him from everything and packed up and moved to Beverly Hills where she got a job as a teacher. There she met her husband who already had a child of his own and they were married within the next year. It’s year three that Erik hadn’t showed up and it’s not like he would be able to find her…right?

Destiny entered her luxury home and went to take a shower and get herself dressed. What Destiny hadn’t noticed is a man dressed in all black waiting for her in her husband’s office. She could see the door was ajar and not thinking anything of it, she walked up to the door only to find the lamp light on. Destiny had an uneasy feeling in her gut. Her husband never left the lamp light on or his office door opened. Destiny pushed it open further and boot covered feet caught her eyes first. The more the door swung back, the more this intruder came to be. Black fitted long sleeve top, black cargos, black boots, shoulder length locs with a temp fade.

“Hi, princess.”

That husky voice could only be from one person.

“Erik.”

She stood paralyzed in that doorway. He slipped his legs from the desk and leaned in, using his finger tips to push the lamp so that it could ignite his face more. When that light appeared across his face Destiny’s eyes went wide. He’s still just as fine as he was three years ago only this time he was bigger; more intimidating.

“Erik—how did you—”

“It was easy. Took me some time to get to you because I’ve been so busy but I’ve been keeping an eye on you. You’re married now?”

Erik picked up a framed family photo from her husband’s desk. Erik reclined back in the chair, fingers stroking his mouth as he studied the photo. It was eerily silent. Destiny watched him with terrified eyes.

“Twins?” Erik questioned.

“Y—Yes.”

“You have the life you always wanted.”

Erik sat the photo down gently. His eyes looked up at Destiny.

“You know, I always thought you’d be waiting for me. Silly of me, right? To think you would want this life with me and only me.”

Destiny looked everywhere but at him.

“You never wanted this, Erik. If you did, you wouldn’t have pushed me away. I was down for whatever back then. Things have changed.”

Hmm,” Erik pushed himself up from his seat behind the desk, “Are you happy?”

“I am. I have beautiful children. I’m a happy wife. I don’t have to wake up wondering if my husband will disappear for months—”

“Your husband ain’t shit, ma.”

Destiny blinked at Erik.

“Excuse me?”

Erik walked around the desk and picked up a folder. He handed it to Destiny. She took it from his grasp and opened it. When she did, the pictures before her eyes shocked her. With a hand to her mouth, tears began to fall from her eyes.

“He’s having an affair. She works for him. It’s been going on since you two have been married.”

“H—I don’t understand.”

Erik started taking steps towards her but Destiny created space between them again.

“Is this who you want to spend the rest of your life with?” Erik questioned.

Destiny looked up at Erik. She still couldn’t believe he was there. All of her old feelings seemed to come back. All the emotions and physical reactions towards him that she kept hidden away. It was overwhelming how one unexpected visit could make that big of an impact. Despite being furious with him, she was happy to see that he was alive and well.

“I had this man’s babies. He proposed to me. So all I am is the mother of his children who takes care of the house while he goes out and does his dirt?”

Destiny’s hands trembled with rage. She thought she would break down and cry but she was more angry with herself than anything. How could she be so stupid? This woman that her husband is messing around with has been around her children. Their busy taking vacations together, her husband purchased her a home, and their welcoming a child.

“Say the word and I’ll kill him.”

Destiny’s eyes snapped up to stare at Erik. She always knew he had a sinister side to him. She always guessed that he was a killer. He didn’t outright admit to it, but there were too many signs hinting towards it. Random stashes of guns, unexplainable bruises and injuries, military-like reflexes. It was just all too telling.

“I mean it. I’ll end his fuckin’ life.”

“You can’t just show up again and think by giving me this everything is good! You left me for two years! What makes you think that I want anything to do with you!”

Erik gave her a sly smirk.

“You never got over me. You only used this nigga as a bandaid. You thought you were in love. Yeah, you had two kids, but that doesn’t mean you truly love him. Probably been a minute since you had that, right? It was a fairytale in the beginning and then reality set in. After the kids he didn’t touch you? After he made you his wife you were to stay home and take care of things? You’re better than that, baby.”

Destiny tried to turn away from Erik but he grabbed her chin to look at him. She didn’t bother to fight him. She knew his words were true.

“I hate that you had kids with that bitch ass motherfucker.”

Erik glanced down at her lips before walking away towards a closet in the office. There, he opened the closet door and Destiny’s hands flew up to cover her mouth. There, bound and gagged was her cheating husband. He was bloodied and beaten.

“He doesn’t deserve you. He never deserved you.”

[ragdolls-and-such]

WHATS UP GUYS. H2G2 SWAP AU

alright so! roles and explanations and stuff. pretty please do not complain about how uncreative my names are for these guys i did Not want to think about it too hard. i just like my sillies + that is all Anyway lets go !!!

this is ford dent and he's having a really interesting time rn. guy who is just ITCHING to be up in the stars exploring all that madness gets beamed up into the air with his bestie and then realizes "hey i didnt realize Peril would be part of the equation. why's there so much of That" so basically he's in a constant state of conflict between the "this is cool as shit" and the "GET ME OUT BEFORE I DIE"

next up is arthur prefect (yes i know that ruins the car joke. forgive me). arthur left betelgeuse and was headed towards Somewhere for vacation. he ended up making a wrong turn, crash-landing on earth, and having to figure things out from there. unlike canon ford, he has Not researched anything in space, he just knows about it in passing, so he's just as clueless as his ford.

simply "zaphod." that's it. a personality prototype from the sirius cybernetics corporation, built to be as optimistic and friendly as possible, ended up almost completely oblivious to or uncaring of danger, and SO VERY FULL OF HIMSELF. everyone fuckin hates him basically but every time canon marvin's horrible tragedy occurs to him, he thinks to himself "well at least I'M here. at least i have Me." and slowly the feeling starts to fade as he realizes no one actually gives a shit about him as he's like. rotting away, half-sun-melted. fun stuff :)

TRILLIAN BEEBLEBROX WHO I LOVE SO DEARLY. former genius, still Sort Of a genius, maybe? she wanted to become president of the galaxy So badly. she wanted to make the milky way a better place and knew Exactly how she was going to do it. she worked relentlessly to be elected and . lost the election. realizing that the thing that kept her from being elected WAS the exact thing that made her Want to be elected in the first place - her genuine honesty and care for people - she just went "fuck it, i hate it here," and corkscrewed her brain. Ironically, ended up getting elected afterwards, because she became more "fun" as a result of this.

finally, marvin mcmillan. human teenager, about 17 years old, and was dragged along to a party by his friends. ended up meeting trillian there, who he immediately recognized as an alien (thanks to her constant bragging about it...) and he begged her to be taken away from this god awful planet. she basically unofficially adopted him but instead of adoption its more like . what do you call it when its a wine aunt + a weird angsty nephew.

that's all <3 hope you enjoyed

[ladykailitha]

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 3

The part you’ve all been waiting for. Steve and Eddie! We also get the explanation of Edith’s names. True story: A friend of mine got his girlfriend  pregnant and she called their daughter Josephine, but he HATED it, so when they broke up, he started calling her Jo to piss the mom off because she hated the nickname.

Part 1 Part 2

***

Eddie Munson got out of his car and was impressed by the members of Harri’s band. It was four member group with a guitarist, a bassist, a drummer and a keyboardist. Not quite like his boys, but they seemed like they knew what they were doing.

He opened his mouth to say hello when he stopped dead in his tracks. Standing up from the drum kit was the female version Steve Harrington. Down to the honey colored hair, the hazel eyes, and the freckles. Her hair was shorter than Steve ever kept it, one side half-shaved and the half over her left eye, but it was the same wild locks that made Steve famous in school. He quickly took a couple of pictures with his phone before his son spotted him.

“Dad!” Harri cried, practically throwing himself at his dad.

Eddie gave him a big hug. 

“Sweet place you’re friend’s got here,” he said, looking around the garage, slipping his phone into his back pocket. The house couldn’t have been further from the Harrington place in Loch Nora. It was warm browns and cool blues. And that was just what he could see of the garage.

“Come meet her,” Harri said bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “She kicks ass.”

Eddie laughed and allowed his son to drag him over to the drum kit. “You know Mandy, and this Kenny Grant. And this is the queen of the castle, Miss Thing.”  

Edith laughed and shoved her sticks back into the bucket she kept close by. “Hi, Mr Munson.” She stuck out her hand for him to shake and he took it.

“What’s with the moniker?” Eddie asked, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grin.

“Most of my friends call me Miss Thing because when I was little I was mute and I loved the Addams Family movies, so because I could sign Uncle Dusty called me Miss Thing,” Edith explained. “But everyone else calls me Edie.”

Eddie’s grin grew bigger. “Edie, huh?”

“My full name is Edith Barbara Harrington,” Edie explained. “My dad wanted to name me Lilian, but my mother overruled him. So when she fucked off, Dad started calling me Edie to piss her off.” She pursed her lips and looked at the ground. Eddie was struck by how much she looked like Steve. “At least he got to chose the middle name.”

Eddie’s smile grew fond. “Barbara’s good name.”

Edie just shrugged her shoulders, “Aunt Nancy was pissed Dad got to it first. But as Dad pointed out she told everyone who would sit down for longer than five minutes that she wasn’t going to have kids so...”

“So your dad won that argument,” Eddie finished. “Losing once and while is good for her.”

Edie laughed. “That’s what Dad said. So when her and Uncle Jon had a little girl while doing some expose in Europe somewhere, she stole Lilian from him.”

Eddie chuckled. “Sounds about right.” He looked around. “I want to let you kids get back to practicing so where’s your dad?”

Edie jerked her thumb at the house. “If it’s as bad as it looked, just follow the sounds of retching, you’ll find him.”

Eddie nodded and made his way to the house but as he turned she could have sworn Mr Munson said, “Still getting migraines, the poor bastard.”

Once he was gone Edie turned to Harri. “Does your dad already know my dad?”

Harri frowned. “I’ve never heard my dad mention a Steve or even the last name Harrington in my life.”

Edie looked at the door that led to the house in confusion. “And I’ve never heard of the name Munson before either.” She turned to him. “What did you say your dad’s first name was?”

“I didn’t,” Harri said with grim expression. “It’s Edmond, but everyone calls him Ed or Eddie.”

Edie’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. No wonder I’ve never heard the name before.”

Harri just nodded.

Mandy spoke up. “Hey, guys can we get back to practice?”

Harri and Edie looked at each other and then nodded.

*

Eddie heard the retching and his heart ached. He hadn’t thought about Steve Harrington for years. Not since Jay’s funeral. They had fallen out long before then, but Steve had been on his mind that rainy day in Hampshire. Mostly cursing him, but a thought nonetheless.

But now he was so far from that man that knelt there sobbing in the rain begging for Jay to come back, maybe this was the universe’s sign that it was time to mend bridges.

He found Steve right where Edie said he’d be, curled in front of a toilet retching his very empty guts out. He crouched down to the side of him and tapped his shoulder.

“Harri?” Steve murmured.

Eddie huffed out a laugh and signed. “Flatterer.”

Steve rolled over to prop himself against the side of the tub and looked at him more closely. “Eddie?”

Again he signed, “Where’s your hearing aid, rock star?”

“On the sink,” Steve muttered. “And I can hear just fine out of my right ear. It’s just the left one that’s a bitch.”

Eddie laughed and reaching behind him grabbed the aid off the vanity top and put in his pocket. “I don’t think you want this to fall into the toilet or the sink for that matter.”

“Dustin would kill me,” Steve agreed warily.

Eddie flushed the toilet and got a washcloth wet. He handed it to Steve.

Steve flushed a bright pink and used it wipe off his face and some of his shirt where he hadn’t made it to the bathroom in time. He washed his hands and threw it in the laundry basket.

“You know I used to make jokes about basketball being nothing more than shooting balls into laundry baskets,” Eddie teased. “Way to prove me right, Harrington.”

Steve gave a half smile. “Don’t make me laugh, I’ll throw up again.”

“And we definitely don’t want that,” Eddie agreed. “Do you think you’re done with your porcelain throne, your majesty?”

Steve rubbed his face and looked down awkwardly. “If you mean to ask if I’m done throwing up, I should be.”

It came out harsher than he meant to, but he didn’t need Eddie bringing up King Steve, not now.

Because he was looking down he missed the flicker of emotion skitter across Eddie’s face.

“Can you stand?” Eddie asked softly.

Steve tried but ended up lurching his direction instead. Eddie scrambled to catch him.

“Whoa there, Harrington,” Eddie murmured. “I’m going to help you up and then get you to your bed. Please tell me it’s not upstairs.”

“It’s not,” Steve murmured. “It’s just down the hall, third door on the left.”

Eddie got his arms under Steve and lifted him to his feet. He propped him against the wall and then lifted him bridal style. Steve merely moaned and buried his aching head into Eddie’s neck to block out the light that would hit his face once they exited the bathroom.

“All right, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Steve nodded.

Eddie slipped out of the bathroom and followed Steve’s directions to the bedroom. The door was open so Eddie was able to walk right in without disturbing Steve.

The room was a far cry from the soulless monstrosity that was Steve’s teenaged bedroom. It was blues and greys and soft downy covers. He had pictures of Edie on his night stand and a large white wardrobe.

“Can you make it to the bed if I set you in front of it?” Eddie murmured.

“I should be able to,” Steve said, strained. “I just had a hard time getting up because I’d been on the floor for so long.”

Eddie pursed his lips. Yep. Yep, that was more likely than Steve not being able to walk. Yep.

“But thanks for the assist,” Steve continued, oblivious of Eddie’s internal panic.

Eddie gently let him down and waited until Steve was able to stand on his own before letting go. Eddie turned down the covers and Steve slid in with a sigh of relief. Eddie draped the blankets over him and tucked him in. He pulled out the hearing aid and placed on the nightstand next to Edie’s picture.

“I’ll send Edie to check on you when they’re done with their practice,” Eddie said softly.

Steve nodded and Eddie turned to leave.

“I didn’t name her after you, you know,” Steve whispered.

Eddie’s shoulders sagged and turned back to face him. “So she said.”

“The nickname though...” Steve said with a chuckle.

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Steve snuggled further into the pillow. “Mhmm. Did it to piss Addison off.”

There was a story there, Eddie could tell but he didn’t want to press Steve while he was in pain.

“Go to sleep, rock star,” Eddie said instead.

And as he closed the door, Eddie swore he heard Steve murmur, “I missed you.”

*

Eddie pulled out his cell phone and pressed and held down the number two.

“Eddie!” Dustin greeted. “How are you on this fine spring evening?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Eddie said in that tone that immediately set Dustin’s teeth on edge. It was the tone that said something had gone horribly wrong and it was up to Dustin to fix it.

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice cracking a bit.

“Well, Uncle Dusty,” Eddie said with a malicious grin on his face. “You’ll never guess where I am.” He turned his phone around and sent the two pictures to him.

“Hold on I got a couple pictures here...” Dustin said trailing off. “Holy fucking shit! Is that Harri with Edie Harrington? At Steve’s house?!”

“It most certainly is,” Eddie continued. “Would you care to tell me why I wasn’t informed OUR KIDS WENT TO THE SAME SCHOOL!” he whisper-screamed, knowing that Steve was just down the hall and his kid was in the garage.

Dustin pulled the phone away from his ear and rubbed his ear with his finger. “Sheesh, dude. You’re loud. Even when you’re trying to be quiet.”

Eddie pushed his fingers into his eye as he fought to tamp down on his temper. “Dustin...” he said, slow, dark and sharp.

“Look, man,” Dustin said. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I warned you that if you moved back to Indy there was a chance you’d see Steve. And as for your guys’s kids going to the same school, you had to know that was possibility. You moved into the richest neighborhood. Which is where Steve has lived for the last five years.”

Eddie ground his teeth and seethed. Because Dustin was right, the little butthead. He had been warned. A lot of people had warned him.

“Fuck!” Eddie hissed into his phone. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t uproot Harri again. It’d kill him.”

“So don’t,” Dustin said. “You don’t have to interact with Steve outside your kids being in the same band and going to the same school. I don’t think my Mom and Joyce ever spent more than five minutes in each others’ company at time and they liked each other.”

“I don’t think I can do it,” Eddie whispered. “When I came over he was in the throes of one of his migraines and from the look of it, it was one of the bad ones. You know what a bleeding heart I am...”

Dustin sighed. “So you helped with a migraine. You remembered how to do it. Congrats. I still don’t see how you can’t just avoid him in the future. You know,” he said bitterly, “like you have for the last twenty years.”

“Hey,” Eddie bit out. “You know why. You fucking know why.”

Dustin scoffed. “And I still think it’s bullshit. So go on then, why can’t you ignore him now?”

Eddie took a deep breath and let out in a shuddering sigh. “As I was leaving after helping him get back to bed, he said...”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Dustin said. “You helped him to bed?”

“Fuck, Dustin,” Eddie snapped. “Not like that. I just made sure he didn’t fall down.” Which was a lie. But that’s what Dustin got when he insinuated there was more to it than that. “Anyways, he said that he missed me and that though Edith wasn’t his choice, calling her Edie was definitely in honor of me. How the hell am I supposed to walk away from that?”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two and Eddie thought he’d lost the connection.

“No,” Dustin agreed, soft and solemn. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to walk away either.”

“What do I do?” Eddie whined.

“I think you know what to do,” Dustin said. “Stop running away.”

Eddie let out another shuddering breath. “Yeah. It’s time.” 

***

Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11  Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch

[starrzies]

★Meet the Artist 2024★

I might have forgotten to post this </3

Hello there!!

I'm Starrzies, but I also go by Rodimus!! Of these two names I prefer my nicknames (Starrz/Roddy) more than the formality of my full username/chosen name!! I'm 19 and a full time college student! (I want to become a Forensic Pathologist!) My pronouns are He/They ONLY and my chosen gender identity is Demiboy! I'm also Aroace, my specific labels being Cupioromantic/sexual!

I'm just a silly little guy trying to do his best. I am a hobbyist artist and writer and I love to share what I come with in the hopes that other people will enjoy it as much as I do! I tend to post art related to my own characters, art I've done for other people and - more rarely - fandom related art! I also stream on Twitch!!! Usually it's art streams (especially for Art Fight!) or me playing my games - either solo or with other people! I do have a Discord server full of my friends, mutuals and people interested in my stuff and community! Feel free to come join :) I'm on basically on every platform (maybe not active, but I'm there!)

My special interest (been into it for as long as I can remember) is Transformers!! It will almost always show up at some point! I'm also super into Lego Monkie Kid, Overwatch and Genshin Impact!! (The last of the 2 I on and off play!) I tend to reblog content form these 4 fandoms! (They're the main 4 but I may branch out!)

I try and be super friendly! Really, I don't bite, but I do have a very limited social battery! So conversations may not last very long when it comes to talking! I also sometimes just don't have the energy to reply. If I don't reply then it's nothing against you, I promise!! That being said I AM TOTALLY OPEN TO BEING FRIENDS/MUTUALS!! Please note, if you are younger than 18 I will NOT be your close friend, close mutuals at most. This is just due to safety! (Pre-established friends before I became an adult are still a nd will remain my friends.)

Pets! I own,,, a few. Just a small little amount. They're all my babies though and I adore them. I do my beast to take proper care of them and give them long, happy and fulfilling lives! Hiraeth and Ravage both came from litters I've raised! (Hiraeth being an accident and Ravage from a foster litter.) Ember was my sibling's cat but became mine because she just,,, likes me more? My other pets were 100% intended! All of these guys are spoiled rotten,,,

Silly little notes/explanations!!

Cupioromantic/sexual; someone who doesn't feel/feels little romantic/sexual attraction but desires a romantic/sexual relationship

Demiboy; someone whose gender identity partially identifies with masculinity, but is not entirely binary

I've been in relationships before! However, I generally only feel platonic love for people around me. I genuinely love (/p) all of my friends and you'll see me make that very clear! I am NOT interested in relationships, especially after this most recent one. Things have gotten complicated AF and I don't even want to bother entertaining anyone.

I have a Decepticon Insignia Tattoo on my left wrist! My first tattoo ever and I LOVE it so much! I will be going back in October for hopefully, my second tattoo!

I own a 2001 Ford Mustang!! It's a convertible too! I ADORE my car so much and there is so much I have planned for it!!

I own 4 dogtags! They are NOT military related at all though! They just have special meaning to me and I've been wearing them since 2018! I did actually let someone borrow one of them for a decent amount of time but it was returned to me! I don't think I'm ever going to let them go again, they mean too much to me.

Ravage is named after the TF character! :D He was my little gaming buddy back when I was fostering a litter of kittens for my senior project. I ended up keeping him, I got too attached. Now he is best friends with Ember!

Hiraeth was a TOTAL accident. I was supposed to just have her mom but she was pregnant much to our surprise! (Someone was getting rid of her, probably because they knew she was pregnant, and gave her to us without telling us that lol) I was allowed to keep Hiraeth but none of the other cats were allowed :( They all went to loving homes though!

Discord is my main, preferred way of communication!! I always have it open on my second monitor so I tend to respond really quickly on there :) You should totally add me on there! I'm under the same username ;)

Feel free to interact with me!! Just be aware of my boundaries and DNI! (Very basic btw!) I'm always happy to chat and meet new people :)

I want to make a comic!! I have so much more planning before I can work on it though :( One day! You may see little teasers to it being posted on my socials!!

This blog is my SFW blog!! I do have,, other accounts but those will remain unnamed! If you are curious and have your age visible feel free to ask me about it in DMs!

WHEW, I think that's enough personal info that I'm putting on the internet LMFAOOO I'll be sure to redo this next year as well ;))

Quick Reminder!!   I DO NOT allow people to reupload, repost, claim, trace, reference or use my art without my Permission! If my art is posted anywhere else other than my accounts it’s not mine! If you like my work, consider following me or commissioning me!! (This does not count if the art was made for you! Please remember to credit me though!!)

Art Trades are Open! Commissions are Open!! Do NOT ask me about Requests!! Do NOT; Reupload, Repost, Claim, Trace, Reference or use my art without my Permission! 💜

You can Dm me Questions or Concerns! Like my work? Check out my Carrd for where else you can find me!

[autisticlenaluthor]

Control

takes place after music but before lena

Three days pass before Kara tells anyone about what happened at the park. 

When she gets home, she slams her door so hard it crumbles right off the hinges, then locks herself in her closet with her favorite book.

She cries for nearly two hours– big, heavy tears that burn as they fall and clump up in her throat. She cries for Kal, who she didn’t mean to betray; cries because she never would’ve been so kind to a Luthor if she’d known who they were. Because she can’t believe she was so stupid– can’t believe she knew Lena’s last name this whole time but still managed to convince herself she wasn’t one of those Luthors. And then she cries because Lena really did seem like any other girl. No– she was even more interesting than the other girls Kara knows and maybe that’s what hurts so much.

She’d wanted to be her friend. Friends with a Luthor.

She hates herself for being so trusting. So naive. 

But then she thinks about Kal (she always goes back to him) and how for years, Lex had been his right-hand man. And it’s like a switch goes off in Kara’s brain. If Lena could lure her in a day, it no longer seems so perplexing how her cousin could’ve stayed by Lex’s side for so long. 

Knowing their mistake is shared makes things the tiniest bit easier. 

It’s what gives Kara the courage to leave the closet after Eliza finishes putting the door back in its frame, and crawl back into bed. She eats dinner half under the covers and for the rest of the day, refuses to speak. No, she can’t speak– she can’t do anything, she’s too paralyzed with anger and exhaustion and every other emotion under the sun. 

But at least she isn’t crying. So hey, it’s a start. 

The next morning, Kara feels like she’s risen from the dead. Her limbs are heavy– her eyes raw and red. Dark bags hang below them, sunken in like hollowed-out bruises. When Kara tries to toast her Pop-Tarts with her heat vision, all she gets is a headache and a weird look from Alex for squinting and grunting down at the plate. 

Eliza tells her she’s experiencing something called a solar flare. She’s burnt herself out and now her body needs time to recover before it can sustain its powers again. She says it’s like when a car runs out of gas or when humans hit a wall and need a few days to recuperate. Kara wants to be upset at the explanation but really, she isn’t sure it makes any sort of difference. Even if she had her powers, she’d be too tired to use them.  

So Kara spends the rest of the day on her side of the room with all her lights off. She tries to read but none of the words stay in her head. Instead, she listens to the Fearless album on her iPod on a loop– not quite awake but not quite asleep. She daydreams about Krypton and the science guild and how the sunset looked from the giant window in her old bedroom. And then she cries some more.

By day three, Kara is bored and restless. If her powers had returned, she’d speed through the clouds until all her excess energy was dispersed. But they haven’t. So she has to settle for periodically flapping her hands and jumping around her room to get rid of the feeling that tells her she’s about to explode. 

It isn’t until the middle of the afternoon, when Alex is at softball practice and the house is feeling uncharacteristically quiet, that Kara finally brings it up.

She finds Eliza on the sofa in the living room and sits beside her on the other end. She brings her legs up into her chest, awkwardly fiddling with the drawstring on her sweatpants as she tries to find the right words. It doesn’t take long for her to realize there are none. So Kara bites the bullet and comes right out with it.

“The girl I had to work with the other day…” she begins. “For the extra credit project… it was Lex Luthor’s sister.” 

Eliza’s eyes widen and she sets her book down, turning her full attention to Kara.

“Oh my… did she– she didn’t do anything o- or say anything to you, did she?”

Kara shakes her head. Her voice is quiet. Withdrawn, almost. 

“No. She was weirdly normal. She didn’t tell me who she was.” 

“How did you figure it out?”

Kara shrugs. “Some girls from her school came up to us when we were cleaning. And they– they started saying all these things to her and none of it made sense. So I asked and… they told me.”

“Oh.”

Eliza exhales, frowning.

“That must’ve been really hard.” 

“Yeah. I just… I can’t believe I didn’t know. I– I wanted to be her friend,” Kara says. Her hands start to shake as she speaks. Her throat feels too stiff– like it can’t properly wrap itself around her words. “I feel so gross. Like… dirty.”

“I bet,” Eliza responds, her voice soft. “I know how crazy the whiplash must be for you. But it’s not crazy you wanted to be her friend. You saw someone you liked and you wanted to get to know them. That doesn’t make you dirty.” 

Kara shakes her head and looks down, pressing the pad of her thumb against her nailbed. 

“Her brother tried to kill Kal. He’d want to kill me if he knew me. He– he doesn’t even know I exist and he hates me. And she’s his sister so she– she’d hate me too and she almost really did know me.”

She stops for a moment and clamps her mouth shut, hot tears prickling at her eyes. She thinks about Lena’s quiet, restrained laugh, and how different things would’ve been if she’d known. If neither of their identities had been a lie.

“I don’t want to see her again,” Kara says eventually. “I can’t– I can’t work with someone like her. Or like anyone in her family.” 

Eliza sucks in a breath. She nods, slowly, taking a second to gather her thoughts.

“Kara… what Lex did… it was horrible. And I know I can’t imagine how scary it must’ve been for you to see him go through that. Especially after everything you’ve lost.” 

My world. Kara wants to correct her. I lost my whole world. 

“But Lena is only– what, fifteen, give or take? And I- I’m not saying you have to be friends with her or even like her. All of that is up to you. But she doesn’t have any control over what her family does. Lex is a grown man who can take the fall on his own. But Lena– she’s still a kid… just like you.” 

“She’s not like me,” Kara whispers. “She’s nothing like me.”

“Maybe she isn’t. But we don’t know her,” Eliza says. “Just like she doesn’t know you.”

[readingbooksinisrael]

© Anne Frank Fonds Basel

On (Not) Reading Anne Frank

By Yael van der Wouden•December 2017

The first time someone told me I looked like Anne Frank was also the first conversation I had about pubic hair. Now, of course it’s possible the two topics weren’t actually discussed back to back and my subconscious simply saw an opening one night while I was asleep and stitched the two memories together. All the same, this is how I remember it: We were still living in Israel. I was nine. It was a hot day in Jaffa, but the school hallways were cool. The teachers had set up a display of books by the entrance, and a friend of mine was examining one of them. I was bored, because books were boring. My friend looked from me to the cover of the book in her hand and back to me again and said, You kind of look like Anne Frank.

Oh, I said, hoping this was a compliment.

Then, as if picking up a conversation we’d dropped, she added, Are you getting pubic hair anywhere yet? I think I am, but I’m not sure.

I have another memory from that time, of standing in front of a full-length mirror for a good hour trying to figure out how the parts of my face fit together. I got so close I fogged up the glass.

It was a hot day in this memory, too, our balcony sunny in the mirror’s reflection.

It must have been around then that my mother, bless her heart, made an earnest attempt to turn me into a reader. I do recall having some books in my room growing up, including a collection of children’s poems by Shel Silverstein that I’d taken out of the library because a friend had dragged me there. The book had been overdue for a year or more, something I worried about a lot. I also recall a children’s encyclopedia from the sixties, a pile of comics, maybe a few schoolbooks. I just don’t remember actually reading any of them. When my mom gave me a Hebrew copy of Anne Frank’s diary, which had an orange cover made to resemble an older edition and no photo of Anne, I think she said something like You don’t have to be a big reader, Yael, but give this a try.

I gave it a try, which to me meant staring blankly at the first page for about ten minutes while vividly daydreaming about flying. Then I put it down. When my mom asked about the book a week later, I handed it to her with the explanation — and this is a direct quote — The letters were too small. Sorry.

Anytime I remember my childhood in Israel, the images are always sun drenched, always an inch away from what feels like reality: The chocolate factory at the end of the street, which, if the wind blew just right, made the smoggy breeze sickly sweet. The park called the Monkey Park, which didn’t have monkeys but did have a woman named Yael (like me), who spent nights in the park — because walls, she felt, were always coming at her. The sex workers in the apartment block next to ours who would buy groceries by tying a basket to a rope and lowering it down to street level with a list and money inside. Daliah, the kiosk owner, would take the money and fill up the basket with the listed items. Then the sex workers would lift the basket back up.

When I was ten, we moved from Israel to the Netherlands. It was the 1990s, and my artist parents, unemployed and in debt, had decided to try their luck in my father’s home country after a decade in my mother’s.

My memories of the move are vague. I recall moments, such as waking up in an airport hotel the day after our arrival, taking my sister onto the balcony, looking out over miles of grassland, and watching rabbits jump between tall weeds. Or seeing a swastika spray-painted on an old barn along the highway. My grandfather had come to pick us up from the airport hotel, and on the car ride north I spotted the ugly thing. I panicked and insisted we pull over and call the police, and my mom — really, bless her heart — tried to calm me and explain that, no, no one was going to call the police. Probably more tired and confused than actually scared, I started to cry, which set off a domino effect that will be familiar to families of criers: My sisters saw me and started crying, too. Then the two dogs crammed into the car with us began to whine. Our father shouted at us to calm down, and our mother shouted at our father for shouting at us, and the shouting made us cry harder. What a single swastika can do.

I also became a reader that first summer in the Netherlands, out of complete and utter boredom. We were staying with my grandparents, who lived in the woods: no malls, no kiosks that sold Slush Puppies for a shekel. Their TV got three channels and was only ever turned on for the news at eight o’clock. I spent the first few weeks exploring the house for hidden cabinets, doors — anything. I found an old doll and a stale bag of nuts. I played with the dogs and tried to translate the Destiny’s Child hit “No No No” into Hebrew. When that stopped being entertaining, I surrendered to opening Frances Hodgson Burnett’s children’s novel The Secret Garden. The first few days I read reluctantly — offended, really, that it had come to this — but by the end of the week I’d finished, breathless and convinced I was the human incarnation of Burnett’s protagonist: young Mary, who, following her parents’ death, is made to live with her hunchbacked uncle in his menacing mansion. Over the course of the novel Mary transforms from a sour little girl to a healthy, pink-cheeked young woman who is fond of walkabouts and converses with birds. My very kind grandparents were a far cry from Burnett’s grumbling uncle, and their cottage was no mansion, but none of this proved an obstacle to my imagining myself as Mary. I took long walks in the woods and expected the birds to respond to my loud hellos.

Tentatively, not wanting to jinx it, my mom began feeding me more books.

The second time someone said I looked like Anne Frank, nothing about it felt like a compliment. We had moved from my grandparents’ house to a city. One day a boy on the school playground shouted, Anne Frank! and then got frustrated when I didn’t react. He shouted it a few more times: Anne Frank! Anne Frank! Anne Frank! Somehow it turned into a chant, and the nickname stuck.

That year they took down the Star of David from the only synagogue in town after the building had been vandalized in the night. Once, when the window to my parents’ bedroom was left open, neighborhood kids threw lit firecrackers through it. Later, in my teens, I would move into that room and develop a bad case of insomnia. I’d sit on the windowsill at night, stare out at the street, and fantasize about what I would do if someone came to our door with a can of spray paint or a brick. I pictured myself going berserk on them with the hockey stick I’d bought at a secondhand shop expressly for that purpose.

Once, in middle school or high school or somewhere in between, I told a friend that I didn’t like it when kids called me Anne Frank, and she said, kindly enough, It’s not like Anne Frank did anything wrong, right? So how is it an insult? Her argument seemed solid enough. I couldn’t yet put into words what bothered me about it. Another time, after I found a swastika scratched into my locker at school, a different friend tried to comfort me. I don’t get it, she said. It’s not like you can help being Jewish.

Not for lack of trying, mind you. Maybe it was the shock of going from never having to think about my Jewishness, to having to explain it on a daily basis, to understanding that I was it, to defending it even though I didn’t want to defend it. Whatever the reason, I resented the way it clung to me. Most of all I resented Anne, whoever she had been. I resented that her face was my face and that her story — as far as I understood — was as uneventful as writing a diary, as simple as dying. By that time, around the age of thirteen, I’d graduated from Edwardian children’s novels to fantasy stories — anything that felt like escape. And yet, trying to avoid my own life, all I did was read about versions of myself: kids who move great distances and are surrounded by adults who don’t understand; kids who discover a great secret about themselves. Later I’d look back and see this clearly, but at the time the narratives of young witches narrowly escaping being burned at the stake, or of men who turn into wolves, seemed impossibly brilliant compared to my Jewish story, which felt sad and small, like nothing I wanted to identify with. I didn’t do well at school. I got held back a year and spent after-school hours at the library, writing long stories about characters — all variations on me, of course — who beat up bullies using their newfound magic powers. I still hadn’t read Anne Frank’s diary.

I tried to chameleon my way through the rest of high school. One year I had a friend who was a preppy, the daughter of dentists, so for those twelve months I wore old, pilled sweaters and plastic pearls. The next year I hung out with some skaters and started wearing wide pants — though they weren’t wide in the right way, just too big and held up at the waist with a belt. Another year I got a blond streak in my hair, done by one of my mother’s friends in her kitchen sink, which on occasion masqueraded as a hair salon. The next year I got a perm. None of this had the desired effect. Especially not the perm.

We discussed Anne Frank’s story in history class. The Dutch have a very specific way of remembering it: Anne Frank was mostly Dutch and only a little Jewish, and the Germans were bad and occupied Amsterdam, and the Dutch people were good and helped Anne and her family, but the bad Germans took her away and killed her. Two boys who sat behind me in history drew a cartoon of me as a witch and decorated it with clusters of swastikas. I managed to wrestle the notebook away from them and tear out the page. In one of those rare moments in which you say exactly what you want to say, I told them, You have no talent, and threw away the paper. But they still called me names. The Dutch have a very specific way of cursing in which they use cancer as an adjective, adding it to whatever slur they throw your way: Cancer bitch. Cancer whore. Cancer Jew.

Someone told the history teacher, and he came to me after class and said that if this happened more often, I should come to him. I remember being angered by the “more often” comment — as though once weren’t enough; as though five years of it hadn’t been enough. When I did go to the administration, they reacted with the appropriate shock. Not in our school, they said. When I listed the names of five bullies, they gave me two options: Would I like for them to be expelled or only suspended?

Just tell them not to call me Anne Frank anymore, I answered.

The bullies were suspended for three days, and I got a different locker. The old one still had a swastika on it, but that was for another student to lament. I had to repeat my final year of high school at night — twice — and graduated at nineteen with barely passing grades. I still have nightmares in which I have to go back because of a mistake someone made, and I’m stuck in that last year of night school for eternity — sleeping in fits during the day, keeping watch over our front door after dark. But in reality I moved on: went to vocational school, clawed my way up in the Dutch educational system, and stumbled into a university in Utrecht as if I’d walked into the wrong party but decided to make the best of it.

A statue of Anne Frank stands in the middle of Utrecht, flanked by a church on one side and the university on the other. For a long time I couldn’t figure out why. Anne had never come to Utrecht, had no connection to it. But there she stood, arms behind her back, looking content, even dreamy. Every other day or so, flowers appeared at her feet. Once, I put a flower there, too, with a note attached to it. I’m not you, it said. I still hadn’t read her diary.

At the university I discovered a whole different version of what Jewishness meant to other people, and to me. The swastikas had disappeared from the bathroom mirrors, tables, and notebooks, but to my mind they still persisted in the shape of comments that seemed to go unnoticed. Let me tell this part of the story the way I remember it, and you tell me what you see:

In a class called The Jewish Experience — where, besides the teacher, I’m the only Jewish person in the room — we discuss the following topic: Should we keep remembering the Holocaust? A girl raises her hand and says, Not to minimize the history, but how much longer do we need to rehash a traumatic past? I raise my hand in response and argue that we don’t have to stop remembering one thing to make room for another. As I’m talking, I recall for some reason the time an old Dutch man stopped me on a bridge to ask if I was Jewish, and to tell me I looked like Anne Frank, and to ask if I knew that right where we were standing was the place the Nazis had rounded up the last of “them.” He’d seen it from his bedroom window. He was six at the time. It was winter, and the city had snowed over, and about a hundred Jews stood in a huddle. They were silent, even the babies, as they waited. Silent as they were herded into the backs of trucks. Silent as the trucks drove away. I don’t bring this up in class. I will never bring this up in class.

In a dark hallway I’m nervous and sweating. I recently entered a short story in a contest and have been invited to read it in front of an audience. The organizers are sweet but keep on calling me Anne Frank and gushing over the coincidence: You’re a writer! She’s a writer! You’re both Jewish! And look at you, they say. You are the spitting image. I’m practicing my pronunciation, going over the text on cards, when two volunteers pass by without noticing me, and I overhear them talking:

You think she’s pretty? the girl asks the guy.

I guess, he answers. I mean, if you’re into that Anne Frank look.

At a party I’m in a corner, trying to see if I have enough money left for a final beer, when a guy walks up and says, Don’t make it so hard on me. I don’t know what he means and tell him so. He explains: You. He leans toward me and rubs his finger and thumb together, a gesture that I understand means greedy Jew, and I’m upset that I know this. He continues: Standing in a corner, counting money. C’mon. The joke writes itself.

I finished my BA in comparative literature with a thesis titled “Anne Frank and the Irony of the Subverted Victim.” I’m not sure, in retrospect, how I ended up with the topic. I’m guessing it was part anger, part attention-seeking, part simply looking for confirmation: See? You are nothing like her. Or maybe Yeah, you are everything like her. My thesis was about the many ways in which Anne’s story had been received over the years, the many adaptations it had been given — on screen, in the theater, in literature — and how every interpretation had been more about what people wanted her to represent than about her. I spent a good year immersing myself in the scholarship and adulation her diary had inspired. I’d gone through every literary adaptation I could find, such as Shalom Auslander’s novel Hope: A Tragedy, in which the protagonist gets to chew over his white masculine angst by fucking a non-Jewish woman of color named Aleeyah while Anne Frank, now an old lady and still hiding in his attic, agonizes over writing a follow-up to her first book. Or Philip Roth’s novel The Ghost Writer, in which a maybe-survived-in-secret Anne Frank idolizes Roth’s fictional alter ego — but, you know, in a sexy way.

I discussed the diary at length, feeling for once that I was in charge of this topic everyone expected me to be an expert on. I reveled in the shock value of being an Anne Frank look-alike who shows up at a conference to talk about Anne Frank.

Throughout all of this, though, I still hadn’t read her diary.

Afew years ago I was invited to speak at a conference in Vienna, Austria, the place where my grandmother was born and from which she had fled in the 1930s. When I told her on the phone where I was going, she said: Why would you go there? Vienna has nothing for you.

I suddenly had a deep desire not to be Anne Frank anymore. The day before I left for Vienna, I walked by a hair salon and on impulse went in and asked if they could please cut off most of my hair. I got a pixie cut, a really short one. Before getting on the plane, I colored my eyebrows as dark as I could. I looked nothing like her anymore.

The conference was an odd affair. I was the youngest person there, one of the few women, and the whole thing took on the feeling of a performance. I ended up in a role where whatever I said was either not clever enough or just clever enough to inspire ire in the audience. I spent my evenings feeling blank, going for walks, and trying to see Vienna for the marvel that I’d been told it was. It was, indeed, very pretty. I found my grandmother’s old home a half-hour outside of the city: a gray cinder-block building. Vienna has nothing for you.

On the last night of the conference I ran into one of the other speakers at the hotel bar, a writer. Over dinner he’d mentioned his next work would be about women’s voices, which are so often silenced: a statement he’d directed at the handful of women present as part of a lengthy monologue during which none of us had gotten the chance to speak.

Now at the bar he asked me, And what about you? What do you want to do?

I guess be a writer? I replied. At twenty-four I thought speaking with uncertainty was a sign of humility.

Then you’re not a writer, he said with conviction and took a long sip from his beer.

I laughed because I didn’t know how else to react.

A real writer, he insisted, doesn’t guess. If you’re not sure of it, don’t do it.

I remember his words much better than I do my own response, which was something along the lines of a small-voiced Now, hold on, you don’t know me, before he continued and I retreated into myself. Later, on my way to the elevator, a friend of his who had overheard the conversation caught up with me to say, Don’t worry. He’s always like this with the young ones.

The young ones. Anne Frank was thirteen when she began her diary. In the hotel room that night I stared out at Vienna while she talked to me with the voice I’d given her, one probably nothing like her own. How fucking ironic, she said, these men and their obsession with me. I imagined her taking the pins from her hair and holding them in her mouth as she fussed with her part, so that the next words came out muffled: What if I was alive, they wonder, and, like, their sexy student they could teach about existentialism, or whatever. But the moment they have an actual woman with actual thoughts trying to talk to them, they can’t see her. They can’t even—

I know, I told Anne Frank. I know.

You still have to read my diary, she said, putting her pins back in at a different angle.

I know, I told her. I will.

[bella-goths-wife]

Meanwhile with the Emerson’s

“Michael sweetie, be careful with those boxes” lucy shouted as the young boy from her car as she saw the boy drop her box full of picture frames hazardously.

“Sure mom “ Michael yelled back before over exaggeratedly rolling his eyes at his younger brother who lets out a laugh.

Neither sam nor Michael were happy about the move. Michael already missed his friends and his old life and sam missed his local comic book shops.

They were both going through it because of their parents divorce which was quickly followed by financial trouble on their mothers side, everything stressed them out lately.

They had been unpacking for 3 straight days and frankly they no longer cared to be careful. After being crammed by their grandpa about the rules and listening to him complain, they were completely drained.

They opened the door to unexpectedly find their grandpa sitting across from another older man who looked to be a similar if not older age to their grandpa. The man and their grandpa laughed loudly at some story about the olden days before noticing the two boys staring from the front door.

“Sam, Michael… you remember my old friend Paul” their grandpa stated as the boys racked their brains to remember the man

“I can’t say we do sorry” Michael answered after the silence became too awkward

“It’s fine boy, you were only young when we last saw each other” the man, Paul, reassured “your mother and my daughter were good friends and you and my granddaughter were good friends when you were younger”

“Oh I see” Michael answered politely before excusing himself and sam to finish packing.

Lucy rushed through the front door and spotted Paul before greeting him with a hug.

“Oh Paul it’s been so long” lucy exclaimed “how are you doing”

“Well for my age” Paul answered with a kind smile “your looking well dear”

“Oh Paul you flatter me” lucy gushed “what are you doing here”

“Just here for my weekly catch-up with the old grump, he can get a bit lonely without me y’know” Paul laughed out and Lucy joined in.

“Does Katie still live in the area? I’d love a catch up with her” lucy asked

The room fell silent as an unspoken tension entered. Paul looked down sadly before shaking his head to get out of his thoughts.

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen Katie for a while now” Paul said vaguely

“Oh I never expected her to move away” lucy exclaims surprised

“No, no one did” Paul said while having a far away look in his eyes “we’ll I better be off then, it was lovely to see you again lucy”

Paul rushed off through the door as the three looked for an explanation.

“What’s up with him grandpa?” Sam asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“He’s had a hard few years, Katie didn’t move away, she went missing” their grandpa explained “after 3 years of searching they pronounced her dead, poor guy still can’t accept it”

“What about her daughter, does she live with Paul?” Lucy asked curiously

“No she also went missing along with Katie and hasn’t been spotted since” grandpa sighed “Paul didn’t handle it well, you know how much he adored the kid”

“How awful” lucy sighs “what a shame, Katie was a wonderful person. Not a mean bone in her body”

“Very true” grandpa confirmed “Michael used to be quite good friends with Katie’s little girl if I can remember correctly”

“Was I?” Michael asked curiously

“Yes, I’m surprised you don’t remember her” lucy explained “she used to follow you around like a lost puppy”

“I can’t seem to remember” Micheal thinks for a moment “what was her name?”

“She was called (y/n)” lucy answered

[ritualove]

Walking through the picturesque streets of Cardinal Hill, you find Sabine Odedra, the 32 year old Artist / Hill Hardware Clerk originally from Los Angeles, CA. Living alongside them in such a small town, you know that they're inclusive and guarded, but what you might not know is that they are a human, and that they’re hiding something… ― Charlotte Aitchison, Lesbian, Woman, and She/They.

-Content Warnings: Drugs, Addiction, Mental Illness, Psychological and Physical Abuse, Neglect, Violence, Homelessness

stuff about sabine

Full name: Sabine Lauren Odedra

Gender: Woman

Pronouns: She/They

Age: 32

Birthday: November 24th, 1959

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Sexuality: Lesbian

Magic: Human

Occupation: Artist / Hill Hardware Clerk

shit thats happened to sabine

Daughter of an Indian mother, and a Scottish father, Sabine was born as a true red, white and blue blooded American citizen, having been born in Laguna Beach, California while her parents were on holiday. Upon their arrival at home, and through a process that was more arduous than it should have been for her father, her blood got a nice dash of regality with a new British citizenship.

Sabine’s early childhood was comfortably uneventful, only staying in Britain for 16 months, until her parents decided to move to Los Angeles, California. 

From a young age, Sabine experienced her fair share of bullying for her ethnicity. While she would say it never affected her, it did lead to her forming quite a thick skin. Because of this, she is quite guarded, stand-offish, and struggles to connect to other people. 

When Sabine was 6, her father was caught in a car crash that took his left forearm. He survived, and actually healed quite well, he was never the same. He had become addicted to the morphine that he was prescribed while in the hospital, and suffered from horrible phantom pain.

His addiction led to angry outbursts and financial instability. Sabine’s mother did not help, placing his father’s needs above hers. While the situation was rarely violent, it wasn’t unheard of. The calm aftermath turned from frantic apologising, to stern explanations of what Sabine should have done to avoid it.

Sabine lived in this for 4 and a half years, up until she called the police. While it did stop what was happening, it also resulted in her never seeing her parents again, something Sabine is still not come to terms with whether or not she regrets it.

Foster care was marginally better. Neglect was something Sabine had come to live with, but at least it wasn’t violent. This was also when Sabine learnt of her love of art.

She would frequently sneak out of home, school, or anywhere she was expected to be, and end up in museums and art galleries all over Los Angeles. She was especially enchanted by abstract-expressionism, including the likes of Jackson Pollock, Piet Mondrian, and Janet Sobel. 

At 16, Sabine willingly left the foster system, even if it led to her living on various couches for a couple of months. It was at this time she met one of her greatest friends, a person who let her move in and live with her. She felt a safety she hasn’t ever felt before. 

Working as a cleaner, Sabine started to make art of her own, following the abstract nature of the artists she admired. While she was never much of a success, she enjoyed it, and it led to her meeting Priscilla at 19. 

Priscilla was a semi-prolific art critic who was quite fond of Sabine’s work. Through encounters at various galleries and exhibits, they ended up forming a romantic relationship. 

Priscilla was toxic, manipulative, and abusive, however Sabine didn’t realise this for too long, and in her eyes Priscilla could do no wrong. 

Sabine was convinced by Priscilla that her friend was out to get her, and cut them off. She was convinced of that for most people in Sabine’s life. 

In turn, however, Sabine’s artistic career started to take off. Having exhibitions in many galleries through Priscilla’s connections, nothing major, yet.

Priscilla had convinced Sabine that all of her success was because of her, and that she would be nothing without her. Along with a hefty dosage of gaslighting, isolation, and actual drug use, Sabine felt like she was barely human.

When she was 26, she had the biggest opportunity of her career with an installation at a major art gallery, organised through Priscilla, of course. However, this didn’t end up turning out well.

After the failed installation, Sabine had found herself abandoned by Priscilla, never seeing her again after the exhibition. This left her to spiral in a bad way.

Sabine’s life felt like it had come to an end, her drug dependence fostered by Priscilla was left to tear her apart. Sabine doesn't remember the year 1986, or the entirety of her 27th year.

One normal day, after spilling a coffee on the ground, Sabine admitted herself into rehabilitation. While it didn’t help her kick her addiction fully, she was able to manage it. It also led to her being diagnosed with Bipolar disorder, along with a myriad of other conditions. 

After leaving, Sabine decided to leave town, and leave her old life behind. While she was packing, she found an unopened note from her old friend that she had cut off, detailing their move to Cardinal Hill. Sabine decided she may as well also go there, with no other prospects ahead of her.

Packing whatever she could in her car, she drove north, and eventually found her way to Cardinal Hill. She got a job that she is horribly underqualified for as a clerk at Hill Hardware. She even started to paint again.

She has been living in Cardinal Hill ever since. 

some other stuff i guess

Sabine’s favourite painting is Number 3 (1948) by Jackson Pollock

Sabine doesn't have a favourite medium to paint with, but she prefers canvas over anything else. Her bank account hates her for it.

While Sabine did struggle with her sexual identity, it wasn’t particularly with being a lesbian. She never had a person to open up to about love in any capacity until Priscilla, and she was hardly a positive role model. Talking to numerous therapists, especially in rehab, was when she actually discovered those details about herself, and what she felt about them.

While she has been living in Cardinal Hill for quite a long time, she still has quite a thick valley girl accent.

Her drug addiction has slowly faded away through time and effort. She is still fairly dependent on nicotine, and smokes weed frequently, however she is comfortable with this, compared to what she was going through before.

Sabine dresses like trash, in a semi-literal sense. Having a fairly grungy look, she almost entirely wears baggy clothing, minimal jewelry, and minimal makeup. She used to never wear makeup, but she recently started to experiment more to mixed success.

[gxhaode]

Chapter 40: me and you<3 (written + smau)

The car engine hummed quietly as you sat in Yeonjun's car, waiting to arrive at school. The morning was cold and dreary, with a hint of winter settling in, but despite the weather, you felt a sense of excitement in your chest. It was that time of year again, where each year group got to go on a school trip designated for a few days. Luckily, your year group had been given the chance to spend time at a ski resort nestled in the mountains, where you could spend your time skiing or exploring the small town nearby. Unfortunately, Eunchae, a year younger than the rest of your friend group, would have to wait until closer to the end of the year to attend her own year group's trip.

You and Yeonjun sat in comfortable silence, listening to the radio. Ever since that night Yeonjun had shown up at your house in the middle of the night, the two of you had undoubtedly grown closer, and it was safe to say that this new closeness brought you joy. As Yeonjun finally pulled over in front of the school, you got out and walked over to his truck to grab your luggage. But before you could even touch it, Yeonjun pulled it out himself, teasing you with a playful, "Did you bring your whole closet in there?" You playfully hit him, telling him to "shut up," and soon enough, the both of you started walking towards the coach.

As you got closer to the coach, you could see Yunjin, Soobin, and Chaewon waiting for you to arrive. The moment Yunjin caught sight of you, she immediately engulfed you in a big hug. You continued chatting with your friends, making plans for all the things you'd do once you arrived at the resort. But in your excitement, you failed to notice the gazes of two boys, watching from a distance.

Your attention was quickly taken away from your friends as your year group's leader began going over the rules of the trip. It was a tedious and painfully long 20-minute explanation, but finally, you and your friends were able to start putting away your luggage in the trunk of the coach.

As you struggled to lift your luggage into the trunk, Yunjin offered to help. "Yah, seriously, what the hell do you have in there? We're staying for a week, not a year," she teased. You brushed off her comment, telling her to just try harder but before she could argue back, the luggage was suddenly lifted up and put away inside the coach. Confused, you looked up to see Beomgyu grinning at you. "Morning," he said, and your face quickly heated up as you replied with a shy "Morning" of your own.

Yunjin was now left standing next to you awkwardly, staring at the two of you being all shy around each other. "I'm just gonna... yeah," she said before walking away to join Chaewon and Soobin, who were also watching the interaction between you and Beomgyu.

As you all starting getting inside the coach, Beomgyu grabbed your hand and led you to sit down together. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and nervousness as you sat down next to him. Yunjin sat down in front of you and Beomgyu with Chaewon, wiggling her brows at you as she caught your eye. You tried to hide your face, which was growing redder by the second.

Almost everyone was now settled in their seats; behind you and Beomgyu, Soobin was sitting with his friend Kai, Jake and Niki were sitting together towards the back of the bus, and Heeseung and Jay were situated somewhere in the middle. But there were two people who hadn't settled down yet: Sunghoon and Yeonjun.

"You're not seriously telling me to sit down with him," Sunghoon exclaimed, his dramatic personality on full display as he learned he would be paired with Yeonjun for the ride to the resort as there were only two vacant seats left. Yeonjun looked your way, his eyes locking with yours as he found you. You gave him a reassuring smile which he weakly returned.

The teacher, fed up with Sunghoon's theatrics, exclaimed, "For the love of God, Sunghoon, you have two options: either sit down here or you can ride in the trunk of the coach."

"Say less--" Sunghoon started to say before the teacher cut him off. "SIT DOWN," he commanded, and everyone let out a laugh at the sight in front of them. Sunghoon finally settled down, resigned to his fate.Finally, as everyone was settled down, the coach started to make its way towards the resort.”

As you sit in the coach, you gaze out the window and admire the winter landscape. The snow-covered fields stretch out as far as the eye can see, glistening like diamonds under the bright winter sun. The trees are adorned with delicate icicles, which shimmer in the light, adding a magical touch to the scene. The occasional snowdrift interrupts the smooth, rolling hills, creating fascinating patterns that evoke a sense of tranquility. The sky is a clear blue, contrasting sharply with the pristine white snow on the ground.

You were lost in your thoughts as you stared out of the coach window, admiring the breathtaking winter scenery. Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard Beomgyu calling out your name. You turned around to find him holding out an earbud to you. "I made a playlist for the two of us," he said with a shy smile. You took a peek at his phone, which showed a playlist named "me and you<3" on Spotify. As you scrolled through the songs, you couldn't help but feel your heart swell up with affection, noticing that some of the songs dated back to when you both were just 10 years old.

Feeling bolder than usual, you decided to lean your head against Beomgyu's shoulder as he hit play. His heart rate quickened as he felt your head on his shoulder, and he blushed a deep shade of red. But then he surprised you by resting his head against yours, and you both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Unbeknownst to you both, Yunjin had been busy taking pictures of the two of you, capturing the sweet and tender moment forever. As the coach made its way towards the ski resort, the snow-covered landscape whizzed past, but for you and Beomgyu, nothing else mattered except for the sweet melody of the music and the comfort of each other's company.

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