#and then i manually cut it all together. i told you its stupid

[bmpmp3]

SPEAKING of taking way too long on vsynth covers, i have restarted the same 3 voicevox humming covers like twice now because the software updated so drastically in like a couple months that by the time i was done the software sounded way better. im like scared of starting them a third time. what if the software updates with another game-changing function again.

[pappydaddy]

Nurse Simon (s.k)

A/N: I had absolutely no idea what to name this. This is just a quick fic I wrote up for Simon to kick off my Fear Street Masterlist so it's not very long, just a little blurb. I wrote this all last night at one o'clock in the morning because I couldn't sleep with my mouthguard in (I had to get it because I chew the inside of my cheeks and lip in my sleep when I'm anxious) and I just rolled with it. Anywho, I hope you lovelies enjoy this very random Simon fic💛!

TV Show/Movie: Fear Street: 1994

Pairing: Simon Kalivoda x Fem!Reader

Not Requested

Simon Kalivoda Taglist: @maybe-alistair

Warnings: Anxiety is mentioned, anxious tick is also mentioned (chewing the inside of your mouth). Not proofread, I'm going to read through all my fics so I will edit this better then.

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

Laying in bed, Y/N groaned, flipping over dramatically as she pleaded with her brain to shut up. Mouthing the uncomfortable mouthguard around in her mouth, she cursed her brain for making her this way. “Stupid Anxiety.” Her words were altered by the lisp the mouth guard gave her as she flopped onto her back once again, staring blankly up at the ceiling as the silver moonlight flowed against it.

She was still not used to having to wear the mouthguard her doctor instructed her to get after their last appointment. To make things worse, it was a random unopened mouth guard found at the bottom of her brother’s duffle bag. So there was no way of knowing the true cleanliness of the plastic guard (even though she boiled it three times just to be safe). Letting out yet another annoyed groan, Y/N forced her eyes shut, trying to manually shut her brain off so she could get at least a few hours of sleep before school tomorrow.

Just as her brain began to slow down, the unexpected draft suddenly invading her room kickstarted her brain right into overdrive. She froze, trying to figure out if the sheer exhaustion she was battling the past few weeks had finally gotten to her - causing her to hallucinate - or if there was actually a murderer climbing through her window right then and there. Both were possibilities in Shadyside.

The stumble of feet tripping over her knocked-over cardboard cutout of Nick Lachey made her blood run cold, but in a moment of sheer stupidity, Y/N shot straight up in her bed, flicking on her lamp to uncover her murderer. Stunned, she sat there blinking at her boyfriend as he blinked back at her, for some reason scared that he had been caught sneaking into her bedroom at three in the morning.

“What the fuck, Simon,” She exclaimed, her mouth guard making her talk with a lisp. She didn’t realize it was still in, instead, proceeding to grab her pillow from behind her and hurl it at her boyfriend. “You can’t do that shit in Shadyside, I thought you were a murderer.” She wished she hadn’t thrown her pillow at him since she had a strong desire right then to smack him repeatedly with it, but at the same time, she didn’t want to throw both her pillows.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized, holding one hand in the air as he bent down to grab her pillow from by his feet. “Sheesh woman, you have good aim,” He muttered, rubbing his nose after being hit square in the face by her uncomfortably hard pillow. “How do you even sleep on these things? When I sleepover, I just use my folded-up t-shirt, it’s softer than this shit.” He asked, tossing the pillow to its rightful place at the head of her bed.

“Well I’m sorry that with all the great technology of the 90s, we as a human race have failed to figure out the perfect pillow formula, Simon,” She grunted sarcastically, still forgetting about the mouth guard. “Now why are you here,” She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, inadvertently drawing her sex-crazed, always horny boyfriend’s attention to her boobs. “Simon!”

“Huh, what?” He snapped out of it before looking at her face, jumping back with a small scream.

“What?” She asked, looking behind her for whatever scared him, but there was nothing. Looking back at him, she saw the same look of terror on his face, his shaking finger pointed right at her.

“Don’t freak out babe, but there is something in your mouth,” He whispered, stepping hesitantly towards her bed, too scared to get close to it. “It’s all over your teeth and a tail thing is sticking out of it.” He pulled his top lip up, pointing to his top teeth before swooping it to indicate a tail.

Y/N rolled her eyes, pulling the mouth guard from her mouth, a string of saliva following it. She cringed, thankful their relationship was not new or that would have been mortifying. Simon had always been comfortable around her. At first, Y/N was more careful about what she did in front of him, not being her full self out of fear of him leaving, but being in a relationship with a person for over six months changes that. “It’s my mouth guard, you Baboon.” She told him, reaching over to place it in its case.

“Why do you need a mouth guard, scared of getting tackled in your sleep?” He asked, crawling onto her bed, flipping unceremoniously into the spot next to her, winching when he landed on the hard pillow.

“No, it’s so that I stop chewing the inside of my cheek when I’m anxious.” She barked, grumpy.

“Sheesh, someone’s a little grumpy.” Simon sucked in a breath, looking at her with gleaming eyes. She glared down at him, not wanting to admit that the wide, sparkling blue eyes he was giving her broke through her grumpiness instantly.

“No shit, I was just about to fall asleep when you came falling through my window, scaring me half to death and now you won’t stop talking,” She ranted, pointing at the still open window. “And you didn’t even have half the decency to close the window after you.”

He rolled off the bed, walking over to shut and lock the window. “Well, let’s go to bed together. Might help you sleep, then we can sleep in tomorrow morning.” He suggested, picking up the cardboard cutout, standing it in the corner of the room next to her extensive Cassette and CD collection.

“We have school in the morning.” She reminded him, not looking up from where she was fixing her bedsheets from him messing them up when he rolled out of the bed.

“You’re such a nerd that you want to go to school on Thanksgiving?” Simon asked jokingly, knowing full well that her exhausted brain completely forgot what day it was tomorrow (or today since it was the morning already).

“Shit-“

“It’s all right, I have the day off so I’ll nurse you back to sanity, babe.” He pretended he was doing her a great justice as he flopped back down beside her, pulling her down with him, pressing her back flush against his front.

“That’s not an overly comforting thought,” She grumbled, but he simply shushed her, petting her hair. “Fine,” She gave up, accepting it. “But the only reason I am not chewing you out for making me think I was gonna get murdered is the fact that I am too tired to argue.” Her words slowly became slower and more slurred as being wrapped in Simon’s arms made her feel protected and less anxious, basically shutting her brain off with the feeling of his touch.

Mustering up enough strength to battle against the sudden wave of sleepiness, she reached to turn her lamp off, bathing them in darkness that only the silver moonbeams broke up. Seconds later, her eyelids drooped, cutting out all light. “I love you, Simon.” She breathed out, forgetting her mouthguard.

“I love you too, babe,” He responded. She could feel him reaching over her to her nightstand, but she was too tired to care. “I love you so much that I can’t let you forget your terrifying mouthguard.” He whispered, thinking she was asleep. Gently, he managed to wiggle the mouthguard into her mouth before settling back down behind her pulling her farther into him, snuggling his face into the back of her neck affectionately.

[starfleetbotanist]

Physician, Heal Thyself (But Not Always)

🌹

It had been stupid, even he would admit that. Academy students were typically supposed to avoid bar fights. But Cupcake had been talking smack, and he'd had a few too many, so he had allowed the inevitable to happen. What he hadn't expected was for six other cadets to decide to use him as a punching bag. More surprising, though, was Bones.

He'd vaguely heard Bones trying to reason with his assailants before the roar in his ears drowned him out, but a fist to the stomach is a much more pressing matter than a pacifist doctor trying to tell you logic you don't want to hear, so he'd more or less written him off. That is, until he saw a cadet fall at his feet and turned to see his friend wading- and punching- through the crowd towards him.

He leapt at one of Cupcakes cronies as he landed a solid punch to Bones' face, causing the man to stumble back, a protectiveness he hadn't felt since Tarsus rising in him. But Bones regained his footing and gave as good as he'd gotten, before finally reaching Jim. Then he grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and dragged him from the bar, much like a mama cat with her errant kitten.

He stared at him, stunned, the entire way back to their room, Bones loudly scolding him about safety and rules the whole way, wiping blood from his now evidently broken nose. A sick feeling overcame him. What happened now? Was Bones going to leave, like Sam had?

He found himself dumped on the couch in an ungraceful heap as Bones' angry footsteps carried him to the bathroom and back. He sat on the coffee table, and Jim was relieved to see his medkit resting on his knee. He was (mostly) a model patient as Bones scrubbed at his cuts with antiseptic before using the portable dermal regen.

"You've got too damn good a brain, Jim, to go and get it knocked around by fools like that, y'hear me?"

He blinked. No, he hadn't heard him. Upon realizing that, Bones rolled his eyes before reaching over and lightly slapping his head- a move too gentle to actually hurt, and which he immediately followed with an affectionate ruffle of Jim's hair.

"This, your brain. Use it."

With that, he got up and headed back to the bathroom. Jim followed on his heels.

"That's it? You're not... More angry?"

"Jim, I knew when I signed up to be your friend there'd be risks. If a bar fight's the most danger we get in together I'd be surprised."

"But you got hurt!"

"Yeah, and you owe me for that."

He stopped in front of the mirror, opening his case again and finding the regen and a hypo. He reached up and, with a grunt, popped his nose back into place. He swore as he turned the hypo on himself, eyes watering.

"Scratch that, you really owe me," he said through gritted teeth.

"Sorry," Jim replied. He meant it. He hated seeing Bones hurt.

"Just-- use your head next time. Okay?"

"Yeah-- yeah, okay, Bones. I promise."

"Good." He washed the blood on his face and hands before turning back to face him. "Then we can forget about it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Okay. Thanks, Bones."

"Anytime, kid."

🌹

Nyota held her wrist to her chest, waiting in the academy clinic. She had hurt it in combat class that day, but thankfully not too badly. The clinic was understaffed that day, and she had told Christine she was fine waiting. It was just her and two other cadets in the waiting room, after all. Not everyone was quite so patient, though.

One of the others, a command cadet, was complaining loudly, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, and bouncing his leg in agitation.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" He asked when Christine opened the door to call another patient back.

"Doctor McCoy or Doctor M'Benga will be able to see you soon, sir," she answered. "We will get to you as soon as we can."

Nyota prided herself on her ability to read people, and what she saw from the other cadet was not encouraging. He jumped up to his feet, crossing over to Christine with surprising speed.

"You can't just come back here!" She said, positioning herself between the cadet and the door.

"Watch me!" He snapped, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her out of the way.

Nyota rose, but she didn't need to interfere. Just as he was stepping into the hallway, he ran face first into Doctor McCoy, summoned by Christine's shout.

"Didn't you hear the lady? She said you ain't gettin' in here!" He snapped, though Nyota could see him running a clinical eye over the cadet. "Easy now. Looks like you're in withdrawal. How many stims have you taken?"

"None of your business!" The man snapped, and before anyone could stop him, caught McCoy on the side of the head with a right cross.

Christine leapt in, then, getting him into a safe hold and grabbing his arm to pin behind him as McCoy called for M'Benga to bring a sedative.

"Dammit," he swore as the other doctor handed him the hypo. "Sucker punches harder than he looks."

Once he was sedated, security called, and a treatment plan discussed for the over-use of stims to get him through the command courses, the cadet was taken to Starfleet Medical for a proper detox.

"You okay, Chris?" McCoy asked. Nyota had come to Christine's side as the cadet was taken away. The two had been friends since their first year.

"Just fine," she promised. "Didn't even fall. What about you?"

"I'll be fine," he shrugged. "Happens sometimes. Nothin' the regen can't fix."

"You might want to get on that before it swells too much, Len" M'Benga said. "I can finish up here."

"It'll hold," McCoy insisted. "But you can take that patient we just called back. C'mon, Ny, I only need one eye to see the swelling in that wrist."

"Only if you fix your eye, too," she threatened, following him back to one of the rooms.

"Wrist first," he said, taking out his tricorder. She answered his questions, let him strap the regen unit to her, and stared him into submission until he began treating himself while they waited.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She asked once they had both finished.

"Ain't that my line? Any residual pain?"

"None, thank you. Now answer me."

"I'm okay," he promised. "Not my first rodeo with someone hyped up on stims, and it won't be my last."

"Can't say I envy you."

"Yeah, well, it happens. Now, you be careful in that combat class, okay? Stretch right, and be careful which moves you use on which partners."

"I will. Thanks, Len."

"Sure, Ny."

🌹

"Scotty."

He looked up from the manual he was reading at the sound from the bathroom door.

"Ah, Doc! What can I do for you?"

"You can take a break from straining your eyes and come have some coffee."

He laughed, lowering the PADD he was reading from.

"Aye, that sounds good. What're you doin' up so early?"

He followed him into his room, where he could smell fresh coffee brewing. Like many things, McCoy seemed to prefer real coffee, and while Scotty tended to be more of a tea man, he never turned down real foods or drinks.

"Haven't been to bed yet- don't tell Jim or Spock."

He poured them both a cup, handing Scotty one of them and motioning to the sugar and creamer he'd set out.

"Aren't you the one always telling the crew the importance of a good sleep schedule?"

"Yeah, and that's why I'm askin' you not to tell on me," he grinned.

"Can you not sleep?"

"No, not really. I've been goin' over that last accident in Engineering. I've written up a few training proposals, and wanted you to read through them and tell me which you think'll work best before I submit them."

"Have you been working on this all day?"

"Since my shift ended, yeah."

Scotty saw him take two tiny pills from a bottle on his desk and take them before rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry, headache. Ibuprofen. Been at this a little too long, I think."

"Why push yourself like this, then?"

He scanned the proposals, an interdisciplinary first aid course specific to Engineering and the various injuries and accidents that could happen, a triage proposal to better prepare medical staff for what to expect when an accident is called in, and new safety guidelines and equipment inspection schedules.

"Well, every second counts, you know that. The sooner we get this smoothed out, the better. It could be life or death, and I'm not about to play games there."

"You never do," Scotty grinned, picking up a stylus and making a few notes. "I like this so far. I hope you made a lot of coffee, because I have a few ideas, too."

"I hoped you would," McCoy grinned, and the two sat down to begin work.

🌹

"You called me, Doc?"

"Mr Sulu, perfect timing!"

Doctor McCoy was standing by a selection of plants, studying them intensely.

"The botany department sent these up. They're medicinal. But the labels got mixed up, and we don't really know what's what."

"That's unusual," Sulu grinned, looking down at the selection. "She's usually more organized when making deliveries."

He began to catalogue the plants, calling to mind their uses.

"Fever few, plantain... Several of these are for stopping bleeding."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping for. We're training our medics to learn other ways to heal in the field."

"Good idea," Sulu nodded, fixing the lables.

"Thank you for the help," McCoy grinned. "Oh, Lieutenant Lyle brought another plant, but I'm not sure what it does. It was bigger than the others, so I set it in the office. Little bastard scratched me, too."

Sulu laughed, plucking a plantain leaf and handing it to him.

"Chew on that for a minute and put it on the cut, that will help."

He heard McCoy's thanks as he went into the office. He gasped. On the desk was a rare Andorian Passionflower- spiked where its Earth counterpart was not, and blue instead of purple. In place of a label there was a note, and he recognized the handwriting.

"Ben?"

"Surprise," McCoy said, stepping in. He had the chewed leaf against his finger. "We were asked not to tell you anything."

He opened the envelope. It was handwritten anniversary card. He smiled, warmth filling him.

"Happy anniversary, you two," McCoy said, patting him on the shoulder. "There's minutes on my computer for subspace communication. He's waiting for you to call."

"Thanks, Doc," he answered, wiping sudden tears from his eyes.

McCoy patted his back again before leaving him to his call.

🌹

"Doctor?"

"Mhm?"

"Why did you do it?"

McCoy looked at Chekov, who was eyeing wound on his arm with deep concern.

"Reflex," he lied, finishing ripping his uniform shirt into bandages. He turned his eyes away, focusing on tying off and tending the wound until the ion storm ended and they could contact the Enterprise.

"Captain Kirk is right. You are a terrible liar, sir."

He snorted, tying off his makeshift sling. He'd taken a rather severe cut from a spear from one of the inhabitants of this supposedly uninhabited planet. The spear had been aimed at Chekov, but he had managed to push the kid out of the way just in time.

"Captain Kirk can mind his own business."

"Doctor..."

McCoy sighed, leaning back against the cave wall. Chekov joined him, still looking at him with wide-eyed worry.

"You remind me of Joanna."

"Huh?"

"I did it because you remind me of Joanna."

"Who is Joanna?"

"My daughter. My whole world. I don't get to see her often, but she's my pride and joy."

"And I remind you of her?"

"Yeah. Can't explain it. It's probably because you're so young, or some misplaced guilt about not being there to protect JoJo that makes me want to look out for you instead that the psychologist really doesn't wanna think too much about."

He shrugged, closing his eyes.

"That, and I'm a doctor, and your senior officer. Not gonna let you get hurt if I can help it."

Running for their lives had worn him out, it seems. Chekov studied him for a moment before placing his head on his shoulder.

"You are very much the papa I always wanted. My grandmother, she told me stories about him. He was a good man. If he was... If I had known him longer, I would have liked for him to be like you, Doctor."

He felt a strong hand ruffle his hair.

"Get some rest, kid. I'll keep watch."

Chekov smiled, allowing his own eyes to close. He fell asleep wondering if McCoy would laugh or be angry that he had become, as the captain said, a "mama bear."

🌹

Spock stood beside Captain Kirk's hospital bed, arms folded behind his back. He had come to check on the progress of McCoy's serum on their friend. But, also, he was here to check on McCoy. Nyota had expressed worry over him that morning after visiting.

"You want a seat, Spock?"

He turned as the doctor entered the room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a PADD in the other.

"No, thank you, Doctor."

McCoy set the coffee aside, moving to the bed to compare the data on the PADD to the biobed readings. As Spock watched him, he began to really notice the state the doctor was in. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed in dark circles, his hair sticking at odd angles, as though he had run his fingers through it many times. He hadn't shaved, and was looking rather gaunt.

"When did you last sleep, Leonard?"

"Does it matter, Spock?"

"I think it would matter to the captain. And... I admit to a concern, as well."

"May miracles never cease," McCoy muttered, and they both knew what miracle he was praying for.

"Doctor, you must rest. The captain's status is unlikely to change in the time it would take for you to eat and sleep."

"I can't, Spock. Not right now."

"Why?"

"Because he needs me."

"He needs all of you, Leonard. Not a shell of yourself."

McCoy's shoulders sagged at that.

"I don't want to leave him," he admitted. "I promised I wouldn't leave him."

"You do not have to leave him. You could bring a cot into this room, perhaps. Shower in the en suite, and eat the meals Nyota has been bringing you."

"When I try to sleep, Spock, all I can see is him in that chamber. In that damn body bag in my medbay. It... It hurts, Spock. In a very human way, it hurts. It- this grief, it's like a wound, Spock."

"As you so often tell me, Leonard, you are a doctor. You treat wounds, better than most. You are healing the captain. The best way to heal that grief is to continue to do so. But if you damage yourself with overwork, you will not be able to care for him to the best of your abilities."

McCoy was silent for a moment before nodding.

"You're right... Thank you, Spock."

"It is... My pleasure, Leonard."

When he visited again that night, he found McCoy asleep on a cot not far from Kirk's bed, PADD still in hand. He had showered and shaved. The plate Nyota had sent him was now empty, and someone, presumably nurse Chapel, had covered him with the knitted blanket that he usually kept on the couch in his office.

Spock allowed himself to feel relieved, and quietly retreated, turning down the lights as he did so. The next morning, Kirk woke up.

🌹

"He may be a little disoriented when he wakes up," M'Benga told the assembled officers. "It was touch and go there, and we nearly lost him a few times. But I do believe he will make a full recovery."

"You are sure?" Chekov asked, his face pale. Sulu had his hand on his back for support.

"Yes. He is stable. Now all he needs is rest."

"Thank you," Kirk spoke up, gripping one of McCoy's hands from his place beside his bed. "Bones couldn't have been in better hands."

"You remind him of that when he wakes up," M'Benga laughed quietly, his calm manner helping ease the tension in the crowd. "You can talk to him now, too. Even if he doesn't hear you, it'll help him to have friendly voices around."

Scotty coughed to hide a relieved sniffle, and patted Kirk's shoulder amiably.

"Why don't you start, Captain?"

Kirk nodded, thinking.

"Bones, you know we all love you, right? So you've gotta come back to us. It's not the same without you here yelling at me."

"Indeed, Doctor. Your colorful metaphors are... Missed." Spock looked down the line of visitors expectantly.

"Da, and you promised to let us talk to Joanna next time she called you!" Chekov watched the sleeping man eagerly.

"Yeah, she and Demora are going to space camp together," Sulu pitched in. "If you don't wake up soon, who's gonna tell them how dangerous it is?"

Nyota laughed at that, and everyone (save Spock) grinned.

"Aye, Len. And you're gonna have to be the one to tell Jaylah what happened, you know," Scotty said. "Otherwise the lassie's likely to steal a ship and come all the way from Earth to make sure you aren't still hurt."

"What about you, Uhura?" Kirk asked. "You know how he likes to hear you sing. Why don't you sing one of his favorites."

"Good idea," she nodded, thinking. "I know just the one."

Soon the medbay was filled with her soft, comforting voice.

"I'll keep you safe..."

🌹 This was a long one! Thank you for reading! This was based on a prompt by @hlabounty96 ! I hope you enjoyed! 🌹

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 5]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: Castle Byers scene. Meaning lots of angst, self destructive thinking, and misguided self punishing

📝: Started making it... had a break down [fr tho]... ¯\_( ツ)_/¯ bon appetite! 👩‍🍳 [edit: told ya 💀]

🔑: underlined and bold means they're talking in Russian

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Warm rain spits from the angry blanket of clouds, falling through the sky and drenching Mike and Lucas to the bone despite their rain gear. Mud splashed up onto their ankles and drenching their socks as their bikes skid up the Byers driveway. Without a thought, they throw their bikes into the ground before racing up onto Will's porch.

It had taken far longer than they cared to admit to decide to go and find Will. To make things right.

Mike was realizing far too late just how right Will was. He didn't even recognize himself anymore. El had become such an important piece of his life, but he hadnt realized until now just how much he let his feelings screw up all the wonderful things he had in his life to begin with. He missed how things used to be. With the party. With Y/n.

With Will.

All the anger he feels towards himself is channeled into his fist banging on Will's front door.

"Will!" He cries. "Will, I'm sorry, man, alright? I was being a total asshole. I've been a total asshole. Please, can you just come outside and we'll talk?"

No answer but the thundering clouds rolling over their heads. He pounds on the door again.

"Will!"

Lucas hurries to the window, cupping his palms against the glass and peering inside. He knocks on the window, doing his best to peer around the curtains and furniture obscuring his sight.

"Hey, Will! Come on, man! We're sorry!" He knocks again, growing nervous. "Will!"

||𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

'Sorry, man. Curfew,'

'For the last time, Will! No!'

-'What, so I should be locked up all day, too?'

-'Maybe!'

Huffing, I throw the wrinkling comic book into the old mattress. Nothing was working. Nothing was enough to distract me. I was too angry.

I looked down at the withered cover of the comic book I had just thrown, my chest sinking further. Dustin's X-MEN 134, he gave it to me after that night at the hospital.

Thinking about it now, I can't even remember the last time all seven of us hung out as a party. I don't count Dustin's welcome home. Mike and El couldn't be bothered to pretend to care, and Lucas and Max kept ganging up on Dustin. Dustin was understandably upset and not wanting anything to do with us, leaving just me and Y/n. And now, not even her.

How did everything get so messed up?

What was I doing wrong?

I looked around the walls of Castle Byers, a lump forming in my throat. Everywhere I looked, I was painfully reminded of the truth.

My friends don't want me anymore.

I keep telling myself that's bullshit, but the more I do the more it feels like a lie.

They're moving on without me.

Friends don't just forget you, I reasoned. They don't just abandon you.

Then why were they doing just that?

Maybe they weren't my real friends. Friend's don't do what they did.

Everything hurts. I've been telling myself I'm fine, that I'm overreacting but I don't think I am anymore. I'm just tired. I'm tried of feeling like this. I'm tired of being pushed aside, especially when I need them most.

They didn't use to be like this, I tell myself. But somehow that just hurts more.

I had people that cared about me, who were willing to risk their lives to save me. Twice.

And now they don't give me a second thought.

I was shaking now, but I don't think it's from the rain. The storm had finally reached me, seeping through the walls and dampening my clothes and hair.

Another painful realization hits me; Castle Byers looked just like it had the night I built it with Jonathan.

Even though this night was so much like the night Castle Byers was constructed, it couldn't feel more different. More unfamiliar.

My teary eyes find my first D&D manual, propped up against the wooden walls, soaked and forgotten like me. I'm painfully reminded of the night all this started.

I remember it as clear as if it were yesterday, and yet it feels light-years away.

'Something is coming. Something hungry for blood.'

《•••》

"What is it?" I ask, edging further off my seat.

This time it's Dustin who cuts in, "What if it's the Demogorgon?"

Oh, great, I think, throwing myself back in my seat with an anxious huff. We're not ready to face a Demogorgon!

Beside me, Y/n draws in an equally anxious breath.

"Oh, Jesus, we're so screwed if it's the Demogorgon." Dustin rambles on.

"It's not the Demogorgon." Lucas says, assuring us all.

《•••》

My eyes trail to one of my favorite drawings; Will The Wise and Y/C/N. The one I had made when Y/n was first constructing her character. The one that hung in my room for so long, always cheering me up. The one that gave my mom the idea to help me communicate my now memories.

The one that Y/n always threatened to steal for her room as often and as recently as her last visit. The memory of her warm touch lingering on my cheeks burned as bright as the blush raging over me that night so long ago.

'Wait a minute... Did you guys hear that?'

《•••》

The anticipated silence in the basement left by Mike grew louder as he leaned in.

"Boom..." His voice grows louder. "Boom," Louder.

"BOOM!" Mike bellows, slamming his hands against the flat surface, rattling the table and all its contents.

The sudden noise was enough to make me and my friends jump, as was the sudden hand grabbing for my own.

All the more startled, I look down to see Y/n's hand grasping my arm like a lifeline. I feel my skin flush, my cheeks surely reddened as I catch her eye. She looked flustered, smiling a small smile before retracting her hand and returning to the game, unknowingly leaving me in a dizzying blush.

•••

"Will, your action!"

"Fireball!" I cry, throwing the dice to the board with a satisfying rattle.

"FOURTEEN!"

My friends erupt into cheers, all around me as we celebrate together.

"BOOM!"

"Direct hit!" Mike cries, beaming proudly at me across the table. "Will the Wise's fireball hits the Thessalhydra!"

Our excited shouts fill the basement, each and every one of us victorious. My smile can't get any wider when I feel Y/n's hands grip my shoulder and begin shaking me excitedly. We both laugh, feeling on top of the world with our cheering friends by our side.

《•••》

Pained, I look away only to find the proof right in front of my eyes. My three favorite pictures; all of them, my friends and me — happy — staring back up at me.

Our photo from the science fair, encased in the popsicle frame Mike had made bearing all of our characters' names along the side. I brought it here, I brought all my favorite pictures here, to Castle Byers — to my safe place — cause that's where I knew I would need their comfort the most.

But as I look at them now, all I feel is bitterness and pain. I'm reminded of just how much everything has changed.

The science fair was a reminder of the good thing I had before that night. Before everything started.

Y/n and me, at the Snow Ball. My arm wrapped around her, the two of us grinning nervously. It wasn't just the night Y/n and I had first kissed, it was also the first night I felt like the Party had gotten bigger. All of us, Max and El included had been happy. Everyone was laughing and getting along, the happiest we had ever been — the strongest. But now I see it was really the beginning of the end.

It had been coming for so long and I didn't even see it.

And Halloween. Last Halloween, everything had been perfect. For just one. Single. Stupid. Moment.

Shakily, I pick up the photo Jonathan had taken of all of us in our costumes. We were all smiling.

We were all happy.

'Who you gonna call?'

《•••》

I beam as I see my friends pulling up, looking just as excited as I felt.

"Ghostbusters!" I finish, watching as they look me over, happily surprised.

"Hey, Spengler!"

"Egon! Looking sharp!" Y/n grinned, pulling me into a quick hug.

"Janine!" I beam. "Venkman!"

《•••》

As I look at it now, my eyes and throat stinging as Mike's voice echoes louder than ever in my mind.

'I mean, what did you think, really?'

What was I thinking?

'That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day, playing games for the rest of our lives?'

How could I have been so naive?

'it's not my fault you can't move on!'

How could I have been so... so...

"Stupid." I tell myself, my voice splitting in my throat. "So stupid!"

My hands trembling violently with rage and my own sobs, I tear the photo in two.

I was stupid. Stupid to believe I was as big of a priority to them as they were to me.

I rip the drawing off the walls, tearing it to pieces.

Stupid to ever think they'd still cared about me.

I rip and tear and crumple up every meaningful piece of them in an act of defiance.

They won't care. I think bitterly. They won't miss these, they probably won't even notice. Not like I would have.

I grab my bat.

How could I be so fucking stupid?!

Why was I hanging on to all this stuff anyway? Why was I clinging so tightly to something that was already gone?

Because I've been stupid. I'm just some stupid kid that won't grow up.

I storm out of the tent.

I'm just some stupid kid who can't grow up. They made that perfectly clear.

I stand in the pouring rain now, heart thundering in my chest as I stare at the piece of my childhood I couldn't let go of.

So. Stupid.

And I start swinging.

I swing and I swing, with an anger and frustration I've never felt so intensely until now. It's been building my whole life and I didn't realize it. Every swing is simultaneously the best and the worst I've ever felt. Every slur I've heard from my dad, from Troy, is channeled into the bat. Every ounce of frustration and fear I felt since I came back from the Upside Down that nobody understood. Every laugh, every jeer, every single moment I've felt alone is channeled into the destruction of the one place on this earth I ever felt safe.

But it holds up and in the back of my mind, I hear Jonathan again.

'And it took so long cause you were so bad at hammering'

And I start kicking, and I start ripping the walls apart until it's a crumpled heap and I stop.

The sight of Castle Byers in ruins breaks me even harder.

I didn't want it gone, but I did it anyway. That part of me that was angry at myself, told me to keep going. Cause that's what I deserved for believing things could stay the same even though deep down I knew that wasn't true.

I finally stop when I see the castle in ruins.

Exhausted, I collapse to the ground beside the wreckage.

As I sob, stewing in the pain and overwhelming grief I felt I was drowning in, the rain pours heavily over me, soaking me to the bone.

Just as it had the night it had been built.

And now, Castle Byers was gone.

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

When blue meets yellow in the west.

8:41 pm. It was almost time.

The yellow and blue clock hands were illuminated by a flash of lightning, streaking through the mall's skylight. Starcourt had long since closed, and the real activity was just beginning.

Stationed at the loading docks near the back, standing under the worst storm Hawkins had seen in years were two guards. They watched through the downpour as the scheduled truck backed its way under the concrete cover.

And perched on the roof, just out of sight sat Dustin, Steve, and Robin, scouting from under their rain slickers.

"Look for Imperial Panda and Kauffman Shoes," she reminds them.

Steve wipes away at the rain dripping into his eyes, squinting even further to get a clear picture Dustin already has.

A man in a bright yellow raincoat emerges from a hidden side door, a trolley cart full of packages marked with a familiar insignia.

"They're with that whistling guy!" Dustin says suddenly, motioning out from behind the only pair of binoculars.

"What do you think's in there?" Steve wonders, eyeing the Lynx logo on the back of their many yellow jackets.

"Guns? Bombs?"

"Chemical weapons?" Robin tries.

"Whatever it is," Dustin says, now cautiously studying the heavily armed guards. He had to admit to himself, they really weren't trying very hard not to be obvious. "they're armed to the teeth."

"Great," comes Steve's sarcastic voice, once again rubbing at his eyes, silently wishing he had brought a coat with a hood. "That's great."

A soft clink that would have been obnoxiously loud had it not been for the noise of the storm brings their attention to another guard. Having pressed a glowing button on a small control panel, two large metal doors swung open to reveal another room.

"Hey!" Robin says, squinting through the rain as she tries to get a glimpse without the binoculars. "What's in there?"

"It's just more boxes,"

"Let me check it out," Steve says, grabbing for the binoculars.

Huffing, Dustin fought to keep his grip on the binoculars. "No, I'm still looking!"

"Lemme see it!"

"Hang on!"

Steve's grip had loosened with the slick of rain, sending the binoculars knocking into the cement. The issue had already been forgotten when they saw the guards' attention had been stolen. Simultaneously, the three of them dove to the ground in a panic.

The guards began to pace, grip on their firearms tightening as they gaze out into the night. Seeing nothing but empty roofs and angry skies above them, they unknowingly miss the trio huddled against the roof wall.

Just out of sight to the right of Dustin, Steve and Robin sat panting as they try to calm their racing hearts. Way too close a call. And neither of them had realized what they had done until their eyes landed on their entertained hands. Just as quickly as they notice, they break apart, embarrassed.

Down below, the guards were now on high alert. One of them, unable to shake the feeling of being watched, stalked into the rain with his eyes deadset on an open spot on the roof. He was certain he heard the noise come from that direction.

"Stay here!" He orders to the other. "Watch the door!"

Reluctantly, his partner complies and inches back towards the doors.

When he finally reaches the top of the stairwell, he hesitates only a moment before he throws the roof door open, gun cocked.

But he was met only with steady claps of thunder and an empty roof.

Had he been wrong?

Or had he just missed whoever had been here?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Clothes drenched, their shoes sloshing underneath their feet like sponges, Steve, Robin, and Dustin slip out from the shadows and make their way throughout the back halls behind the scenes of Starcourt.

"Well, I think we sound your Russians," Robin quips.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Black Trans Travel Fund:

For The Gworls:

"The Black Trans Travel Fund is a grassroots, Black Trans led Collective, providing Black Transgender Women with financial and material resources needed to remove barriers to self-determining and accessing safer travel options"

Trans Women Of Color Collective Fund

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Founded by a Black transgender woman and a Black nonbinary person, For The Gworls raises money to help provide funds for rent and gender affirming surgeries for Black transgender people across the country."

Taglist:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @peeperparkour ​ @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes ​ @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 ​ @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl ​ @nightbu-g @lozzybowe @gizmofishersupremacy @spiderbitch69420

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Love is like a tornado...

For the dearest @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321​ 💟💟💟

Hope you’ll like the story...

"Man, that sucks..."

"Yeah, the situation is desperate!"

The Weasley twins sigh as they watch two of their favorite teachers glancing at each other but not daring to say a single word.

On one side, there is Professor Remus Lupin, the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. Compassionate, kind, encouraging, and understanding, he is among the most popular teachers in the school.

On the other side, there is (Y/N) (L/N), the new Charms lecturer. She is not only beautiful but also passionate, supportive, charismatic, and gifted. Every Hogwarts students are keen to attend her courses: even the Slytherins are respectful towards her. 

Besides, she is the youngest member of the professors' staff. 

However, what makes Fred and George Weasley upset is that the two teachers seem fond of each other, but no one tries to make the first step.

"They could be the most popular couple in school!"

"You mean the most popular couple in the history of the school!"

"You got the point, Fred!"

Sitting next to them, Ron, Hermione, and Harry share their opinion.

"They are so cute together! But it would not be fair to force them!" breathes Hermione.

"Hermione is right. Likewise, Remus is not at ease with his lycanthropic condition: I'm sure he is scared to hurt her!" advises Harry.

"Sure. And, moreover, Lupin is so clumsy when it comes to ladies!" grins Ron.

"Watch your words, Little Ronnie! I'm sure you don't want your friends to know about the emptiness of your love life!" sneers George, making his twin laugh.

Grumbling some curses against his "stupid brothers," Ron eats a piece of cake while asking:

"Which subject do we have after lunch?"

"Let me see... Ah, we have a Charms lesson!"

As they hear it, a Cheshire grin appears on the Weasley twins' faces.

"Do you hear that, Georgie?"

"Oh yeah, Freddie, I heard it!"

Under the worried look of their younger brother and his friends, George and Fred prepare their new trick to "help" their beloved teachers...

Later in the afternoon, in Charms classroom.

In her classroom, (Y/N) tries to explain a new spell to her students.

"Remember, ladies and gentlemen: your gesture must be short but firm! Come on, try!"

Both the Gryffindor and Slytherin students try their best to achieve the exercise. Some manage to reach their objective while others struggle.Their professor watches them with a kind smile on her face. She really enjoys teaching at Hogwarts: the pupils are interested and willing to work.

Furthermore, in her class, there is no rivalry between the houses. She encourages solidarity and group works between the students, no matter which house they belong to. 

That's why she appreciates seeing Hermione, one of her favorite students, working with Draco Malfoy without hostility. She even notices that the two seem to get along now, to Ron Weasley's dismay. 

Speaking of the latter, he nearly turns one of his classmates into a chair!

"Watch out, Ron!"

"Sorry, Seamus!"

"Focus on your gesture, Mr. Weasley!" she reminds him kindly.

"Yes, sorry, Mrs. (L/N)!"

The class goes well until the bell rings.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen! For next time, I want you to practice all the charms on page 214 of your manual! See you on Friday!"

Once the students leave her classroom, she packs her belongings and heads to her office. On the way, she bumps into someone and lets her book falling.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I did not see you..."

"I should be the one apologizing, (Y/N)"

The young woman lifts her head, and she recognizes Remus. For a moment, they cannot help but look at each other with some fascination. Shyly, the werewolf hands to her some of her books.

"Thank you for helping me, Remus!"

"It's my pleasure. I'll be careful next time!"

"Don't be upset about it. It's okay!"

"I... I'm glad to hear that!" whispered the werewolf, slightly blushing.

Unbeknownst to them, the Weasley twins observe them, hidden in a corner.

"By Merlin, it fails! They are this close to kissing, I swear! Ugh, it's soooo frustrating!"

"I told you that the Tumbling spell would not work!"

"Quiet, Fred! Unless you have another idea..."

"Just let me think about it, Georgie... Hooray! I have a plan!"

"What is it?"

Fred picks up his spellbook and points to a segment.

"I think this would help us!"

Looking at the spell, George beams.

"Oh, that's what I call a brilliant idea! The best prank we ever did!"

"You can say it, bro! Now, let's prepare it! We have to do it tomorrow: I hear Ron revising his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson for tomorrow! It's our only chance !"

The following day.

Sitting at her office, (Y/N) prepares the lesson for the Year 1 Ravenclaw students. She smiles while thinking about those little wizards and witches who look at her with admirative eyes. They are so cute! 

To be honest, they are cuter when they interact with Remus. She loves to see him being gentle with the younglings and encouraging their efforts. She can say that her colleague would be a wonderful father...

Suddenly, a loud noise wakes her up from her daydream. She looks at her door that shatters because of a tornado.

"By Merlin, what is that?"

As she prepares to cast a spell, the tornado charges at her and imprisons the young witch in its fury. 

Mangled by the tornado, (Y/N) cannot stop it, losing her wand in the process. And carried by the wind, she soon crosses the corridors, under the astonished eyes of the teachers and students.

Meanwhile, in Remus's classroom, the students listen to their teacher.

"As you know, Banshee's main power is her scream. It's so powerful that it can drive her victims mad! It can also lead to their death!"

"How loud it can be?" asked Draco.

"Well, according to Newt Scamander, you can hear her wails from a couple of miles away!"

At the same time, the students jumped on their seats as they hear a piercing shriek.

"BANSHEE! SHE IS HERE!" panicked Neville.

"I assure you, young Mister Longbottom, that it is not a supernatural scream. On the contrary, it is a human scream... It sounds like someone needs help!"

Indeed, someone needs help as they hear a familiar feminine voice.

"PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

"OH MY GOD! It's Mrs. (L/N)!" exclaims Harry.

Fearing for the life of his beloved witch, Remus picks his wand and prepares to rescue (Y/N) when the tornado bursts into the classroom.

"STEP BACK! STAY FAR FROM IT!" directs Lupin.

All the students stumble behind their teacher. The werewolf braces himself before he tries to rescue his crush from the roaring wind. 

Unfortunately, the tornado absorbs him as well, before getting outside the classroom.

"We have to help them! Hurry!" declares Parvati before running outside, followed by her classmates.

When they arrive in the main hall, they witness an extraordinary scene: trapped in the tornado, Remus and (Y/N) try to escape this windy pit but fail every time.

"How can we help them?" demands Ron.

"First of all, we must identify which spell was used to create this tornado!"

At the same time, Fred and George topple towards them while repeating:

"A DISASTER! IT'S A DISASTER!"

When he hears his brothers, Ron exclaims:

"What on Earth have you done again?"

"See, little brother, it's a long time story..."

"Cut it out, and tell the truth!" yells Dean.

The twins look at each other with despair before explaining:

"Well, we only wanted to try helping Professor Lupin and Mrs (L/N) confessing to each other..."

"And we thought that if he saves her, she would immediately confess her love! And he would do the same!"

"Oh, by Morgana, why do I have those two dorks as brothers?" whines Ron as he facepalms.

"Okay. But why the tornado?" asks Neville.

"Well, it seems cool!" answers Fred.

"That is not cool AT ALL, you dumbskull!" 

"Only a Weasley can produce such a ridiculous idea!" says Goyle with irony.

"Shut up, Goyle, and be useful for once in your life!" shouts Seamus.

Whereas her classmates panic for their teachers, Hermione muses about the tornado.

"It is not a classic spell... If only I had my Charms book with me!"

Immediately, Draco hands his manual to her.

"You can read mine if you want!"

"Thanks, Draco! Let's see what it is!"

As the two wizards look in the book, Ron nudges Harry.

"Did you just see it?"

"What?"

"Malfoy was nice with Hermione!"

"And? It is not the first time!"

"That is not normal, Harry!"

"For Godric Gryffindor's sake, Ronald! We have other priorities now!"

Quickly, Hermione finds the solution.

"I got it! Oh lord, it's a Confessional Tornado!"

"A what?" asks George.

"According to the book, this spell creates that entangles two people and compels them to tell the truth. It lets them free only if they do so!" explains Malfoy.

"Well, that's a complicated situation!"

Coming closer to the tornado, Draco yells to the teachers.

"Professor Lupin, Mrs. (Y/N), you are in a Confessional Tornado! You must tell the truth, or you won't get out!"

"WHAT?"

"That's true! We checked it! Please, tell the truth!"

"The truth? About what?" asks Remus.

Sighing, the Slytherin shouts:

"Sir, tell her everything. Say how much she means to you... Just say what you are truly feeling about her!"

Slightly biting his lip, the young man carries on:

"You are a brave man, Mister Lupin. You can tell her the truth... so perhaps, it would help me to confess to the girl I love what I've dreamed of saying to her! How incredible, smart, lovely, and beautiful she is to me!"

"Who is he talking about?" asks Hermione.

"I don't know... but I pity for her!" sneers Ron.

Gathering his courage, Remus looks at (Y/N) and manages to say through the storm:

"Draco is right (Y/N). I should have told you the truth a long time ago..."

"What?"

"You are the most amazing witch I've ever met. Since the first day, I knew that... I fell in love with you."

Saying that (Y/N) is shocked is an understatement. All this time, she hoped to hear Remus saying those words... 

"Why?" she mutters.

"There are so many reasons why I love you, but I would waste your time. The main thing I would say is... If it takes me all this time to confess, it's because I'm scared... of me! You're aware of my second nature, and I would not be able to forgive myself if I hurt you!"

She smiles.

"Do you think I would turn around and walk away because of that? Remus, your lycanthropy is a part of you. But does it makes you a monster? No. You try your best to protect those around you from this curse. Every day, I see you with our colleagues or students. I only see a kind, compassionate, encouraging, brave, protective, and wise man who never gives up on someone else. This is the man I fell in love with since our first meeting. This is the man I want to spend my life with... If you would give me this chance!"

Suddenly, he takes her small hand and holds it tenderly.

"You don't have to ask: you are already in my existence!"

Moved by this answer, (Y/N) brightly smiles before she cups his face between her hands and kisses him. Taken aback by this sudden gesture, the man kisses her back under the cheers of the students and teachers.

"See, Minerva, he found the courage!" says Dumbledore, chuckling.

"They must be so relieved!" smiles McGonagall.

Meanwhile, the Weasley twins let out a sigh of relief.

"At least, it was not as disastrous as I thought!"

"Yeah. Mission accomplished, bro... And I can say that it helps someone else!"

They both look at Drago and Hermione, who are holding hands and speaking softly. 

"Man, I think we have created another power couple in Hogwarts!"

"Should we tell Ron about this?"

They look at each other with a mischievous smile.

"NAH! NOT NOW!" they laugh.

"Instead, let's enjoy our success!"

At the same moment, Remus and (Y/N) are enjoying the moment as they start a new step in their lives. A new life together. And to think that all begins when two prankish brothers start a tornado... After all, love is like a tornado: it arrives unexpectedly and sweeps you off your feet...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you’ll like it! 💜💜💜💜💜💜

[cakeandpi]

Breanna!! major spoilers below

I love that Parker is trying and failing miserably at teaching thief skills because she doesn’t know how to teach this particular student yet.

Harry’s first Leverage-client meeting! And Parker upset that Sophie is taking back the lead, a role that Parker isn’t ready to entirely hand over to Sophie.

Also poor Breanna, she thought she did well on the ‘follow the money’ but came up waaaay short. It’s like showing up for the first class of college thinking it’s just going to go over the syllabus except per the professor’s email there’s already homework due.

Oooh, game of nose-goes? What’s the role that Harry’s going to play that the other’s didn’t want? It can’t just be to avoid playing Sophie’s fake-husband.

“I’ve lose track of the marraiges but I only had one husband.” Where’s my fanfic of all the women Sophie married in her past?

Hahahahaha Breanna managed to pickpocket Harry but she got pickpocketed by Parker. And I love the explanation of “I’m Parker”.

“Get him with a misdemeanor.” Oh Breanna Breanna Breanna. Those can be bribed out of. And oof, Harry’s a bit mean about the whole ‘they don’t care and bribe their way out of trouble’ bit, meanwhile Eliot is very matter of fact. I hope Brianna finds her footing pretty soon.

"I assume it’s rather difficult to rob a casino in general?”/“Eh, kinda.” LMAO PARKER. Also!! Did the Leverage writers finally get to write their casino heist story?

That ‘clothes in trashbags from couch to couch’ sounds like something’s Breanna’s done. Felt a little too throw-away-y for it to not be from her past.

“Hardison used to get me the job. And sometimes, a 401(k).” AMAZING. I love this detail.

Etouffee and jambalaya Brick&Basil truck! “The crescent city’s best local food truck” I love that little sign on the side.

“Huh. I couldn’t find the ‘Get Eliot a 401(k)’ section in the manual.” Omg the manual referenced earlier is for Leverage-thievery-stuff, not just hacking stuff. And of course Hardison would leave a (15 volume) manual for his little sister.

"You can’t plan a grift with a flow chart.” You can if you’re Parker and the flow chart is flexible enough.

“Parker, are you using a flow chart for all your interactions?” Oh no. But at the same time, a sideways callback to how Sophie was using grifting tricks on the team/Nate just because she could.

Parker does a great southern bell accent.

“Renegade. That’s what they used to call me on the job.” Amazing.

“I didn’t put police on your resume!” Oh Brianna, there’s all sorts of reasons someone would leave a job off a resume, he’s just gotta go with one that’s not “it was too long ago”

“Where were you stationed?” Hm, and this is for a casino job? Shreveport. Has to be.

I’M RIGHT

“I don’t miss.” You are going to miss, that’s definitely a Special Disc. And... he misses.

Chaudry’s an attractive looking bad guy.

Parker and cereal!

Oh and Breanna can’t stand the temptation. Also that pearl for whatever reason looks fake, though that might be because I’m more used to fake pearls.

I bet Old Cop’s spreadsheet is gonna be important later.

“I told you not to do it.”/“You would’ve.” Yeah but Parker would have waited, not gone for it right then and there. But Parker doesn’t feel the need to prove herself. Breanna does.

And Sophie keeps it from spiraling out of control by being very matter of fact - they’ve all messed up, but Breanna’s mess up makes her recognizable, so she’s off the front lines for the con.

Breanna leaves out of frustration, only none of the three others notice. Hm. Is she going to go get into some more trouble? Oh, no, she’s gone to be alone out in their hideout’s courtyard.

“Let me guess, you’ve come to make me feel better.”/“Oh, I think I’d be about the worst person in the world for that job.” At least Harry knows his strengths and comforting others is not one of them.

“Oh, poor baby, all you have is money and good looks and privilege and access.” Ah, this is not just about having to be sidelined for this con.

“And what about you, seems like you could do just about anything and all of its scary, what do you want?” And Breanna’s obviously feeling a bit down on herself, but rather than follow her into that mood Harry turns it around on her, pointing out that she is ridiculously talented and can do a lot of things, she just needs to decide what she wants to do with those skills. Does she just want to fool around and mess up and have fun? Does she want to work? Does she want to laze about? Does she want to improve on the skills she has? Does she want new skills? Because each one of those takes her on a different trajectory with Leverage and the team.

“I want the world to stop sucking. ... This team, it says it can make a difference. Okay, fine. I’ll give it a shot. Because I love my brother, and because I’m desperate, not because I believe in hope or something stupid like that.” I love her character motivation speech here.

I’m laughing at Parker getting frustrated because she can’t hide the money fast enough. And then she figures out a way, but they’ll have to make the dress bigger. (Oh, are they going to get the client involved with the dress design? That’d be cool!) And Parker and Sophie have a little talk about how Breanna wants to impress and that Parker’s going to have to teach her. And a reference to how the og team helped everyone on the team get better.

Now that is an amazingly poofy dress. I love it.

They did get the client involved with the dress alterations!! Yes!!

Eliot and Old Cop having cake together. And that’s gotta be some good cake with Eliot genuinely complimenting him.

Oh dear, Parker’s flowchart is getting caught because she’s sticking to it a little to hard, not letting it flow around her. It feels like she should be better at this though, with the 10-odd years that she’s had to do this without Sophie. But this might be more her falling back into old patterns, just like Sophie falling into patterns on leading the cons.

Ooh okay these guys are in on the con. Wait I should know these people?? I... don’t think so but maybe?

Flounce, flounce, kick

Oof. Too much money to carry out. Way too much. And Russian mob. (Is it a very distinctive tattoo Eliot?)

Okay the con’s gone off the rails, so it has to be rescued somehow. Breanna’s figured out a way (“did the math twice”) though everyone waits for Parker’s okay to go through with it. I don’t know exactly what it is - sink the vault into the river? Plant it on various gamblers? Make it seem like Chaundry was stealing from himself? But it rests on Breanna being right and not just showing off. But Parker’s seen that when Breanna’s under pressure - not fake 'practice’ pressure, the real stuff - she can perform, its just when she’s trying to impress that she fails.

“You cut your way through an ice cave. You escaped a gorilla enclosure. And you catered a wedding for the mob.”/“It wasn’t catering. It was a food sensory experience.” Is that a reference back to season one? If not, I really want to know more about that not-catering job!

Oh no!! Old Cop took a hit for Eliot. And as soon as the mafia goon is taken out, Eliot takes time to make sure Old Cop is all right. (If they mess up the con, the family loses the house but they can if needed con Chaundry again and get the house back. If Old Cop dies they can’t get him back.)

Okay Breanna at least has to know the baddies see real camera footage again, right? And Eliot seemed to almost deliberately not-quite look at the camera. They’ve got to be counting on the bad guys finding out and hitting the emergency lock.

All the money’s gone! But... how? Did Parker take Eliot with her into a vent? Fake wall?

Oh sir you are not good enough to accuse Sophie of having conned you without her turning it right back around on you. And she gets a one-person gloat too.

Lol and the pearl is gone.

Squish? Oho. They went through the floor and down the river.

Aww, Breanna’s joined Eliot on the ‘receiving end of Parker’s too-hard physical affection’.

“That was ... my cake, Parker! He made it special for me!” Methinks Eliot doth protest too much about him and Old Cop not being friends.

“I want to take on the bad guys. I have to learn everything.” ‘Have to’ is an interesting choice.

“Parker. My first memory is of 9/11.” Whereas that’s my.... 9th? 10th? grade math-class memory. Breanna's grown up in a very different world from Parker and Hardison - probably Eliot’s background is closest to hers.

And.... Parker how did you steal that pearl? Is this an exercise left to the viewers or a bit of ‘it’s tv, we’re having fun’? (Or both!)

[chloelucia13]

Chapter 12: The Mind Flayer

Pairing: none for the moment (currently Jonathan Byers x Platonic!Henderson!reader)

Prompt:  You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: Returning to the lab proved more difficult than you had thought, and it wasn’t just because of the demogorgon-like creatures that littered the town. But when everyone was finally out, a savior finally showed up on the Byers’ porch.

Warnings: LOTS OF ANGST, maybe a tiny bit of fluff, language, lots of conflict, descriptions of violence and gore, AND JONATHAN IS BACK BABEY

Word Count: 3082

A/N: Finally some drama! I’m really excited to hear what you guys think of this chapter, and I’m especially excited to release next week’s chapter because it literally made me cry when I was writing it. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! As always, the taglist is open! Let me know what you guys think!

Catch up here!

Tags: @just-my-fandom​, @nightbu-g​ 

You hadn’t realized just how long you had been standing that day until your feet ached with every step you took.

“You’re positive that was Dart?” Lucas asked as you all walked along the train tracks, making the trek home.

“Yes, he had the same yellow pattern on his butt,” Dustin responded shortly.

“Wait, hold on,” you spoke up. “You named that thing?”

“Obviously, keep up Y/N.” He huffed.

“He was tiny just two days ago,” Lucas brought up.

“Well he’s molted three times already.”

“Malted?” Steve questioned confusedly.

“Molted. Shed his skin to make room for growth. Like hornworms,” Dustin explained.

“When’s he gonna molt again?” Max asked.

“It’s gotta be soon. When he does, he’ll be fully grown. Or close to it. And so will his friends.”

“Yeah, and he’s gonna eat more than just cats,” Steve deadpanned.

“Wait, a cat?” Lucas cut in, stepping in front of Dustin to stop him. “Dart ate a cat?” 

“No, what? No,” Dustin scoffed.

"What are you talking about? He ate Mews,” Steve responded, even more confused than he was earlier.

“Mews? Who’s Mews?” Max asked, seeming almost as lost as Steve.

“My cat,” you huffed.

“Y/N! Steve!” Dustin whined.

“I knew it! You kept him!” Lucas accused, shoving Dustin slightly.

“No!”

“No?”

“No, I... He missed me. He wanted to come home.”

“Bullshit.”

“I didn’t know he was a demogorgon, okay?”

“Oh, so now you admit it?”

“Guys, who cares? We have to go,” Max interrupted, growing impatient.

“I care! You put the party in jeopardy! You broke the rule of law!” Lucas continued, ignoring Max.

“So did you!” Dustin countered.

“What?”

“You told a stranger the truth!”

Dustin shone his light in Max’s face, and Max looked away in annoyance and disbelief. “A stranger?” she spat.

You and Steve shared a look as they continued to fight, both of you silently arguing on who needed to butt into the conversation and stop it before it went too far. That silent argument quickly ended, however, when you both heard a loud screeching in the distance. Steve shone his light in that direction, and you walked slowly beside him towards the source of the sound.

“Guys?” Steve voiced.

The kids ignored him, continuing to bicker.

“Guys!” you shouted, startling them all and making them look at you, panic rising in your throat. The screeching continued, and the two of you jogged forward.

“No, no, no. Hey guys? Why are you running towards the sound?” Max asked as Dustin and Lucas began following behind you and Steve. “Hello? Hello?” She let out a huff before hurrying to catch up with you all.

The screeching continued in the distance as you all stood at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the Hawkins Forest.

“I don’t see him,” Dustin sighed.

Lucas raised his binoculars to his eyes as he surveyed the forest, pulling them away a moment later with a look of worry on his face. “It’s the lab. They’re going back home.”

***

You were silent on the rushed trek down to the lab, unable to even imagine speaking without bursting into tears. You felt like it was your fault. Like a butterfly effect. If you had stayed at the lab for Will, none of this would’ve happened. These strange creatures wouldn’t exist, and no one’s life would be at stake.

Bile had been lingering in the back of your throat since you had seen all the lights in the lab shut off, and at this point, you thought you were about to pass out from panic and guilt.

Luckily, you all had made it to the fenced area around the lab in record time, and you were now making your way around the fenced area to get to the automated gate.

“Hello? Who’s there?” a voice shouted just past the clearing of trees, and it made you jump. You immediately gripped onto Steve’s wrist, shaking like a leaf as you all made your way through the clearing, Steve’s flashlight shining through the dark night.

As soon as two figures came into view, their voices echoed in unison. “Steve? Y/N?”

“Nancy?” Steve spoke, shocked.

“Jonathan?” you whispered out, mirroring his shock.

“What are you guys doing here?” Nancy asked, all of you rushing forward to gather together.

“What are you guys doing here?” Steve echoed.

“We’re looking for Mike and Will.”

“They’re not in there, are they?” Dustin asked, and your stomach churned.

“We’re not sure.”

“They are,” you choked out, staring up at the looming building. “I-I was supposed to come back for them. I just went home to grab this stupid thing-” you waved your machete in your hand- “and now they’re stuck in there a-and...” You trailed off, tears welling in your eyes.

An ear-splitting screech broke through the air, and you let out a silent sob. The tears began to flow freely as you rushed over to the gate, wedging the tip of the blade between the two bars that held the gate closed. You tried with all your might to wedge them open, but to no avail. “No, no, no,” you cried out, hooking your fingers into the chain link and jangling it. “Fuck!”

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you immediately flinched away from it, turning around to see Jonathan standing there. “Y/N,” he whispered, trying to calm you down. “The power is back on.”

You nodded, fervently scrubbing the tears away from your cheeks before stepping away from him. The creaking of the gate motor sounded, and you watched as it slowly inched open. 

“Come on, Y/N, we’ve gotta go!” Jonathan shouted at you as he hopped in the driver’s seat of his car. 

You shook your head. “I-I need to stay here. I need to make sure they all get out. I can’t,” you explained, your voice cracking with every word.

You knew Jonathan didn’t have the time to argue, and you stepped aside to let them drive in and pick them up. He sped past you, leaving you and Steve and the kids at the gate.

“You okay?” Steve asked, stepping over to you.

“No, I don’t think so,” you whispered, sniffling.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He patted your shoulder.

You nodded, standing there for a moment. “You’re right, Steve.”

“About what?”

“I only like the people who don’t care about me.”

He examined your face, trying to find the right words to say. 

“Guys!” Max shouted, and you looked up to see Jonathan’s car, followed by Hopper’s car. You all immediately cleared the way to let them drive through, and Hopper pulled up next to you all.

“Let’s go,” he urged, and you all clambered into the car before speeding off.

***

You silently sat in the dark dining room, your knees tucked up under your chin as you stared blankly into the living room at Will’s sleeping figure, Jonathan sat next to him. You could hear Hopper yelling demands into the phone just feet from you, but it felt like it could’ve been 100 yards away. It was like your head was underwater, everything sounding warbled and muted. You knew that feeling all too well, that sensation. You were dissociating, completely checked out as your brain replayed every horrible thought on a loop until you felt as if you were going insane.

“Hey Y/N, you there?” 

You felt a tap against your shoulder and you jumped to your feet, grabbing onto whatever touched you and holding it tightly in your fist.

“Y/N, Y/N! It’s me! It’s Jonathan!”

Your vision cleared and you saw Jonathan’s wrist clasped tightly between your fingers. You immediately loosened your grip and shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Sorry,” you voiced flatly.

He rubbed his wrist, his eyes flickering over your form. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“I’m fine.” You squeezed past him, out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

A moment later, the kids and Steve hurried into the kitchen, gathering around the kitchen table. Hopper, Nancy, and Jonathan all entered after them, everyone bunching up around the table as Dustin laid down a book.

“The mind flayer,” Dustin announced, referring to the creature printed on the page the book was opened to.

“What the hell is that?” Hopper voiced from behind the group, disdain in his voice.

“It’s a monster from an unknown dimension. It’s so ancient, it doesn’t even know its true home.” Dustin glanced around the table, noticing the disinterest and confusion on everyone’s faces. “Okay, it enslaves other dimensions by taking over their brains using its highly developed psionic powers.”

“Oh my god. None of this is real. It’s a kid’s game,” Hopper interrupted, already growing frustrated.

“It’s a manual. And it’s not for kids. And unless you know something that we don’t, this is the best metaphor-”

“Analogy,” Lucas corrected.

“Analogy. That’s what you’re worried about? Fine, an analogy for understanding whatever the hell this is,” Dustin huffed.

“Okay, so this mind flamer thing-” Nancy began.

“Flayer. Mind flayer,” Dustin corrected.

Nancy let out a sigh. “What does it want?”

“To conquer us, basically. It believes it’s the master race.”

“Like the Germans,” Steve generalized.

“Nazis, Steve,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

“Yeah, the Nazis.”

“Uh, if the Nazis were from another dimension, totally,” Dustin agreed. “It views other races, like us, as inferior to itself.”

“It wants to spread, take over other dimensions,” Mike added.

“We’re talking about the destruction of our world as we know it,” Lucas continued.

“That’s great. That’s great. That’s really great. Jesus!” Steve rambled, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, so if thing is like a brain that’s controlling everything, then if we kill it,” Nancy voiced, picking up the book.

“We kill everything it controls,” Mike completed her thought.

“We win,” Dustin concluded.

“Theoretically,” Lucas corrected.

Hopper took the book from Nancy’s hands, examining the page. “Great. So how do you kill this thing? Shoot it with fireballs or something?” he grumbled.

“No. No, no fireballs,” Dustin chuckled. “Uh, you summon an undead army, uh, because...” He began to stutter, remembering who he was talking to. “Because zombies, you know, don’t have brains. And the mind flayer, it... It likes brains.It’s just a game. It’s a game.”

“What the hell are we doing here,” Hopper huffed, closing the book and tossing it onto the table.

You let out a sigh, stepping away from the table and hopping up onto the kitchen counter, sitting there silently as everyone began to bicker.

“If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, It’s Will. And maybe Y/N,” Mike spoke, pulling you from your trance. “He’s connected to it. He’ll know its weakness.” Mike turned to you. “And you were in the upsidedown with him. You’ve been with him through this. And you knew something was wrong with him, that day at the school.”

You shrugged. “It was just a feeling. And I haven’t experienced anything Will is going through. I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

“But wait,” Max interrupted. “I thought we couldn’t trust him anymore. That he’s a spy for the mind flayer now.”

“Yeah, but he can’t spy if he doesn’t know where he is,” Mike countered.

***

You were sifting through one of the few closets full of stuff in the Byers’ house when someone cleared their throat behind you.

“Hey Y/N, can we talk?” Jonathan asked from behind you before moving to sit next to you on the floor. You nodded silently in response, prompting him to continue talking. “I... I really appreciate you helping Will and Mom. It really means a lot.”

Again, you just nodded. 

“Are... Are you and Steve dating?”

“What?” you voiced, finally taking your gaze away from the pile of fabric to look at Jonathan. “No, God no.” You scoffed before turning back to the pile, pulling out an old comforter. “Are you and Nancy dating?”

“I... I don’t know. I think so.”

You hummed, picking up the pile of sheets you had found that would work as decent coverings for the shed.

“I-I just asked because you and Steve were together with the kids.”

“Yeah, well he’s been one of the only people who has given a shit about me these past few days, so maybe that’s why.” You pushed yourself to your feet and turned to walk away, only for Jonathan to step in front of you.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” He reached out and rested his hand on your shoulder. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “I don’t really think I can anymore. I mean, I was gonna the day after Halloween. You know, the night you left me at that party so you could take Nancy home? But then you disappeared with Nancy, so maybe I just shouldn’t waste my fucking time trying to talk to you.”

“Y/N-”

“We’ll talk about this when Will is better. Or will you even be around?” You shoved past him and stormed out of the house, over to the shed.

“Let’s get this shit done with,” you told Steve, tossing the sheets to the ground by his feet. Both Steve and Nancy gave you a confused look before exchanging a look between themselves. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Nancy asked, reaching out towards you.

You turned away from her, grabbing a sheet off the floor. “I’m just fine.”

***

You were almost fast asleep with your head laying against the kitchen table when Hopper, Joyce, Mike, and Jonathan all stormed in. Bob grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and everyone gathered around him as he began to write down a series of dots and dashes.

“What happened?” Dustin questioned as everyone watched over Hopper’s shoulder.

“I think he’s talking, but not with words,” Hopper sighed.

“What is that?” Steve asked, his brows furrowed.

“Morse code,” Lucas and Dustin and Mike replied in unison.

“H-E-R-E,” Hopper spelled out.

“Here,” Max cut in.

“Will’s still in there. He’s talking to us.”

“So we need to keep him aware, keep reminding him of where he is,” you stammered out. “Maybe he can tell us how to help him.”

Jonathan immediately rushed out of the room, and a small glimmer of hope began to reside in your chest, making your heart race. 

“Maybe you can talk to him,” Mike spoke, and you nodded slowly.

“I mean, I can try.” 

Jonathan rushed back in with his radio in his hand, and Hopper and Joyce followed behind him into the backyard and to the shed.

Hopper stopped in the doorway, grabbing Will’s radio off of the kitchen counter. “I’m gonna send you what he says. Write it down,” Hopper instructed before leaving.

***

The letters “C-L-O-S-E-G” were written out on a piece of cardboard when Hopper entered the room.

“Y/N?” he voiced, and you rose to your feet. “It’s your turn.”

You nodded, following Hopper out into the shed. You closed the door behind you before you slowly moved over to the empty seat positioned in front of Will. 

“Hey bud,” you whispered, sitting down. “It’s me, Y/N. Do you remember me?” You searched his fearful eyes as he shook his head. “We... We were stuck in the Upside Down together. I had found you there, in Castle Byers.”

Tears were already welling in your eyes. “I protected you while we were there,” you continued, your voice cracking. “You were so tired, so cold. One night, a day or two before we got out, you... You weren’t doing so well. But you didn’t want to fall asleep, you were scared. So I told you stories that my mom would tell me to get me to go to sleep. And I sang you Joy Division.” You wiped away a few of the tears that had fallen down your cheeks. “That was the only time I saw you smile when we were there, and it... It gave me hope. It helped me believe that we would get out of there. And we did. And I know that you feel like you’re still stuck in there, I know that you’re scared. But I’m here with you. We’re all here with you. And it’s gonna be okay.”

A small sob began to bubble in your chest when he stayed silent, but it quickly turned into a gasp of horror as you heard the ringing of the telephone sound from inside the house. Will’s head immediately snapped in that direction before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and a strange sound echoed in his chest.

You stumbled out of the and backed away as Hopper and Joyce rushed forward. “It knows. It knows where we are,” Hopper voiced gravely.

Joyce immediately ran over and grabbed the syringe filled with a tranquilizer and injected it into Will’s arm, effectively knocking him out. A moment later, a familiar screeching filled the air.

You all worked to free Will from his binds before you all ran back inside, slamming the door shut behind you. Steve handed you your machete as soon as he saw you, and you gripped the handle tight.

Nancy took a shotgun from Hopper, and you, Nancy, Steve, and Hopper all stood in front of everyone else, wielding your weapons. A loud thud echoed from the side of the house, and you all shifted to face that way.

“What are they doing?” Nancy voiced.

Snarling sounded to your right, and you all shifted again. Its screeches grew louder and louder, and your heart began to thud in your ears.

And then, silence.

A moment later, glass flew all around the room as the body of one of the creatures flew through the front window, rolling limply onto the floor. You all inched closer towards it, ready for it to lunge.

“Holy shit,” Dustin exclaimed.

“Is it dead?” Max asked, hesitant. 

Hopper pushed its head with his foot, watching as it lolled around.

You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the creaking of the front door. Startled, all of you turned in that direction. The lock on the door slid out of place, and the other lock on the doorknob turned before the door inched open.

In the doorway stood a girl, one that you recognized immediately.

You all lowered your weapons as Eleven stepped through the door, blood dripping from her nose.

[pippki-writes]

An Ill-Fitting Name: Snippet 15

NOTES:

Snippet 1; Snippets 2 & 3; Snippet 4; Snippet 5; Snippet 6; Snippet 7; Snippet 8; Snippet 9; Snippet 10; Snippet 11; Snippet 12; Snippet 13; Snippet 14

Word Count: ~2k

Faoust belongs to @thebiggestnerd - she writes him; Isaiah and everyone else here are mine.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A lot of things can happen in five short days. Like you find out your murder-friend-with-benefits got killed, and brought back by the god of Chaos on the condition that he had no memories of the love of his life. And maybe Chaos encourages your friend to pay more attention to you instead of the man he had loved. And maybe you go along with it—even though you know, right there in front of his actual love, that it’s so fucked up of you, that it won’t last, that it’s all just going to go horribly wrong. You fall into it anyway.

Hasn’t happened to you? Oh, just Isaiah then.

Isaiah still can’t explain to himself why, when Faoust asked, he agreed to try being something more for one another…first Isaiah agreed to come home with him, not to fool around more but to simply…spend time together? And then, what a day later? After spending the night, spending the day together, after a second fantastic tumble in as many days, just laying together spent in bed, there Faoust was saying insanely sappy things, about how Isaiah understood him, and how he liked being around him, and wondering about whether they were destined to be together? That sort of bullshit made Isaiah laugh. He doesn’t believe in destinies—no. A man controls his own fate, choices, actions. This was no destiny. Just Isaiah, who liked what they had already. Who didn’t want to ruin an already good thing. But who decided, finger pressed to Faoust’s lips to shush him from a string of “this is stupid”s, Faoust trying to backpedal his feelings while Isaiah simply needed time to think���who decided to go for it anyway.

It wasn’t a perfect five days. Saccharinity—a sweet kiss, a gentle touch of his face—made Isaiah feel uncomfortable—was not for him, not the dynamic he was used to sharing, not with Faoust. He had no desire to be exclusive either, the two of them, though he could sense the disappointment when Faoust agreed to it. That should have been a stronger clue how none of this was real. Before Chaos intervened, Faoust was living a quite comfortably open polyamorous life. Why would he suddenly want to forsake that for a monogamous life with Isaiah? Not that Isaiah would want such a thing anyway, even if he didn’t feel so uncomfortable with the idea of genuine commitment.

And then there were the appearances from Chaos itself, its terrifying hold over Faoust, fucking with his mind, inviting Isaiah to join it? Isaiah didn’t want to think about the horrible, too-toothed smile and the way it held Faoust. The way it smoothed over Faoust’s memories to free him from pain, to keep him from remembering.

Ah, and then the fifth night. When Isaiah had gotten attacked by Faoust’s true love, Dorien, over a bit of a misunderstanding (yes, ok, he can objectively admit how it might look to burst into a room and see Isaiah with a knife in his hand straddling Faoust, with Faoust covered in a mess of bloody cuts, but it was consensual), had gotten thrown against the wall and attacked over and over, Dorien screaming and slashing Isaiah’s arms. Faoust had had to save him from Dorien, had told him later he’d been scared Dorien was going to kill him. Someone caring whether he died? That was new.

And then, Isaiah hadn’t even bothered to ask how, he didn’t care, later that night, Faoust got his memories back. The hold Chaos had had over his mind had broken. He was back to the way he’d always been. Isaiah woke from a half-sleep with a start, remembers seeing Faoust peeking in awkwardly. Isaiah realized as he woke up that Faoust was at the door, rather than still in the bed with him.

“Hm? Where’d you run off to?”

“So,” said Faoust, “I have some good news and bad news.”

Isaiah knew. He knew by the tone of Faoust’s voice that this was it, that this—whatever it was—was over. “Ah, just say it.”

“I’m back. I got my memory back…all of it.”

“Is that the good news, the bad news, or both?”

“Little bit of both. Ah…” Faoust decided, after a pause, to just come out with it. “Chaos was manipulating my feelings for you. I don't..I don't feel any differently than I did before I died. I still care about you. A lot. But I was comfortable where we were.”

“Yeah, it…yeah.” Isaiah sighed. “Are you mad at me for going along with it anyway?”

Faoust smiled a little sadly. “Not at all.”

A bit more banter exchanged between the two of them. Isaiah claimed Faoust’s bed for the night, since he had very recently gotten a beat-down from the man Faoust would be eagerly waiting to run back to. They said the expected sort of things to say between people hoping to shift back to something they’d had before with as little damage as possible. Wouldn’t work out anyway. Better for both of us. Faoust seemed inclined to keep talking, as if to make up for this—whatever breaking off this was. But Isaiah didn’t want this pity, this strange compensation, this consolation prize of conversation knowing that Faoust was just waiting for Isaiah to seem ok so he could leave again. Isaiah finally chased Faoust off with a good-natured “stop bothering me, I’m sleeping,” rolling away from him and spreading himself out on his stomach across as much of the whole bed as he could, waiting for Faoust to leave.

Once Faoust was gone, Isaiah rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

Yes.

Best for both of them.

Isaiah isn’t meant for soft, kind things.

Murder and magic. That’s what he’s good for.

Now, Isaiah sits on his porch, legs kicked against the railing, thinking. His hands hold a stick and his knife, slowly worrying the bark away with the blade as he tries to make sense of his mind. It hadn’t even been love, they’d both said that, even when Faoust was completely under the control of Chaos, he’d never said he loved Isaiah. And even if he had, come on, Isaiah had been loved before.

But no. That wasn’t quite right, was it?

Vespar had been loved. And Elios before that, and Redrik before that, and so on down the line until you hit the bedrock of Isaiah, who had never been loved. Not by his mother. Not by his father. Not by anyone.

No one had loved him, and especially no one had ever known him, really him and all the things he did, and loved him. Not even come close. This thing with Faoust, it hadn’t been love. But it had been something that could have come close.

But no. It had all just been based on lies and manipulation. He knew that. He’d known it going in. So why does he feel so…hell. He doesn’t even know how to describe what he’s feeling.

Isaiah’s reverie is snapped by the sound of someone approaching. Any other time, a stranger crashing through the trees to his hidden home, calling out, “Isaiah James?” would have been great cause for concern. But here, today, right now, feeling things he isn’t even sure how to describe, the distraction is welcome. Isaiah stands warily, letting the stick fall, holding the knife ready in his hand.

The man stops at the edge of the clearing, holds up a hand to shade his eyes from the sun in spite of the cheap aviators on his face, to glance at Isaiah, check the phone in his hand, and back to Isaiah. He’s wearing a coat, though the day is a bit warm for it, and projects a solid confidence as he starts walking towards the porch.

“I’ve been looking for you, Isaiah James,” the man begins, “and hell have you been difficult to find. Would have figured you for dead, if I’d been able to find a body. But your mother—“

At this, the man freezes. Something in Isaiah snaps, this man speaking a name he shouldn’t know, mentioning his mother. He wants to hear no more, and without even needing to think about it he found his hand quickly tracing out the sigil in the air, the words across his lips, his will being imposed on another, binding the man in place. Isaiah closes the distance between the two of them, in the quiet of the trees, the traffic and the rest of the world distant and muffled by this little place where Isaiah has made a home.

“You should have found me dead,” Isaiah hisses, his thumb rubbing against the heel of his blade, using his magic to jerk the man down to his knees, wide-eyed and still frozen. “They sure as hell won’t find you.”

Isaiah draws the blade hard and deep across the man’s throat, one fierce quick motion, but stops before sending the body hurtling down into the earth where no one will find it. He grabs the phone, still clenched in the man’s hand, and holds it up to the man’s wide eyed face to unlock it.

The screen is on a missing persons poster, with side by side images—a sullen-looking 14-year-old boy with short, sandy curls, and the uncanny, unnerving imaginings of a computer algorithm of what that boy might look like now at 33. Still unsmiling, eyes hollow and dead. Have you seen him? asks the poster. Isaiah James.

Isaiah eyes the image critically. A facsimile of himself, hair too short, eyes (both of them, but hah, how could a computer guess he’d be missing one?) without any hint of mischief or trouble, an alternate Isaiah that could have been. Maybe, if Isaiah had been any kind of normal.

Isaiah swipes to the man’s messages to see what else he can find.

He has no intention of telling the bitch ahead of time, but Isaiah James has decided to come home. browser tabs, but it doesn’t look like the man told her where he thought Isaiah was. Not even where he was looking.

The man was a private investigator, apparently. Not from around here, by what Isaiah can glean from the details on his phone, and so, Isaiah thinks as he dips a finger in the man’s blood to start drawing a sigil, not likely to be missed soon. It’s so much easier to send someone hurtling into the earth right when he kills them, drawing upon the power of the bloodshed in the moment. Waiting requires this extra step. Manual, he thinks, rather than automatic. He considers keeping the phone, but no. He’s seen enough. A cell signal is a liability. He uses his magic to bury the phone far away, deep within the earth, and to send the man disappearing into the ground below, never to be found.

Back by the road, Isaiah finds a rental car. Tedious, he thinks, hotwiring the car and driving it off somewhere dark and without the pesky interference of video cameras. He can’t just leave the car near his home—that would inspire searches. Questions. Shit he doesn’t need. He drives it a few towns over, to give a different police force something to puzzle over, and slips back home through the shadows.

Perhaps, if he had been in a different sort of mood, Isaiah would shrug it off. To hell with his mother and whatever the hell she wants with him. It surely won’t be anything good. But right now, Isaiah feels…uncertain. Bothered by things he doesn’t know how to even identify. Needing something else to turn his mind to, to distract him from the confusion inside. He snaps his knife shut, sliding it in his pocket, and goes back in to grab his truck keys.

He wants to know. He needs to know. What the hell does she want?

He has no intention of telling the bitch ahead of time, but Isaiah James has decided to come home.

- NEXT SNIPPET -

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Non Grata

Sequel to Getaway Homecoming

Warnings: noncon sex (oral and intercourse), angst. This is dark!(nomad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

Summary: The reader finds herself lost after Steve’s second visit.

Note: Do you like to hate Steve Rogers? Does him being an absolute dick make you hard? Well this is the series for you! Here’s another of a brutal nomad Steve and a desperate reader who just wants him the fuck the fuck off!

Anyways, hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think as always. Love ya <3

-

Steve left just as he had the first time. You were broken on the bed; your legs bent over the edge, an ache through your entire body, the remnants of his assault dripping down your thighs. The sweat cooled along your skin as you sank into an exhausted stupor. The shadows of the room loomed around you and a sharp hiss cut through the air. Your heart beat was distant, low. It filled your head like a drum. Your ears burned as the hiss grew to a snarl and your name roused you from your haze.

You turned your head to look at Ethan. He was as he had been for the last hours; bound to the chair to witness your debasement. You cringed and pushed yourself up on shaky arms. “Goddamnit, would you untie me?” He barked. The tone of his voice hurt more than your body. The bruises left by unyielding fingers and the welts around your neck from the twisted cotton.

You stood and crossed to the chair. Your fingers were unsteady as you worked at the tape. You tore it away from his ankles and wrists. You gulped as you gathered your voice. “Ethan…”

“Don’t,” He stood and brushed by you. “I...gotta get ready for work.” He didn’t look at the bed. Or you. He went to the closet and slid the door open. He pulled out a pair of grey pants and a navy button-up. “You should clean yourself up.” His tone made your heart clench. He was so unkind; angry even. At you? For what had been done to you.

“Please--”

“I don’t wanna talk.” He kept his back to you as he neared the door. “About it. About anything.”

You felt as if you had been punched. You clutched your sweaty hair as your eyes burned. You stared at the door until your stomach bubbled with bile. You dropped your arms and held back a sob. You dragged your feet to the bathroom door and braced yourself against the frame with one hand. You could feel Steve still; inside of you, outside. Your body was covered in his scent. His cum sticky along your thighs.

You closed the door as you stepped inside. You cranked the shower and waited for the steam to rise before you slipped past the curtain. The water was not hot enough to cleanse you. You could hear Ethan in the living room. Your tears melded with the water as you reached out to hold yourself steady against the tile. You listened to his soft footsteps until at last the door opened and closed. He was gone.

You scrubbed every inch of flesh. Every nook and cranny until you were on fire. Your muscles strained as you turned off the water and wrapped yourself in the soft terry towel. Your legs felt weak beneath you. You stripped the bed of the sheet; streaks of cum across the grey cotton. You bunched them up and shoved it in a garbage bag. 

You dressed stiffly. Ritualistically. You didn’t eat, didn’t even brew a coffee. You grabbed the bag and tossed it in the dumpster on your way to work. At least that would be the same. The same old desk; the same phone; the same monotone co-workers. 

-

When you got home, the apartment was eerily silent. It would be an hour before Ethan returned. You weren’t sure if he would. That thought made you want to vomit. You paced around the living room until the lock clicked and you stopped in your tracks as Ethan entered. His shoulders were stiff, his jaw set, his eyes grim. He looked at you for a split second but quickly glanced away. Was it shame? Disgust? Hatred?

He placed his bag beside the door as he always did. He sighed as he crossed the threshold between entrance and living room. His hand settled on the arm of the couch, fingers tapped in rhythm with unspoken thoughts. His eyes had turned to stone. At last he found the strength to look at you. You clasped your hands together as your nerves flurried. The tension was suffocating.

“Do you want the apartment?” He asked finally. You blinked and your cheek twitched. “Because I can’t stay in this place.”

“Wha--I…” You were breathless. You felt as if you were floating and feared you’d come crashing down. “Ethan, you--”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t stay here, with you, after that,” He shook his head and looked away once more. He crossed his arms and leaned against the couch.

“You’re just going to leave me?” You voice cracked with the last syllable. He stayed silent and hung his head. “What do think that was, Ethan? Do you think I wanted that?”

“I think it looked like you enjoyed yourself, regardless of what you wanted,” He glared at you as he lifted his head. “Why didn’t you tell me before? About the cabin?”

“Would you believe me? Oh, you’d never guess, I was just up in the middle of nowhere and Captain America came out of the wildlands to ravage me. Very believable.”

“I--To think you let me touch you after he did,” Ethan spat as he stood straight.

You inhaled and stared him down. The silence wrapped around your throat. “I don’t want the apartment.” You muttered, “I only ever wanted you, but I would never force my presence on you.” A sickening heat crept up your spine. “I’ll stay with Gia until I find a place. I’ll have my stuff out by the end of the month.”

Ethan’s shoulders dropped. “Is that it? You’re not going to fight?”

“What’s the point? You’ve made up your mind and I’ve already lost everything.” You lowered your lashes before the tears could spill. “I never wanted to say goodbye but I never imagined it would be like this.”

You bit your lip in the lull that followed. Ethan cleared his throat and you heard his footfalls across the hardwood. “I’ll give notice to the landlord.” You glanced over at his shoes as he stood by the bedroom door. “You can take whatever you want.”

He disappeared through the door and your throat constricted. You shook as you turned and looked to the balcony door. It was still unlocked from the night before. You neared and slowly pulled it open. On the other side, your bikini top hung from the knob. You didn’t recall him taking it but you also couldn’t remember finding it in your luggage. Another detail lost to the oblivion of your mind.

You untangled the strap from the handle and felt an unusual shape against the pad. You felt along the cup and slipped your fingers through the small slit sewn in to remove the padding. You gripped the thin plastic and removed it with a fumble. You held up the card you hadn’t noticed was missing. The one you had cracked several years ago and was often forgotten in the back of your wallet. Your name and social security number faded across the plastic.

You turned it over and it fell from your grip with a gasp. Just below the black strip were letters written in slanted sharpie. You knelt to read it again; certain you were imagining it. But staring back at you was the very clear message; a promise. I’ll find you.

-

Gia’s apartment was almost too small for the both of you. She helped you inflate the air mattress with the manual pump in the living room as she tried to disguise her curiosity with none-so-subtle questions. You hadn’t told her much. You and Ethan had chosen to go your separate ways. The relationship had lost its lustre. The usual cliched bullshit recited to conceal your heartbreak. Even so, you could tell she wanted to know more. She was ever the sucker for gossip; even if it was another’s pain.

She put on beauty tutorials and ordered take out. You ate as you pretended to listen to the brow shaping tips. You didn’t taste the fried rice or the sweet and sour chicken. When at last she retreated to her room, you laid across the mattress and sank into the darkness. You couldn’t sleep as your heart began to hammer. What if he found you here? What would he do to Gia? You were so stupid. Why had you come here?

When the sun rose, you were already awake. You had moved to the couch and jumped at every noise. Gia was on afternoons that day so she wouldn’t be up for some time. You made a coffee, drank it in the early morning din, and forced down a bowl of instant oats. You dressed, grabbed your purse, and set out for the bus stop. You’d be on a different route now that you were with Gia.

It was like any other day at work. You were almost late as the bus took a little longer and you rushed in without time for your usual ten minute pre-work laze. You opened up your emails and began to file through those until the first call of the day came in. You typed blindly and went through the usual spiel. Knocking off the checkboxes as you scrolled. The mind-numbing work was a relief from your now terrifying life.

Your third call of the day and you were yawning into you hand. You lifted the receiver and leaned back in your chair. “Gem Vacations, how can I help you?”

“You sound tired,” The deep voice had you stalk straight in your seat.

“Excuse me?” You glanced around at the desks around you. Your co-workers unaware as they typed and chattered in their customer service voices.

“Come on, you know who this is,” He taunted and you gripped the edge of your desk.

“What do you want?” You lowered your voice as you hid behind your screen. “I’m at work.”

“Just checking in. How’s Ethan coping?” You didn’t answer and he chuckled. “Ah, I figured as much. Weak little boy.” He was nonchalant; cloying. “I was only trying to help him. Show him how it’s done, ya know?”

“Why are you doing this?” You rasped as you tried not to tremble.

“I’ve always been told that everything happens for a reason. I never took it as more than an empty cliche.” You could hear his smirk. “But I figured I found you up there for a reason. All alone...what were the odds? It had to be for something, right?”

“No,” You answered evenly.

“So, where are you staying now that Ethan’s tucked his tail and run?” Again, you stayed silent. “Ah, don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. Maybe...your sister’s? She seems like a nice girl. You’re pretty close, so it’s only natural--”

“Leave her out of this,” You struggled not to raise your voice. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“No, it’s all about you, girl,” He snarled. “So, let’s not make it about anyone else by doing anything stupid. Understood?”

Your blood went cold and you leaned your chin in your hand as you tried not to scream. “Please, just leave me alone.” You slammed the receiver down harder than you meant to and stood. You rushed to the bathroom and locked yourself in as your ears rang. You felt a buzz in your pocket and pulled out your cell phone. Private Caller. You answered, knowing who it was already.

“Now, now, we don’t do that, okay?” Steve warned from the other end. “Because that was stupid.” You swallowed as you stared at the painting of roses hung over the toilet. “Answer me.”

“Okay, okay, I’m--sorry,” Your breath shattered out of you.

“Good,” He replied sharply, “So this is how it’s going to go. I’m out of town at the moment. Business, you see? But I’ll be back soon. So, if you want me to leave Gia alone, you’ll keep me distracted, won’t you?”

“Yes,” You answered through gritted teeth.

“That’s ‘yes, Captain’,” He corrected, “With a little less attitude, girl.”

“Yes, Captain,” You softened your tone as you leaned against the door weakly.

“Good girl,” He preened from the speaker, “Now, go on and get back to work.”

The line died and you slowly lowered your phone. You tucked it into your pocket and neared the sink. You stared at yourself in the mirror; your eyes heavy with sleep, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Now, you had lost everything.

-

A few days into your stay on Gia’s floor and you finally found the time to visit the grocery store. You had cleaned out her cupboards and take out was growing pricey. You had a list, a budget, and a focus. Get everything you needed and get out. Life had become a series of tasks. Concentrate on this, then this, then this. You looked for any distraction to keep your fear from bubbling past your stomach. When you did have a chance to think, you were ready to vomit. 

Steve said he would be back soon. When was soon? Despite your efforts, these intrusive thoughts poked through. The dread. The presence that followed you around. From your air mattress to the bus seat to your office chair. The shadow loomed over you like the hawk over the field mouse. That was exactly what you felt like. A helpless critter to Steve. A repulsive rodent to Ethan.

The rush of people with their carts and baskets helped ease you. When you were around crowds, you felt safer. Before it had been the opposite. He was gone. Don’t think about it. Cereal. That was next. Did you want the granola with protein or the sugary childhood indulgence? You pondered the decision as if it were life changing. Every minute felt like your last.

You sighed and dug your heel into the floor. You weren’t a child anymore. Naivety was long gone. You reached for the organic oats. The box was swiped from your grasp before you fingers could grasp it and you followed the thick hand up the muscles arm to its owner. Your lips parted and you stepped back instinctively. You glanced behind you, Gia still at the other end of the aisle. She was focused on finding the right blend of coffee beans. She always used the in store grinder and...it was a whole process.

You turned back and tried to grab another box of cereal. Steve caught your hand and pushed it back down. You kept your eyes away from him and bit down on your anger. “What’s the matter? You don’t seem the impatient type.” Your eyes flitted over to him and your nostrils flared. “I tried to be quick but...shit never goes as planned.”

Your irritation quickly dissipated to fear. The fact that he was truly there was much more startling than your nightmares. Than the anxiety which had strung together his absence. You peeked over your shoulder at Gia and heard the granola shake in its cardboard shell. You turned back as Steve shook the box as if for a pet.

“Ask nicely and I’ll give it back,” You realized he was toying with you. “Might even leave before she notices me.”

“Please,” You tried to keep calm as you stared up at him. You were still utterly confused by the man. The last you had heard of him he had been the valiant American patriot turned stubborn refugee. Now he was your own personal nightmare. “May I have the cereal?”

He smirked and held it out to you. He watched as you took it and his eyes darkened. They slipped down and he licked his lips as he stared at the collar of your shirt. “Midnight. Eastern Vale Hotel. Room 346.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I’d suggest you show up on time cause I won’t wait long before I come find you…” His eyes strayed past you, “And I might just find someone else, too.”

He backed away and grabbed a box of instant oatmeal from beside him. He pretended to read the ingredients as he strolled casually down the aisle and around the corner. You squeezed the box in your hands, almost crushing it as it crumpled at the edges. You shook your head and tossed it in the cart. Gia approached with a bag of coffee; you could smell it even before she placed it in the basket of the cart.

“They have free trade beans now,” She peered into the cart. “Mmm, maple nut?”

“They have very berry. We can switch.” You offered as you leaned on the handle. You’d rather one untainted by the super soldier.

“No, not, it’s cool. I like maple.” She shrugged. “Oh! I almost forgot. We desperately need toilet paper.” 

You followed her as she marched ahead of the cart and you sighed. As you turned down the next aisle your eye caught a broad silhouette near the check out. Steve smiled as he placed the box of oatmeal on a shelf of chocolate bars and stepped over the chain that marked the counter as closed. He winked just before you disappeared down the row of paper towels and wipes.

-

Eastern Vale Hotel was far. You almost didn’t get there in time. Gia had taken her time that night, her usual procrastination as bedtime neared. Alas, she had an opening shift and you tiptoed out quietly as you her fan began to whir. You locked the door carefully behind you and rushed down to the street. You jogged to the next block and hopped in a vacant cap, numbly reciting the name of the hotel.

When you arrived, you had only a few minutes to climb the three flights to the room. You didn’t want to chance waiting for the elevator as it lagged. You counted the rooms until you reached 346 and you shivered. You raised your hand to knock but the door opened before your knuckles landed against the wood.

“Thought I heard you hiding out here,” Steve greeted. He wore nothing but a pair of jeans as the television babbled in the background. You stared past him into the room. You couldn’t bring yourself to step past the threshold as your entire being seized with dread. “Well, you gonna come in or should I just fuck you out here? Think the hotel might have a policy against that.”

You shook your head and stepped inside as he pressed himself to the door. You gulped as the lock clicked behind you and looked around the room. It was a pretty decent hotel. It was at least preferable to the Motel8. He followed close enough that you could feel his heat against you. You tried to move away from him but he caught the waist of your pants held you in place.

“Come on, let’s not play shy. Boyfriend’s gone, you’re on your sister’s couch. Really, I’m all you’ve got now. Best enjoy it while it lasts.” Your nostrils flared and you turned to slap him. He caught your hand and brought you against him. He bent your hand back until your wrist threatened to snap. “You really wanna play rough?”

Fuck. You had already messed up. He released your hand and you hissed in pain. He grabbed your neck instead and pushed you away from him. He led you back at arms length, his grasp unyielding. Your knees hit the side of the bed and you clung to his wrist as you struggled not to stumble. He released you with a light slap on your cheek.

“That’s a warning.” His fingers tugged at the vee of your shirt. “If you’re not naked in one minute, I’ll mean it next time.”

His jaw clenched and he back away with a sneer. You looked down to hide the chatter of your teeth and bent to remove your sneakers and socks. Next your pants as you blocked out the reality of his presence. You knew you couldn’t avoid it. You were here. You were trapped. This man had shown you there was no escape. Then your shirt as you stood straight, your bra and panties with resignation. You piled your clothes beside his on the couch near the end of the bed next to his.

He grabbed your upper arm and shoved you towards the bed. “Sit,” He ordered as he released you. You lowered yourself and he stood before you. He was naked. His cock was already hard. He stared down at you, his blue eyes pondered you and he stepped back. He turned and neared the small fridge just beside the television. “You think a drink would help you relax?”

You shook your head and looked down. The offer made your stomach turn. You didn’t need his meager kindness. You didn’t want to make this easier for him.

“No? Fine with me. Stuff tastes like shit to me and it doesn’t even give me a buzz.” He shrugged and neared once more. He sat beside you, his thick thigh against yours. It was even more obvious how much bigger he was than you. How much stronger he was. “You could try, I mean, we both know you enjoy yourself. You just can’t help it.”

“Fuck off,” You stiffened and made to stand.

He caught you and pulled you back down. He pushed you back against the bed, your legs bent over the side as he held you to the mattress. He leaned over you, his breath hot on your cheek, and he snarled. “You can try not to like it, but I know you will. And you can try to resist, but it’s going to happen. So, you can stay still and be a good girl or you can be a bitch and I can treat you like dog you are.” 

He tugged on your hair until your exclaimed. The tears rose in your eyes and you forced out a response. “Okay, okay, ow. Just let go.”

“Two strikes,” He released you and stood. 

He planted himself in front of you and pushed your knees apart. You closed your eyes as you let him move your legs. He gripped your thighs and you felt his weight against you as he lowered himself to kneel before you. You peeked down at him and hid your surprise. His gaze was fixed on your pussy.

He bowed his head and you squeezed your eyes shut once more. You felt his breath against you and shivered. His hands kneaded your thighs. He didn’t fail to notice the tremble. He nuzzled your little tuft of hair and you struggled not to squirm. You weren’t ready for this. You had braced yourself for his usual gruffness, but nothing so intimate. It was an act of dominance in itself. He knew you would quickly dissemble.

As his tongue met your pussy you inhaled sharply. You clawed at the blanket and bunched it in your fists. Your back arched without thinking and your toes pointed. He dragged his tongue deliberately up and down your folds. You swallowed back the moan that bubbled in your throat. Your thighs tensed and he squeezed them. He could feel the instinctual reaction of your body.

He lapped again and again. Several times before his tongue swirled around your clit. That surprised you and a squeak escaped your lips. The sound only encouraged him. He circled his tongue over and over. Suckled as your legs began to close. He pushed your thighs to the side of his head as he buried his face between your legs and you rasped through bared teeth. You couldn’t fight the surge. 

You slapped your hand over your mouth as you cried out in ecstasy. Your thighs clamped around Steve’s head and your back arched. The electricity flooded through you until you were left breathless and weak. Your legs hung over his shoulders as the after waves rolled over you. You rarely came so fast.

“I told you,” Steve taunted as he wiped his mouth. 

He grabbed your ankles and stood. You thought to turn and crawl away from him but you hear this threat echo in your head; ‘Two strikes’. A third would no doubt lead to worse. He leaned your legs against him as he stepped closer. He reached down and angled his cock against your entrance. He gave no warning as he pushed inside. You whimpered and balled your hands around the blanket at your sides. The bed shifted beneath you.

He lifted your ass from the mattress and bottomed out. You grit your teeth as his hands gripped your hips. He pulled out of you and thrust back in as hard as he could. You exclaimed at the pain. He repeated his motion and your hands latched onto his as he used your body. Your weight rested on your shoulders as you hung at an angle atop the bed. You felt the familiar bloom and swore. 

“You gonna cum?” He teased. “Hmm? I can see it.” He grunted as he rocked into you, your moans grew louder by the moment. “You just can’t handle a real man can you?” You mewled and felt the gush around his cock as you came. “There it is. Look at you. So messy.”

You growled as you tried to withhold another orgasm but were surprised by another eruption. The phone rang but Steve did not slow. He reached over and grabbed the receiver, his voice strained as he answered; his heady breaths uncensored. “Yeah?” He raised a brow at the chatter from the other end. He shrugged and sped up. “Sure, whatever.”

He hung up and snarled. He pushed you further up on the bed and shoved his knees on the mattress beside you. Your legs were bent to your chest as he raised his pelvis and slammed back into you. You cried out in double-edged pain. Despite how rough he was, it felt so delicious. He brought his hand up and clasped it over your mouth.

“They said we gotta shut up,” He rasped in your ear. His motion never wavered as he folded you beneath him. He delved even deeper than before and you came with a whine into his palm.

He hammered into you and you were certain the bed frame would collapse. You moaned against his hand; the smell of his sweat filled your nostrils. His dark blond hair hung around his head and tickled your cheek. He slowed to sharp jabs and plunged decisively to his limit as a deep grunt tensed his body. He rode out his climax as his cum burst within you.

He stilled and rested his weight atop you. He hung his head and his hand slipped from your mouth. His breath evened out, humid against your neck, and he clung to you as he suddenly rolled over. He took you with him so you were atop him and you looked down at him with dazed eyes.

“Fuck me,” He ordered. You blinked at him in confusion and he smacked your ass. “Move.”

You carefully began to rock your hips. Your sensitive clit rubbed against him and you shuddered. He kneaded your ass as you balanced yourself with hands against his chest.

“Faster,” His eyes followed the movement of your body and his hands followed. He cupped your breasts and flicked the nipples as he played with them. He squeezed them together as you followed his direction. “Faster.” He said again and his hands slipped to your waist. “That’s it.” He said as you bucked against him wildly; both in obedience and an effort to catch your budding orgasm. “You’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?”

You threw your head back and pressed your lips together to keep from crying out. Your nails dug into his flesh as you orgasmed and you eased yourself down from the crest. He sat up and hooked his arms under your legs and you clung to him to keep from falling off. He stood with you aloft, legs bent and wide as he kept you on his cock. 

He walked across the room as if you weighed nothing. You felt a cool breeze along your back and glanced over your shoulder as he neared the window. It was open just a crack, the curtains pulled back entirely. He pushed your back against the glass and you wriggled helpless in his grasp. 

“You don’t wanna draw attention to yourself, do you?” He hooked your legs around his waist as he spoke. “Better hold on.”

You hooked your legs around him as he pinned your wrists against the window. He thrust into you, resuming the same harsh pace as before. You felt the glass strain and your eyes widened. If the window broke, you were fucked. Given the force with which he was fucking you, if you didn’t hold on, you’d go flying down the next block.

“Did Ethan not fuck you good enough, huh?” The mention of his name made you blanch. Your sweaty back stuck to the window as he jolted your body against it and you surrendered. This was what you were now. Ethan was gone and you were just...this. A thing to be used. Humiliated. “ You’re so fucking tight.  Goddamn.”

He swore and bottomed out. He filled you once more with his cum and you closed your eyes as the wave of euphoria was replaced by revulsion. With him. With yourself. You shook as he let go of your wrists and you leaned against him to get away from the glass. He his hands went to your ass and he turned back to the room.

“I was thinking the couch next? Maybe the chair?” He snickered as he crossed the room. “Then we can clean up in the shower…”

-

tags to be added in reblog

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Two Minutes to Midnight: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,728

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

You make eye contact with Dean and grip your scythe tighter. They are small ones, but you know they will get the job done. So, to not make any noise, you lead quietly through the pizzeria. Does Death know you’re here? Can anyone sneak up on him? It seems like it’s working, but the closer you get, the hotter the scythe is becoming.

The handle is quickly burning up, and apparently, the same thing is happening to Dean. At the same time, you and Dean drop the scythes onto the floor because it’s become unbearable to touch. And, of course, it makes a loud noise when it hits the floor. You wince and stare at Death in hopes he didn’t hear you.

“Thanks for returning those,” Death speak. You look down only to realize the scythes are gone. Instead, they are at the table, and as one. You and Dean had two small ones, and Death merged them together to form one big one. “Join me, Dean and Y/N. The pizza is delicious. Sit down. Took you long enough to find me. I've been wanting to talk to you.”

There is nothing else left to do but listen to what he says. If you can’t kill him to get the ring, then maybe you can convince him to give it up? Whatever the case may be, you needed to listen to what he says right now. You and Dean take a seat across from him carefully. You need to act wise or else you’re dead.

“So is this the part where… where you kill us?” Dean stutters.

“You have an inflated sense of your importance. To a thing like me, a thing like you two, well... think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old, Dean. Very old. So, I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you,” he says as he picks at his food.

He takes two pieces of pizza and place them on the plates in front of you.

“Eat,” he gestures to the pizza. The look in his eyes tells you that he isn’t joking about this. You look at Dean once more before taking your utensils and cutting into the thick pie. You take a bite and chew slowly in case he’s poisoned it. “Good, isn’t it?”

“Well, I got to ask. How old are you?” you wonder.

“As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, or egg. Regardless—at the end, I'll reap him, too.”

“God? You'll reap God?” Dean asks in shock.

“Oh, yes. God will die, too, Dean. Amara as well. They aren’t as powerful as you deem them to be.”

“So, then why are we still breathing, sitting here with you? Uh… w-what do you want?” Dean stutters.

“I want the leash around my neck gone. Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you two to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, even raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum.”

“And you think we can unbind you?” you ask.

“There's your ridiculous bravado again. Of course you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun. I understand you want this,” he says and holds up his right hand that houses his ring.

“Yeah.”

“I'm inclined to give it to you.”

“To give it to us?

“That's what I said,” he says quickly.

“But what about Chicago? All these people?” you ask sincerely.

“I suppose it can stay. I like the pizza. However, there are conditions.”

“What are they?”

“You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell,” he says seriously as he takes off his ring.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Whatever it takes.”

“That's the plan,” Dean nods.

“No. No plan. Not yet. Your brother. He's the one that can stop Lucifer. The only one. So, I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit. Do I have your word?”

Dean stares at Death like he’s actually considering this. Can you blame him? This is Sam he’s talking about. Is Sam really worth the entire world? One person against billions? Would you do the same thing if Dean or your dad’s life was on the line? Dean doesn’t know what to do, so he does the first thing that comes to mind.

“Okay, yeah. Yes.”

“That had better be ‘yes’, Dean. You know you can't cheat death,” Death warns and drops the ring in Dean’s open hand. You did it; you got all four. “Now, would you like the instruction manual?”

“Well, how'd it go at the Rockettes audition?” Dean asks back at your dad’s yard.

Sam is inside with Casteil fixing each other’s wounds while you, Dean, and your dad are outside talking.

“Well, high kicks—fair. Boobs need work,” he jokes. “I walked up and down the stairs all night for no damn reason. I'm sore. Feels so good, I'm scared it's a dream. But then I remember that the world's dying bloody, so, drink?”

Your dad hands Dean a beer, and offers you one, but you shake your head. This is clearly a moment for your dad and Dean. The rings of all four horsemen are on the table, and with your vast knowledge of how the rings work, all you have to do is lure the devil to a place where there aren’t a lot of people to get hurt.

“Check it out,” Dean says and shows your dad what the ring can do.

One ring sits in the middle while the other three are scattered around it. As soon as Dean moves Death’s ring closer to the middle, the other two follow until they are stuck to each other like glue.

“So death told you how to operate those? The whole deal?”

“Yeah. It's nuts. Of course, we got bigger problems now.”

“Really? Like what?”

“What do you think Death does to people who lie to his face?”

“Nothing good.”

“Stupid idea is what it was,” you scoff.

Dean rolls his eyes but chooses not to comment on your comment. Your dad focuses the topic on Death and what Dean lied about, but your attention is somewhere else. A phone is ringing from inside the Impala that sits ten feet away. You walk away from the men to see if it’s your phone since you left it in there.

It’s not yours, it’s Dean, and it’s sitting on his seat for anyone to come up and take it. You open the door and grab it, taking a seat inside to see who messaged him. He got a text message from… Lisa? Why the fuck is she sending him messages? What encouraged this? Has he been contacting her without you knowing? It’s not right, but you open the message anyway.

I’m really glad you came over. It seems you have a lot on your mind with what Y/N did and all. I still can’t believe she did what she did. I know I can’t change it, but my door is always open. I hope you use it soon because I really miss you.

He told Lisa about what you did? Why was he going to her in the first place? What right does he have telling other people your business anyway? You two get in a fight and the first thing he thinks to do is go to her? What the hell does she have that you don’t? Why is he even thinking about her at a time like this?

You look up to see only Dean left at the table, and you take this moment to address this concern.

“You went to Lisa?” you ask and get out of the car.

“What are you talking about?”

“My door is always open. I really miss you. I’m really glad you came over,” you read from the phone. “You have got to fucking kidding me.”

“Why are you reading my messages?” he asks angrily and gets up.

He snatches the phone from your hand, checks the message, and puts the phone in his pocket.

“Why did you go to her, Dean? How could you? You know how I feel about her.”

“Yeah, well, at the moment, I couldn’t care less. It was actually refreshing to be around someone who didn't throw away my child,” he glares.

“Get over it!” you scream at him. “God you’re so fucking annoying! Let it go!”

“I’m tired of having this fight every time you open up your big mouth! Maybe I’ll visit Lisa again tonight and see how she’s doing. At least I’ll be away from you!”

“I can’t fucking believe you right now. You’re not the Dean I know. What have you done with him?”

“He grew the fuck up, Y/N. He realized that his best friend, the love of his life, would lie to his face and get rid of the family he craves. That’s what you did, Y/N. Forget Amara, Lucifer, and the damn apocalypse. You did this because I’m not fit to be a father, and you wanted to save me the pain.”

“You have got to be out of your damn mind to think that! You know that’s not the reason!” you groan.

“It doesn’t matter, because Ben loves having me around. If I can’t have a family with you, then I guess I’ll join the one that's waiting for me,” he glares.

He’s done having this conversation over and over again. He didn’t explicitly state the words, but you know you and Dean are done. Your brain is telling you to break it off and move on, but there is a sliver of hope that you can restore this. If there is any way you can make this right, it’s with Lucifer. If you can somehow defeat him, then maybe you can show Dean there is nothing you’re afraid of.

Then maybe he can start letting you back into his life.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@sing4mejensen​ @essie1876​ @gh0stgurl​ @redsalv20​ @superrandomnatural​ @scarletmeii​ @babypink224221​ @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo​ @akshi8278​ @a--1--1--3​ @kendlemariee​ @miraclesoflove​ @earthtokace​ @teamfreewillsstuff​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @kiwihoee​ @jennazeise​ @phantomalchemist​ @posiemax​ @22sarah08​ @tricksterdean​ @andi-mendes-barnes​ @put-my-favorite-record-on​ @countrygal17a​ @whit85-blog​ @sammypotato67​ @knowledgefulbutterfly​ @fandomoverdose666​ @sharp-cheekbones-locked​ @deanloveboi​ @dream-believe-and-love​ @brokenheartscrybrokentears​

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Overlooked Flowers pt.3 (Good end)

If you asked me to tag you, I'm not ignoring you, I just don't know what I'm doing yet and have to do all this from my phone.

Please enjoy!

Something wasn't right. It kept eating at him. You may have been reclusive lately, but you would always answer immediately, a minute at the most. However, It's been twenty since he asked you to 'hang out'. He missed you. He didn't like that you were pushing him away.

He stood up from his couch and headed towards the door.

"You're going to see her, aren't you?" Chloe's voice called from behind him. She had been spending more and more nights at his apartment. When things were good, he didn't mind, but things rarely stayed merry for long and when that happened, he felt like an intruder in his own home. During these times, he wished you would let him come over. He was comfortable around you, able to be himself. Unlike now, where he is contemplating telling Chloe that he got a call from the DPD, from Hank, or Markus, just to avoid the argument that telling the truth was sure to spawn. In the end, his preconstructions informed him of his low success rate, deciding it really didn't matter. He only gave a moment's pause before slipping his boots on.

"I have to. I think something's wrong."

"If you leave, I won't be here when you come back, " her voice had a dangerous edge to it. This was not the first time he had put you above her. They had many arguments about it, but it was about to be the last.

He looked over his shoulder before opening the door.

"I'm sorry."

And with that, he left.

Climbing into his car, Connor was surprised how easy it was to cut ties with Chloe. They had been in a relationship for two months now, and he did care for her. Surely this should affect him on some emotional level, but all that he could feel is dread. You still haven't answered him, even as he sent several more messages and tried calling you. It was making him frantic, pushing him to switch to manual steering, speeding around corners and intersections.

He managed to get to your house in record time. A knock and a call of your name only prompted your cat to start mewling loudly, but he knew you were home. He banged on your door before finally giving up on formalities and trying the handle. He was surprised to find it unlocked, panic surging through his artificial veins. It all came to a stop when he found you on the floor, reaching for your phone with blood-soaked fingers.

"Y/n!"

Wasting no time, he called for an ambulance as he bolted to your side. You were surrounded by flower petals stained a deep red. A quick scan confirmed his suspicions.

Hanahaki disease.

The roots were so entangled within that his scanner was having trouble differentiating between the roots and your arteries. He could see how they twisted around your inner workings, each it's own form of agony, and he could see where several had punctured through your lungs, slowly flooding your airways.

Carefully, he scooped you up and cradled you to his chest. The movement set off another fit, but it was weak, you being too tired to fight against it anymore.

"Help is on the way, just hang on, " his voice was strained, forcing the words out in an effort to calm you when you both knew they wouldn't be able to help. The accursed plant was too large now and unless it perished it would cause just as much damage to try and remove it.

Your glossy eyes fought to focus on him, mouthing his name but unable to say it, only a gurgled cough escaped along with more flower petals. The sound crushed his heart. He didn't know what to do. At this point, he wishes you had been assaulted by a burglar. At least then he would be able to attend to your wounds. How can he stop a flower from growing? Who could you love so much that you would die for them?

"Why? Why didn't you tell me?" His eyes welled up with tears, dripping down his face and onto your cheeks. He wants to find the person responsible. To break them to match how broken you are. Only an idiot could deny the chance to be with you.

Unable to speak, you reached your hand up, cupping his face, thumb rubbing against his cheek, wiping away his tears. He could feel a warm wetness from your palm, knowing it was likely your blood, but he didn't care. He leaned into your touch, placing one of his hands over yours.

Your lips moved, mouthing the words that made him realize that he was the idiot. A sob escaped him, watching as you slipped in and out of consciousness. Your hand went limp against his cheek.

"Please... Don't go... Don't leave me, " he sobbed, pulling you closer, "I... I love you. I love you so much." How could he be so stupid? You gave him everything he asked so freely, and he had mistaken the feelings that had bloomed as friendship rather than something more, something deeper. He can't lose you. "I love you, " he whispered against your ear as he held you closer against his chest.

You sharply gasped, eyes wide before you began a fresh wave of coughing, this one far more violent. It was in this moment that the paramedics burst through the door, shoving the android out of the way and rushing you to the back of the ambulance. He didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. All you left behind was a single, dead petal. He picked it up and clutched it to his chest.

You were in surgery for 17 hours as android and human alike worked together to repair the damage and remove the now dead, shriveled plant from within your inner workings. 17 hours with no news as Connor paced the entire time, still clutching the withered petal against him. Seeing it, feeling its course surface, he is reminded there is a chance. That, with it dead, you could be saved.

Hank stopped by during the tenth hour, after hearing what happened when Connor didn't show up for his shift. Hank had known you were sick, caught you coughing into a black handkerchief, the color likely hiding the blood. Anytime he asked you about it, you brushed him off, eventually snapping at him to leave you alone. He had no idea what it was, or that it was this bad. Had he had known, he wouldn't have been so quick to back off. Of course, being what it is, you likely would have continued on your self-destructive path, unwilling to lose your emotions. Can't really blame ya. As much as he wished to stop feeling after Cole, he couldn't imagine life without them, like a machine.

"Connor, sit your ass down, she's gonna be fine," Hank groused. he wasn't very confident about his declaration, he's seen what hanahaki can do to a person, but he'd say anything if it would calm his partner down, make him get rid of that broken look on his face. Connor acknowledged him, sat for all of five minutes, clutching something in his hand, before standing back up and returning to pacing back and forth.

Where the hell was Chloe? Wait, scratch that. Connor, looking like a stiff breeze could blow him over, over another woman, a woman even Hank thought he was gonna get serious with, and, to top it off, the woman is only dying because of him... yeah, if he were Chloe, he wouldn't be here either. probably would've dumped his ass.

"Wearin' a path into the floor ain't gonna make them work any faster. Just calm down." Connor looked over at him, the sight breaking the old man's heart.

"I can't."

That was all he could get out of the devastated android. He stood, grabbing Connor by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight embrace. The RK800 stood frozen for a moment before a sob escaped his throat, hands gripping tightly at the lieutenant's coat. Hank held him, feeling him quake with every hushed cry.

"She'll be alright, she'll pull through," he consoled, a few tears escaping his own eyes as his heart ached for his boy. After a long while, Connor had finally calmed down, releasing his death grip on Hank's jacket and pulling back, giving the man a brief, wry smile.

"Thanks, Hank, " he breathed, letting it out while wiping at his face. Glancing at his, now empty, hands, Connor looked to the ground, searching urgently for something. Before Hank could question it, he seemed to have found what he was looking for, watching him pick up what looked like a small, old leaf.

"Whatcha got there?" Connor hesitantly held it out for him to see, as if Hank would snag it away like he had done with so many of his quarters.

"She had coughed it up right when the paramedics showed up, " he pulled it back to his chest.

"So it died?" Hank sounded incredulous, eyeing the android.

"I... I told her I love her..."

The grizzled lieutenant merely nodded. The plant could only die if genuine feelings are expressed. He had to bite his tongue against saying 'bout damn time', knowing that would only worsen the poor kid's pain. He had no idea, and you were willing to die rather than voice your feelings, claiming to want Connor to 'find his own way'. Hank knew better. You were scared. Once you were better, Hank was gonna give you an earful for letting fear and pride blind you and damn near kill you.

Hank was there for another three hours before Fowler called him. He was adamant about staying, but Connor urged him to go, only agreeing under the condition that he is informed the second you were out of surgery.

………..

The head surgeon came out, informing him of the damage he already knew of and all the work needed to pull you back from the brink. You weren't out of the woods, but you were stable. He was thankful that you had listed him as your emergency contact, as when they tried to explain you were still in bad shape and resting, he went to your room anyway. He had to see you, no matter what state you are in.

You had so many machines hooked to you, and your frail form seemed more so against the stark white bed. Connor sat in the chair beside you, taking one of your fragile hands between his own, the petal he had clung to this entire time, now resting in his breast pocket. He watched as your chest gently rose and fell, but it felt so artificial, being forced in by the tube down your throat. A scan of your body revealed all the work that had gone in to save you, and the devastation the plant had wreaked. He watched your heart, beating at a languid pace, matching the slow beeps of the monitor. It was weak, but it was there.

Your face was so pale, and you looked so worn. How long had you been battling against the manifestation of your lament? Why couldn't you have just told him? So many nights spent lying tangled together... why didn't you ask him to stay? Had he understood human emotions more, understood his own better...

There was no going back, now.

he stayed by your side, unmoving even as the nurses would try to tell him that you needed your rest, to come back during visitor hours. Knowing of your condition deterred them from doing much else. He only moved when the nurses needed to care for you, returning to your side the second they were done. He asked Hank to care for your cat. Connor felt terrible for leaving the feline alone after it had witnessed such a tragic event, but he couldn't leave you, not again. Whatever happens now, he will be here, by your side.

Two days passed with no change. Hank stopped by a couple of times, but he didn't stay for long, feeling like he was intruding. He would ask if Connor wanted anything and if he thought of something, just let him know. A couple of your friends had stopped by as well, the few that still cared for you even as you pushed them away. Once they learned what happened, they realized what you were doing, what you had done to hide your illness. They left little gifts, as flowers felt a little inappropriate, considering the situation, wishing you well. One brought a fleece blanket, knowing how much you loved the soft material and how you hated feeling cold. How ironic it was that your favorite season was Winter. Most ignored his existence, though two glared at him. How could he blame them, sitting here, going over memory after memory. It was there, your feelings written in everything you did. how he did not see was beyond him.

A jarring sound broke him from his thoughts. A sustained beep resonating from your monitor. Panicked, he scanned your chest to find your heart still, lifeless. A few nurses burst in, paging for a doctor while trying to resuscitate you. They knocked him out of the way, and he watched in horror as they fought to bring you back.

"Don't go," he whimpered, seeing them bring out the paddles. Your body jumped when they pressed them down to your chest, the monitor hiccuping before flatlining once more. He couldn't handle it. His chest aching in a way he had never experienced before, making him want to rip his own thirium pump out to make it stop.

"DON'T GO!!!" he cried out despairingly. One of the nurses looked to him in annoyance.

"Get him out of here." Two large men came up, attempting to grab him. He struggled and fought, trying to remain with you. One of them punched him in the temple...

He jolted in his seat, unaware of his surroundings for a second. He was still in your hospital room. You remained in bed, unaware of the outside world.

At some point, he had slipped into stasis, the stress bleeding into his dreamscape, resulting in the horrible nightmare that left him trembling. You had not gone into cardiac arrest. You had not left him. A diagnostic told him he had entered low power mode for 7 hours. He couldn't believe so much time had passed and he didn't notice. Still, he picked up your hand and held your wrist against his ear, listening to the steady pulse. It was enough for now.

The soothing thumps kept lulling the emotionally drained android in and out of stasis. Though, with the added reassurance, it was a dreamless slumber, his body merely processing background information and attempting to maintain, if not lower, his elevated stress level by shutting down as many systems as it could without causing issues. The hours passed by in what felt like minutes.

The following day, they decided to remove your artificial breathing. The doctor observed as the android nurse removed the tube from your throat. Connor watched with bated breath, fear striking him like lightning each second your chest remained still. Finally, you sucked in a harsh breath, gasping a few times before your breathing stabilized, slow and uneven and very much alive. A tear escaped his eye as relief washed over him.

On day nine, a tug at his hands and the loss of your warmth against his face brought him out of stasis once more.

Your eyes were fluttering open, hands going into the blanket, balling the material up in your fists.

"Ahh," you gasped, eyes wide as tears began to form. Your monitor began beeping faster, heart racing as you struggled to figure out what was happening. Your rapid breathing irritated your damaged throat, triggering a coughing fit, making it worse. You pulled at the iv in your arm, panic rising. Connor quickly pulled your hand away before you could get it out, then paged a nurse. He put his hand on your cheek, trying to get your attention.

"Y/n, it's alright, you're at the hospital," he was unsure if his words were registering in your pain-laced mind, "I've got you... I've got you."

Your coughing eased as your breathing started to slow, but the tears continued to fall. There was some blood on your lips, prompting Connor to scan you. Luckily, there was minimum damage, nothing that would require you to go back into surgery. The nurse finally showed up. Seeing the situation, she promptly left again, grabbing a needle and injecting your IV with liquid relief. Your hand gripped his free hand tightly before you were out once more. It was an intense interaction, but you had awakened. He planted a small kiss on your brow, wiping your tears away and dabbing away the blood, promptly returning to his previous position, feeling more hopeful than before. He didn't let go of your hand.

You were improving, and soon he would be able to tell you how he feels, without fear and despair enveloping everything. When you are better, he might even scold you a bit for keeping such a huge secret from your "best friend". He wondered what will they be now? "Dating", as he had classified him and Chloe? Or, perhaps, "girlfriend and boyfriend" as Chloe had labeled them? Than again, considering all that the two of you have done in the past, would it be the title of " lovers"? He supposes he'll leave those titles for you to decide, as long as he can label you "mine" and you do the same in return.

It would be two more days before you would regain consciousness again. Hank had brought him spare clothes the previous day, as when you had woken up, something within himself woke up as well. He felt more alive than the previous days, more himself.

With it, he noticed how disheveled he was, pointing out that he was still wearing the clothes from the night he had found you, the blood long dried and beyond smelling like copper to a rancid scent that could not be healthy. In his trance, he had not noticed, but now, he was certain you would not appreciate the foul air once you woke up again. Most of the blood on his cheek had been washed away by his tears, but some still remained, sticking to his face unpleasantly. He borrowed the bathroom that was adjacent to your bed, washing his face and hands before switching clothes. He wanted to look presentable for when you awoke again.

He had also requested for an extra sweater, which he draped over you. In one of his memories, he had forgotten his sweater at your house. When he went to retrieve it, he found that you were sleeping, the sweater held close to your chest. At the time, he thought you were cold, as the blanket was kicked off of you, so he carefully took his sweater from your arms and pulled the blanket up. Seeing it now, he cringed, having realized that was probably the worst conclusion and action he could have come up with.

When you awoke, it was not nearly as dramatic as the last time. Your eyes were slow to focus, and you kept trying to look around, confused. Eventually, your eyes found him, beginning to fill with tears. You tried to say something, but with your dry, damaged throat, all that came out was a breathy wheeze.

"Don't speak. You could further injure yourself." You nodded slightly, placing your hand over his. He picked it up and brought it to his lips. You smiled, one he matched with his own. With your free hand, you gestured, asking for some water.

"They don't want you drinking too much while your throat is swollen, but I'll see if you can have some ice." He tries to stand, but you tighten your grip on his hand, distressed.

"I'll be right back, " he bent down, gently placing a kiss on your lips, " and I'm not going anywhere."

"I…l…ve…ou, " your voice was barely there, but it was enough to make Connor's heart swell.

"I love you, too." It felt like a great weight had been lifted off his chest, watching your smile widen as you gently tugged on his tie to bring him back to your lips. He was sure he looked goofy, unable to keep himself from grinning.

……..

Hank came by a few hours later. He found Connor lying across your lap, his lower half propped up on a chair. One of your hands was tangled in his hair, your thumb caressing his crown. Your other hand was being held by his, breaking contact only when you needed to pop an ice cube into your mouth. You were both watching the tv across from your bed, some crime show, acting as if you were both simply at home and not in a hospital room after you almost kicked the bucket. You both had your own suspects, Connor using the evidence to explain his. Hank had no idea what you were saying. You would tap on Connor's head to get his attention so he could read your lips. Based on the scrap of paper by your bed, you both had been at this for a while, one check by your name, three by Connor's and five under both. Neither of you even noticed him until he cleared is throat. You seemed happy to see him, giving him a wave and a smile.

"Hello, Hank." Connor regarded him. If he didn't know better, he never would have guessed this was the same android that was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown not even two weeks ago and who had been sitting here since, the poster-child for depression.

"Don't you fuckin' 'hi Hank' me!" Hank barked, and instinctively you shrunk down into the sheets, avoiding eye contact. Connor sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet in the chair, "you two just gonna pretend nothing happened? You've been on the verge of killin' yerself, and now yer just chillin'? And you! You treat your friends like shit, quit yer job, almost kill yerself, and now yer sitting here, watching tv like it's any other regular day at home? Fuck you!"

"I-sor-ak! I-d-n't-an-" your words were incomprehensible, and Connor tried to tell you to stop, but it wasn't until you started coughing that you ceased. Connor glared at him.

"She can't even speak right now, what good would it do to chastise her?" When your fit ended, he held the cup of ice for you, taking one and slipping it into your mouth, "Besides, I've found, from personal experience, that near death experiences carry their own lesson."

"I'd believe that if you ever learned to listen to me, " Hank groused, hands crossed over his chest. Perhaps now was not the best time for this, but its hard not to get pissed off when the people who've you been scared shitless for are just laying about without a care in the world.

You tapped Connor, pointing to your lips and than to Hank. Catching on, he nodded and waited for you to start.

"I'm sorry, Hank, " Connor began, relaying your message by reading your lips, "I didn't want you to worry. I figured if everyone hated me it would hurt less when I was gone."

"Bullshit. Ya should've just told Connor, you fuckin' idiot!"

You scoffed, smiling at the lieutenant.

"Yep." You leaned forward and kissed Connor before settling back into the pillows, Connor following suit, laying back on your lap and taking your hand back in his.

"There's another chair over there, " Connor gestured to the far wall, "you're welcome to join us."

Hank shook his head before scoffing himself. Everything ended alright, might as well not dwell on what could have happened. He dragged the chair to the other side of your bed, jostling your hair before sitting down. You quickly fixed it before adding Hank to the roster, smiling at the makeshift family. To think you could have lost this. You really were an idiot, but you were an idiot in love, and it feels so much better when its reciprocated.

[chaoskirin]

The Seven Seas--Chapter Three

Fandom: Queen Genre: Sci-fi/Gen Rating: PG Chapter 3 Word Count: 1720

Freddie spent the next several hours (and hours and hours) pacing the barn and outlining a plan. For the sake of suspense, said plan will not be described here, although, wonderful readers, it might be described as amazing and daring! Filled with intricate precisiveness and wild creativity! Genius! And most importantly, incredibly unlikely to succeed!

Somewhere around the five o'clock mark, Roger ordered a pizza which never arrived due to the rather remote location of the farm. He spent the next excruciating hour complaining about his insatiable hunger, until John raided the chicken coop and fried some eggs.

Brian was torn between being appalled and relieved. After all, the chickens ought to be allowed to keep their eggs... since they made them, after all. Roger asked Brian what he thought cakes were made of, so Brian swore off cakes for at least the next couple days, at least until he could scrub the vision of affronted chickens out of his mind.

John said "at least they aren't being vaporized," which was quite sobering and put everyone directly back on task.

It should be said that the appearance of aliens on earth had a rather profound effect on Brian, who, up until that point, only hoped aliens existed. Ever the pragmatist, though, he never believed earth would make contact with the various other denizens of the universe until far after he was dead and buried. After all, relative physics still reigned supreme as the dominating theory of everything in the universe. And with no way to travel faster than the speed of light, aliens simply couldn't reach it from wherever they made their home.

Except they had. And they'd dropped by like a very undesirable relative during Christmas celebrations--everyone wanted them gone, but they had to be appeased and placated first. Perhaps even force-fed copious alcohol until they passed out in a peaceful stupor, while the kids drew fake marker mustaches under their noses.

"Do you think," Brian said to John after the four of them split into two groups. "Do you think they'd let me question them about the stars? How they got here? Where they're from?"

John blinked slowly.

"It's not a stupid idea to ask!" Brian insisted. "Just because they want to raze the planet doesn't mean I have to stop learning. And if they really think I'll spill all their secrets then they must not want to destroy me very much. I can't tattle if I'm dead. Don't you think?"

"If I say yes, will you get back to work?" John asked, flicking the end of a soldering iron at him.

Brian grunted and went back to poring over the star map Glasses left behind. He vastly preferred absolutes, whereas Freddie's "plan" just happened to be chock full of conjecture and dumb luck and a good measure of stupidity. Absolute stupidity, which Brian supposed counted as an absolute, just not the kind he wanted. That made him nervous, and therefore talkative.

"It's just..." he said as he tried to figure out Denmark's location in relation to an earth star chart. Thankfully, he never left home without one, just in case. "They could have the secrets of the whole universe stowed away on that little ship of theirs."

"And if they did, and you end up dead?" John asked. "What would you do with them?"

"Well, I'd know."

John rolled his eyes. He'd set aside the soldering gun in favor of a welding torch, and so he was able to dramatically flip the black welding mask down over his eyes to signal the end of conversation. The git. Brian looked away as John ignited the flame.

"I don't even know if it's in the right bloody hemisphere," Brian muttered to himself, returning to the star map. He couldn't read the alien language scrawled out across it, plus it appeared the aliens preferred some odd derivation of base-8 math... which meant he couldn't even parse their coordinates. He was sure it made sense to them, but in the moment, it was infuriating.

That meant he had to manually study every sector of the alien map, then line it up to the earth map. If he could figure out the first sector, he might be able to proceed. The problem was parallax. After all, why would the aliens make a map meant to be viewed from earth?

Damn parallax. Why couldn't all the species in the galaxy just decide on a standard map!

Meanwhile, John got to build... Well. Brian wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't just another cat tree for Freddie's cats.  Freddie assured everyone this little bit of the plan was critical, though. And it was up to Brian to find the proper angle of whatever it was so he could--

Ah. Wait a minute.

I'm sure you're all very bored by now, and I wouldn't blame you. After all, this is just filler really, since one can't just go from aliens arriving to aliens being defeated. The point is, all the great writers in history somehow universally decided that a story can't be told without costing its readers vast amounts of time when they should be doing other things. Say, filling their washing machine with lemonade, or ironing their socks, or stacking teacups on a sleeping cat. Or watching egg whites dry as they drip down the siding of your irritating neighbor's house. Not that the author has ever done that.

In order to create suspense and drama, most writers masterfully fill their stories with plot dynamics. However, this plot is fairly cut and dry as far as stories go, and the author is not masterful in any sense of the word, so she's just decided to waste your time with this rather pointless filler text.

However, as you've been reading this, Brian May--brilliant scientist that he is--has been using his time with all the wisdom and efficiency one would expect from a future astrophysicist. As John continued to weld his rather confusing scaffolding, Brian chanced upon the exact miniscule plot detail he could utilize to make sense of the alien map. Thusly did he shout "Eureka!" ending this particular section of the story.

You're welcome.

---

"You can't just write a whole song in one day," Roger said.

"Well, I don't intend to. We have five days," Freddie returned, straightening a bit in his seat and looking down his nose in haughty confidence. Into the phone, he said "No, I won't hold. I'm Freddie-Fucking-Mercury--What do you mean who??"

The line went dead. Not because the other side had hung up on him, but because rats had chewed clean through the phone line again. Bother of all bothers. If only he had his cats here, the damnable rats wouldn't be such an issue!

"Roger, be a dear and chase the rats off again, would you?" Freddie asked. When cats weren't an option, Rogers did just fine, and as a bonus, they didn't leave rodent corpses on your pillow in the morning. At least Freddie hoped they didn't. He probably should have asked.

"Five days or no," Roger said, returning from his chase, "the pressure must be intense. I mean, if it's going to work, it has to be perfect, doesn't it? No room for error. And you have to trust not only yourself to remember the lyrics, but you also have to have absolute faith in your bass player, and your guitar player, and your drummer who's a bit of a flake."

"Just a bit?"

"Last I checked."

Freddie tut-tutted. "It'll work. Look, it's a short story, and the author always writes happy endings. What makes you think it won't work?"

"Well, I have to be disagreeable, don't I?" Roger asked, flopping down on the couch next to Freddie. "Let's see what you've got so far."

Freddie handed over the notepad.

After a dozen quiet minutes of earnest contemplation, Roger said, "All you've written is the title."

"The Seven Seas of Rhye," Freddie declared. "It's a good title! I was thinking a sort of... Bar song, I guess. Maybe a--"

Roger was shaking his head.

"Oh, what. We've been bleeding out all our creativity lately." Freddie stood, hands on his hips. "There's none left, is there? You're right. Five days to put together a song and get people here so they can bear witness to my amazing plan? It's not long enough. We'll just have to cancel! There shouldn't be consequences for that."

"There probably won't be," Roger agreed. "Just the annihilation of humanity, I guess. Nothing major."

Freddie pursed his lips. Yes, that was a problem. He'd have to power through. As always.

"Look," Roger said, pulling a comic book out of his back pocket. He always carried one, just in case. We've got aliens on earth.

"Rhye."

"Whatever. We've got aliens. Make it epic."

Freddie paged through the comic book. Although the cover seemed to hint at an epic space battle far into the future with high-tech space suits and murderous monsters, the inner pages had been replaced by porn. Porn Freddie didn't even particularly like. "Roger," he said, holding up the least scandalous image he could find.

"Well, you weren't supposed to open it." Roger at least had the wherewithal to appear sheepish as he snatched the magazine out of Freddie's grasp. "If it gets boring in the barn, do you think I'm going to want to read comics?"

"I'd hope that you'd be writing like we're supposed to be," Freddie said, curling his nose up as Roger tossed the magazine on the end table. "Not--"

He paused as inspiration struck, and a single phrase popped into his mind.

I Stand Before You Naked to the Eye.

The basis of the song began to form around it. "Listen," Freddie said, handing Roger the phone, which was still not connected to anything. "First, I need you to take over securing the advertising to get us a proper audience. Make some calls. Get the people here. Can you do that?"

Roger nodded. "And?"

"Yes. Second, I need you to never, ever tell anyone that I got the idea for this song after looking at your raunchy porn."

Roger smiled. Narrowed his eyes. "Put I'm In Love With My Car on the B-Side to Bohemian Rhapsody and you've got yourself a deal."

[krizaland]

Zim/Dib x Magical Girl Reader Chapter 3

First chapter  Previous

Chapter 3 is finally here! I’m having a ton of fun with @brookelim2001 ‘s Magical Girl reader request!

I finally managed to get to the fun stuff and it’s only going to get more wild from here! 

Zim let out a growl as he followed you and Dib into the lunchroom. He had no idea why he cared so much about you hanging out with Dib. Nobody ever believed him and he tended to creep most students out.

However, just seeing Dib, heck any other student, near you was enough to make Zim’s blood boil.

Zim hated how upset he got whenever he saw you hanging out with anyone else. Why should he care about who you spend your time with? It didn’t affect him nor his plans in any way. So what was the problem?!

Zim decided to grab some ‘lunch’ and sit down at a table in front of Dib’s.

He snarled as he watched the two of you chat and eat together.

“Stupid squirmy Dib…How dare he try to take what’s-No! Look at me! So the Y/N has decided to hang out with the Dib-stink, big deal! I won’t get worked up over some pitiful human taking interest in someone other than Zim! I won’t- I….” Zim trailed off as he continued to watch you eat with Dib.

Zim’s face fell as he slumped in his seat. It wasn’t fair! Why was Dib getting all of your attention?!

He felt like his insides were in a blender! Where did all of these feelings come from?! You clearly did something to him but why couldn’t he find out what it was?!

Zim let out an enraged growl as he stormed out of the lunchroom. Clearly, he needed a new plan to find out what you did him.

Meanwhile, you begun to tell Dib about what happened to the talisman.

“It’s so crazy! I was just holding it and bam! It changed color! Look!” You insisted as you held up the now pink talisman.

“Wow! The talisman’s instruction manual didn’t say anything about a color change! Maybe it’s absorbing whatever alien chemical Zim injected you with.” Dib mused as he inspected the talisman.

“I guess so. Anyway, I really can’t thank you enough for helping me. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first.” You smiled as you took another bite of your lunch.

“Eh, it’s alright. I’m used to people not believing me. I’m just glad I managed to get through to someone.” Dib sighed as he continued to eat as well.

“You know, I’ve actually always believed in aliens. I just didn’t think they’d ever want to come to Urth.” You confessed as you rubbed the back of your head.

Dib nearly spat out his food.

“You believed in aliens this whole time?! And you never once thought that Zim might be an alien?!”

“Well, I mean sure Zim looks a little weird but I didn’t want to make assumptions. Like I thought he just had a skin condition and probably got bullied a lot for it.” You explained as you continued to eat.

“Ugh. Look, I know everyone wants to be inclusive in all but Zim literally screams about ending mankind! You can’t tell me that’s something a normal human would do!” Dib whined as he gestured with his fork.

“You got me there. I’m surprised I didn’t really pick up on any of that stuff sooner.” You admitted as you nodded along.

“Well at least you understand now! If only the rest of the world could wake up too…Then we could all work together and stop Zim before he destroys us all.” Dib pouted as he played with his food.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he won’t get that far. I mean it’s not like-Huh?”

You were cut off by a sudden vibration jolting through your body. The next thing you knew, the talisman begun to glow.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“I think It’s the talisman. It’s shaking and glowing. Is that normal?” You asked as you gestured to the now glowing talisman.

“No. I don’t think it’s supposed to do that-OW!.” Dib tried to reach for the talisman but the glow burned his hand.

“Dib! Are you ok?” You squeaked as you covered your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve had way worse. Something is definitely up with that talisman.” Dib cradled his hand.

You were about to respond when the ground started to shake. The water in your cup rippled as the sound of loud stomping grew louder and louder.

BOOM!

A massive mech burst through the lunchroom! The impact caused both you and Dib to fall under the table.

“Where is Y/N?!” Zim’s voice bellowed from the mech.

“What the?! No! That can’t be Zim!” You hissed as you hugged your knees.

“It is Zim, Y/N! And it sounds like he hasn’t finished his experiment yet!” Dib insisted as he tried not to hit his head.

“Well what are we gonna do?!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something. Just hang tight and try to stay hidden.” Dib instructed as he pulled out his laptop.

“Ugh. It’s time like these I wish I could just transform into some kind of hero-Huh?”

The talisman rattled as it begun to glow even brighter as a small voice rung out.

“Wish granted…”

FSHHH!

“What’s going on-WOAH!”

You were whisked away by hundreds of bright pink butterflies. Golden stars and dark pink clouds surrounded you as your body glowed bright white.  The talisman flew off your neck and transformed into a massive, glowing pink ribbon.

You let out a gasp as the glowing pink ribbon spun you around and raised your arms above your head.

PWINK!

The ribbons formed a frilly hot pink dress with light pink accents.

PLINK!

POP!

A black sash wrapped around your waist and popped into a cute bow.

“Woah! Woah! Hey! Take it easy!”

FWISH!

FWISH!

One by one, the ribbons lifted up your legs and formed matching frilly black boots.

FWISH!

FWISH!

The ribbons swirled around your arms and formed matching, black arm length gloves.

“Hey this is actually kinda fun now” You giggled as you playfully swiped your hands above your head.

FWHIP!

FWHIP!

FWISH!

Two curly black antennas sprouted from your head and your hair turned bright green.

PLINK!

POP!

You dragged a hand across your forehead and a bright red pair of tiara-like goggles appeared.

FWHINK!

You hunched forward as a pair of wings burst from your back.

You stretched out your wings to reveal their shimmering, gold and pink hues.

SWISH!

POP!

The talisman formed a small, light pink bow and attached itself to the center of your chest.

More butterflies swirled around you, encasing you in a bright pink cocoon.

FWHEE!

You burst free from the cocoon and struck a pose.

Soon the stars, butterflies, and clouds faded away as you completed your metamorphosis.

“Aww, it’s over already?”

Dib’s eyes nearly burst out of his glasses as his jaw hit the floor.

“Hey! Wait! What just happened?! And who are you?!” Zim demanded as he hopped out of the mech.

“Huh?! It’s me….Um” You trailed off a bit as you begun to debate on whether or not to tell Zim who you truly were,

“Well?! Who are you?”

“I am-”

“Who are you?!”

“I am-”

“Who are you?!”

“I am-”

“Who are you?!”

“I AM…um…Space Butterfly! Yeah I’m Space butterfly! And I’m here to put a stop to..whatever it is you’re trying to do!” You stuttered as you put your hands on your hips.

“Stop me?! HA! I don’t think so!”

And with that, Zim hopped back into the mech.

“BEHOLD MY MISSILE LAUNCHERS!” Zim cackled as he charged up the mech’s lasers.

You let out a scream and crossed your arms in front of yourself to prepare for impact.

POP!

A bright pink barrier appeared around you.

PEW!

PINK!

The mech’s missiles didn’t even touch you.

“What the?! No matter! Have some of this!” Zim sang as he slammed down onto another button.

PEW!

The mech fired a purple laser beam straight for you!

You smirked, pushed out your arms, and held out your hands.

“Try me, you cosmic cockroach! Butterfly..attack..thing!”

POW!

You summoned a massive pink energy blast.

Your pink energy slammed into Zim’s purple laser just moments before it vaporized you.

After a few minutes of struggling, your pink energy overpowered Zim’s laser.

SMACK!

CRASH!

Your energy sent Zim’s laser flying back to him, causing the mech to slam into the wall.

Zim groaned for a moment before pressing a few more buttons.

The mech slowly got up and shook off the debris.

“Now it’s my turn to have some fun!” You sang as you lowered your goggles.

Your goggles helped you lock onto the mech’s weak point as you held your fingers out like a gun.

PEW!

PEW!

PEW!

PEW!

With four quick blasts, the mech was knocked back onto its rear.

“HEY! NO FAIR!” Zim whined as he begun to mash buttons.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“DANGER, MECH OVERLOADING!” Zim’s computer bellowed.

“BE QUIET!

Zim continued to mash button after button, causing more and more warning sirens to go off.

“Time to put this toy back in its box!” You giggled as you threw your hands above your head.

“Butterfly…energy BLAST!”

A massive ball of bright pink energy swirled in your hands.

FWISH!

SLAM!

CRASH!

The moment the energy ball made contact with Zim’s mech, the room went white.

When the dust settled, all that remained was a defeated Zim sitting in a pile of scrap metal.

Zim groaned and held his throbbing head.

“Ha! Looks like I stopped you after all!” You gloated as you jumped in front of him.

Zim’s PAK sparked a bit as his face turned a darker shade of green.

“Now are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?” You smirked as you triumphantly loomed over him.

Zim shook away his infatuation and jumped to his feet.

“Foolish…whatever you are! Do you really think you’ve won?!”

“Um, yeah. I mean, I destroyed your mech. I’m pretty sure you’re done here.”

“HA! What if I told you that my real plan was to…um..Make a mess of the skool cafeteria! Yes! That was my real plan! So HA! In your face!” Zim stuttered as he snapped a finger in your face.

“Sure it was.”

“And now you have to clean up the mess!” Zim cackled as he ran off.

“Coward!” You called after him as you stomped your foot,

[ai-katsuu]

Noki and Goldilocks (1/3)

chapters 1 2 3 

next chapter

goldie belongs to sleepy-lion-king. i finally finished this story after a lotttt of thinking about them and their story. 

also read this on ao3!

--------

"Kio, can you pass me the manual?"

Noki, not taking his eyes off his work, held his hand out towards his brother.

“Pino is using it, he’s in his room.” the younger brother responded. Kio was at the corner of their workshop, fumbling with his hand held gun.

Noki frowned and continued working. He took the pliers and cut one of the wires. “58th trial…” he mumbled, grabbing the remote. He pushed the button and the small machine began working, traveling across the floor on its own. Kio noticed this and looked up from his work,

“Hey, good job. It finally worked,” he said. Kio knew that Noki had been working on the same contraption nearly a week now, that’s way longer than the average time.

Noki frowned and shook his head. “No, it’s not supposed to be going that fast.”

He stood up and walked over to pick it up, turning it over to adjust it. “I really do need the manual,” he muttered. He placed the contraption on his table before walking over to the small door and opening it.

Now in the quiet palace halls, he took a sharp left and quickly made his way up the staircase, skipping a step or two to make things faster. After climbing one floor, he took another turn and stopped at the first of seven doors. He knocked a couple of times,

“Pino? I need the manual for the-”

The door opened to Gretel poking her head out, “Oh hey, sorry he’s not here now. Do you need to get something?” she opened the door wider as an invitation to enter. Noki shook his head,

“No, it’s alright. Thank you.”

Before he was about to leave Gretel stopped him, “Wait,” Noki turned around, “You seem a little pale, is everything alright?” she asked him. He paused for a bit then nodded,

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asked once more.

Now a bit annoyed, he creased his eyebrows and sighed, “Yes, Gretel. I’m fine.” he told her, “Can you tell me where Pino is?”

“I’m not sure,” she looked back in their room, “he left just recently though so he shouldn’t have gone too fa-” when Gretel looked back Noki was already down the staircase, determined to just get this over with so he could return back to his work.

After minutes of wandering the palace, he gave up and decided to just get back to work. His irritation only grew once he saw Pino there the whole time with the manual. “Seriously…” he mumbled. As his anger started rising he started taking note of other things. He took a look at the workshop and saw it was a mess. Kio.

“Hey, I was looking for you.” Gretel came in, “Pino’s right there, woah are you sure you’re alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, you don’t look too well.” Pino stood up.

“Would you guys stop being on me all the time?!” he yelled.

Yelled for the first time. The other three, especially his brothers, were visibly shocked. In all of their twenty years together they had never had a full blown argument. All of them were always on the same page whenever an issue was brought up, and if ever they disagreed it was always a minor problem and it could be fixed easily. This had never happened before.

“I mean honestly, I had to walk around this entire palace just to look for a book, only to find out it was here the whole time. And my god, Kio, would it kill you to not leave your stuff all over the workshop? And you!” Noki whipped his head to Gretel, who looked visibly concerned.

“Stop asking if I’m alright every time I express a damn emotion. I’m not your brother so just go bother him instead.” he spat out.

Pino frowned at this and stepped forward, “Noki, that’s enou-”

“Oh don’t even get me started on you! You’re always with her now and you never have time for us anymore!”

“Noki, you know that’s not true.” Pino firmly told him.

“Right. Because you’re always correct cause you’re the eldest.” things that weren’t even related to the problem just started spilling out of his lips, as if twenty years of pent up anger was finally being released, “Papa always gave the responsibility of the workshop to you, and he gave the most attention to Kio because he was the youngest; meanwhile, I’m here trying my best and nothing seems to be working no matter what I do!” he slammed his fist on his table.

No one spoke and Noki stopped, slightly panting from exhaustion. He took one look at their faces and that’s when it hit him. All of their faces shocked, concerned, and confused. The guilt and embarrassment slowly started to creep upon him as he suddenly became scared. Unable to look at them anymore, he ran past them and went out the back entrance of the workshop. Not looking back, not looking forward, he just ran.

He could faintly hear voices calling out his name from behind, but they soon became deaf to his ears as he fled farther and farther from the palace. He was embarrassed nonetheless; tears started forming at the edge of his eyes as he replayed the words he said to his brothers. He was angry at himself, his work, but he didn’t want to be angry with them.

‘Why was I so stupid. Why am I like this? Why do I always feel like this when I-’

“Hey! Woah!”

He first fell down on the grass as he bumped into something. Rubbing his head he opened his eyes to see chopped wood everywhere on the ground, little farther ahead was a person, flat on the ground with their arms spread out. Noki got up and immediately made his way to them.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” he asked, worried for their wellbeing. He hadn’t noticed where he was going.

The person scrunched their face as their eyes opened, slowly adjusting to the dim light. Noki looked at their features and saw that she was a woman. “Mmrgm...who..” she looked to her right and saw a little green dwarf looking down at her.

“Who?!” she immediately sat up in shock and Noki moved back in surprise. Which was a bad idea given that it only hurt her head even more. “Oww…” she groaned, her hand rubbing the back of her short, messy, yellow hair.

“Are...you okay?” Noki asked once more. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Is your head alright?”

“No..no yeah I’m fine. This happens a lot,” she said. Her face winced a bit as she touched her forehead, a small bruise forming there. “How about you?” she turned to him.

“I’m fine,” he told her, “Please, let me pick your stuff up for you.” Noki got up and started picking up the individual logs of wood. The girl looked at him for a bit then started picking up logs as well. “Are you headed anywhere? Let me help you carry this there. It’s the least I can do.” he offered. Dwarf or Human, his qualities that made him a member of F7 still remained.

“That’d be really nice. Thanks!” she beamed and stood up, “I’m headed to a cabin nearby. It’s a bit of a walk but we should be there in a bit.” Noki couldn’t help but question her sudden change in attitude as he looked at her, eagerly picking up the logs as she hummed.

‘Strange..’ he mumbled in his head.

As the two of them walked the woman began making conversation, “So what are you doing out here?” she asked. As much as he wanted to be polite, he really felt like it was none of her business.

“That’s not important.”

“Sure it is,” she said, “oh c’mon you can tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone!” she grinned.

Noki only frowned at her, ‘That’s not really the issue…’ he thought. “What about you? What’s a girl like you doing out in the woods? It’s getting late.” he asked, changing the subject.

“I was chopping wood here for tonight. It gets pretty cold and I kind of forgot to do it this morning,” she said. The woman began talking about something else, but Noki unconsciously began tuning her out as he thought about what happened almost an hour ago. The depression was starting to take over his mind as he looked at the grass. He wondered if he could just invent a time machine so that he could go back and this wouldn’t have happened.

If only…

“Hey!”

Noki looked up from the ground and saw a ray of sunshine. Or...at least that’s what it looked like for a split second as his chest felt warm. The woman's face was only a good few inches away from him as she crouched down to his level, he couldn’t help but stare at her bright blonde hair and sapphire eyes before he realized he was indeed starting.

“Oh, sorry!” he said immediately, “Did you say something?”

The woman shrugged, “You were so quiet when I told my joke, I thought something was wrong with your head. Turns out you were just spaced out.” she giggled as she poked the side of his head.

Noki grew red a bit as he stepped back and shook his head, “Sorry. Are we close?” he asked her.

She stood back up and gestured ahead. A cute little cabin just a few meters ahead. Small enough for just one person but big enough just to have guests over. It almost reminded him of his old workshop with his family.

“Over here,” she called him as she walked ahead. Noki followed her to a smaller storage as she opened the door, throwing the logs inside and keeping just a few with her. She closed the door with her foot as she walked back to the entrance.

“Well, thanks for your help. I really appreciate it!” she grabbed the rest of the logs from him, “I’m Goldie by the way.” she managed to reach her hand out to him. Noki looked at her smile, having a quick internal debate on which fake name to tell her, as he didn’t want word out that he was here. Instead, for some strange reason, he told her the truth.

“Noki.” he reached out his hand and shook hers.

“If you want,” she told him, “You can stay here for the night. It’s getting pretty late and I doubt you’d wanna be out there alone.” she offered. Noki only shook his head,

“That’s alright. I wouldn’t want to intrude. Have a goodnight, milady.” he bowed.

Goldie stayed there and raised an eyebrow as he walked away. As Noki reached the entrance to the woods again, he then realized. Where on earth was he going? He had nowhere to go. He couldn’t take back what he said to them. He couldn’t possibly return now. Even if he did decide to go back, where was he? He didn’t look where he was going when he ran off, who knows how far away from home he is. He didn’t have resources to camp out as well.

His only option was…

Noki turned his head back slightly, “Goldie..?” he called out in a weak voice.

“Still here.” she smiled knowingly.

“I changed my mind suddenly...I think I’ll take up your offer,” he said, averting his gaze.

Goldie kicked the door open by lifting her leg up, “Why don’t you start the fire and I’ll get the food ready.” she beamed at him.

[mountainashfae]

🎥

🎥 do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?

The best part of this app being 100% fantranslation is that I can go and grab transcripts of all my favorite scenes. I’ll try to keep it down to 5 and under a cut because a few go on for a bit.

Since a few of these include the player, I’d like to preface this saying that the default name for the protagonist is Akira, and that’s the name most fantranslators use.

[  media hyperfixation ask game! ]  

Prelude to the Festival and Justice

Figaro: I’ll wait here. I have a hunch that things won’t end well if I go near the ruins of Mesa with you guys. Lennox: ........ Figaro: I can sense the tension from here. The original spirits of Central have heroic natures, so they hate wizards from the North. It feels like they’re saying, "Get out, villain."  Both Oz and I are ultimately Northern wizards at our core, after all.... Lennox: ......That’s not necessarily true. Figaro: Leno...... Lennox: When your nature changes, you grow accustomed to the land — and eventually the land comes to love you in return. The way you are overprotective of the brothers — I think that’s just like the Southern wizards, who love their families. Sir Oz must be the same..... Because a heart that loves harmony and goodwill was born in him, he came to be loved by the Central lands. So I’m sure it will all work out. Figaro: ......Thank you. You’re a good guy..... Lennox: Well, I am a better person than you, Dr. Figaro.   Figaro: ...... Lennox: No taking back your words.

Chapter 16: The Lunar Eclipse Palace (Murr and his Friend)

Murr: Hello, Shylock. It's certainly been a while. The scent of your pipe reminds me of the times we spent all night in argument. Shylock: It has certainly been a while since I last saw such a garrulous Murr. You must be a piece of Murr's soul. Murr: Indeed. What are you going to do with me? Shylock: I'm going to retrieve you and return you to Murr. Murr: Really? My dear friend Shylock, do you really want to do such a thing? Shylock: ...What do you mean? Murr: I thought you were quite fond of him. The innocent and simple-minded me, who rolls around like a stray cat. Shylock: .......... Murr: He won't talk down to you; he won't insult you. He'll listen to your every command. The foolish and adorable Murr, who belongs only to you. You loved me, and you loathed me. Of course you're fond of him. Shylock’s face stiffens at Murr’s grin. Shylock: ....Oh loathsome Murr. But if you are going to call me a friend, I do wish you would understand me a bit better. Murr: I believe I do understand you. You wanted to stop me from inventing magical science technology. But I refused. And as a result, your hometown was contaminated. The creatures went extinct, and the waves ceased to echo across the shores. Of course you loathe me. But you are surprisingly obsessive, so you could not cast away your affection for me. That is why you continue to think of me in conflict — the conflict that you so adore. You loathe me and you love me. You blame me and you forgive me. You pity me, and you think of me nostalgically. Am I wrong? Shylock smiles.

Chloe: Dreams Shared With a Sewing Box (aka the moment I fell in love with Chloe)

Imagining Chloe’s childhood makes my heart ache. Chloe is still smiling painfully. Chloe: It’s fine, it’s fine! It’s all in the past, so I’m all fine now! Plus, I can make whatever clothes I want now. I was only allowed to do chores here and there back then, but I was always so jealous watching my father and sisters create such beautiful clothes. I’d think, I also want to make nice clothes. And if I wear beautiful clothes, then maybe even I can change.... Even if I’m skinny and ugly..... If I can make such lovely clothes, then maybe even I can be of use to someone wonderful...... As Chloe’s voice grows hoarse, I can’t help but exclaim forcefully. Akira: ...Chloe, you are wonderful. You’re cool, you’re adorable, and you’re kind. I love you — we all love you, Chloe! Chloe looks surprised. Then he laughs shyly, his cheeks flushing. Chloe: Thank you, Sir Sage..... Ehehe.... That makes me so happy. Rustica said the same thing to me, you know.....

Chapter 17: Wicked Wizards (Rustica’s Wish) (aka my favorite Dad Rustica moment)

Rustica: Oh, there you are, Chloe. Chloe: .......... Rustica: I know very well how whimsical Westerners can be, but the people of Central are certainly prone to mood swings as well. The person who said hello to me in the morning glared at me and ran away in the afternoon. I was a little bit surprised. Chloe? Chloe: Ah...... Rustica. Sorry, sorry. What was that? Rustica: Did you hide something behind your back? Chloe: No, not at all! Rustica: Ahaha. So now you're trying to surprise me too, Chloe. What are you hiding? A bird? A butterfly? Chloe: Ah......! Rustica: Come on, show me. Chloe: ............ Rustica: ....A torn scarf? Isn’t this the scarf you embroidered, Chloe? This blue bird, right here. I remember you working on it, because I thought it was so lovely. How did it get torn? Chloe: ......Ah.... ....I gave it. To someone I made friends with at the party. Rustica: ............ Chloe: She said it was pretty, so I told her she could have it as a symbol of our friendship. Then she was really, really happy! She said she'd show it off to her friends and family! ....But this morning.... She said she didn't want it, because a wizard's scarf was bound to have some horrendous curse on it.... She said, "You're trying to deceive me and curse me to death, right?" And she tore it and threw it to the ground.... Rustica: Chloe.... Chloe: It's fine, it's fine! I'm not feeling down about it or anything! I'm used to this sort of thing, anyway! .....But I'm an idiot, so I came up with all these ridiculous fantasies. Like, maybe if I give her this scarf, she'll put it on the next day, and come to say hi to me. Then I’d feel really ticklish inside, but I’d also be really happy, and say, it looks great on you.... Chloe: Maybe her friends and family would ask me to make them scarves too, and I'd get really busy...... .......I came up with so many of those stupid fantasies, like the ones that play through your mind right before you fall asleep..... She was afraid it might be cursed.... Of course she was scared..... I'm such an idiot..... Rustica: You're not an idiot. Chloe: ...I am an idiot..... Rustica: Your dream is absolutely lovely. If she doesn't want the scarf, can I have it instead? Chloe: ....It's nothing valuable. Rustica, you're handsome, so you deserve to wear something much nicer. Rustica: There's no scarf more valuable than this one. Chloe: ....That's not true. I haven't used any expensive fabrics or threads.... Rustica: Because this scarf is the only one of its kind in this world. It's something that only you could make. Chloe: .......... Rustica: It's more precious than a commonplace luxury you could find anywhere. It’s more precious than the moonstone; more precious than any jewel. Here, look. This scarf was created by my beloved Chloe. It's the only one in the world. It has my favorite blue bird embroidered on it, too. It’s a bit torn, but that’s no cause for concern. For I have a friend who's very good at needlework. Rustica: I'm sure he will fix it up perfectly. This blue bird will fly freely into the sky, no matter how many times its wings are torn. Isn't that right, Chloe? Chloe: ......Yeah...... I'll sew it back together, as many times as I have to..... .....Thank you, Rustica. Rustica: And you have my thanks as well. Don't cry...... Please smile, Chloe. Chloe: ........ .....Yes...... Rustica: Please don't feel hurt. Like the bright moon that shines in the sky, we may be shoved away every time we approach someone, but...... We can smile wherever we are. We can sing the songs we love, and dance with the people we love, wherever we are.

Chapter 21: A Story for the Sage’s Manual (A Wish)

Oz: Sage. Akira: Yes...... Oz: I'm sorry — but you are going to share my fate. Akira: Huh......? Woah......! Oz takes my shoulder, and we lean over from the balcony. Akira: Hey...... Wai—! Oz: Let's go. Akira: ...........! Oz leaps from the castle balcony, holding me in his arms. ✦✧☾✧✦ Dark wings, and a golden moon. We plummet swiftly. Akira: ............ Oz: Grant me strength, Sage. You are the one who guides us. Believe in me. I believe in you. Akira. I tightly grip Oz's hand in return. For I, too, once wished for the same. I want to build a small bridge of trust. With this world. With the people living in this world. And...... With myself. Oz slowly releases his fingers. In that hand, he holds a magnificent staff. I hadn’t noticed, but the speed at which we’re falling has slowed. I look at Oz. He opens his mouth. Oz: << Vox Nox >> In that moment...... We defy the laws of nature. And rush upwards into the night sky. As if we’re flying to the moon.

[blackgirlblues]

Being A Black Girl: And Chasing Your Dreams.. Yikes.

Hi, 

It’s me, your resident black girl back with some new shit to rant about. I’ve been posting a few screenshots of short poems and paragraphs I’ve been writing on my phone as a way to heal and get over Capricorn boy from my last post on here and I see you guys like and reblog. Thank you for showing love, although it makes me sad that so many of you seem to be going through the same range of emotions I am. I’m sorry. 

I know it’s a lonely place to be in. 

But, on the bright side, I’ve got a lot of new followers joining the diary/manual/rant page that is blackgirlology and it’s nice cause I think it’s becoming a little bit of a community. So, in a way, were never really going through any of these emotions alone. If you’ve found this page-you’re part of a community. Bask in it. 

Anyways, that aside, a lot has happened since I last spoke to you. I don’t know if any of you may remember, and for some new people this will be a surprise. But I’m actually a singer songwriter from Ireland. Moved to London a year and a half ago to pursue my music dream and that’s how I met Capricorn boy whos been the source of all my poems. 

Throughout this time in between, I’ve been trying to chase my dreams, and chase them relentlessly. and this summer i did just that, let me tell you, what im about to tell you guys, is to put it simply, wild. I’ll just cut to the chase. 

It all started in July. I’d been in London for quite a long time now, over a year and now have a manager who’s my best friend first and foremost. We’ll call her Maya. I met her in my first week of moving to London in the student halls I was staying at and we became best friends pretty quick. She studies music business, so it made sense and she just naturally ended up taking up the role as my music manager. Shes seen everything. The songs I wrote about Capricorn boy, the tears, everything. And she saw everything this summer. 

I saw an ad for a record label opportunity in London. It was advertised on my university facebook page; a new indie label, looking for demo submissions for a competition they were setting up to find their new signee. I sent a screenshot to Maya who agreed I should send my stuff in. I did, they liked it, I got a meeting, we were sent terms and conditions for the competition. We signed it, the rest was supposed to be history. 

Big yikes. 

There’s so many layers to this story that I will be shortening it, just because it can get very draining for me to talk about or even write about. I’ve healed from it i think, but I still want to put it here and write it about to finally close that chapter and be done with my feelings about what happened to me and my music. 

Basically, the whole competition, the record label, the dickhead CEO, it was all a scam. I had accidentally signed away the master rights to my new song to a record label started by a fake CEO who was committing fraud and known for tricking young artists into handing over their master rights so he could profit off of them, for power. 

It was a mess. Another contestant told me and Maya when we were outside of their office. Just minutes before we were under the impression that I was doing an interview for Billboard Magazine. Honestly, I never truly believed it. Shit was too good to be true. 

But she told us everything. How he was actually a run away from Spain, where he was caught and exposed for doing the exact same thing to artists there, how he didn’t have any money to fund the competition he had somehow roped all of us into, how he was illegally avoiding paying his team, how none of the creatives we had collaborated with for photoshoots etc were paid, how everything was a lie, how he didnt have any connections, and how he was trying to convince me specifically to sign a 360 deal with his label. 

Which, guys, I’m not stupid. After the first week of being with the label for the competition and letting my song live through their disastrous marketing campaign, Maya and I long decided that regardless of what they said, I would not under any circumstances be signing anything with any entity of their company. 

After being told the truth, I had to sit down. You see, when I came across this opportunity, I thought this was finally the life I’d been manifesting coming true. I had begun to grow in my spirituality and start journaling, writing down my manifestations, and getting to work with a record label who would later offer me a fair contract before I turn 20 was one of the manifestations I had written down every night before I went to bed. However, what I’d gotten was the exact opposite. 

I remember, me, Maya, and 2 of the girls from the competition all stood around in a circle outside of their new office that the CEO also hadnt paid for wondering what our next move would be with this new information. There was still 2 other contestants inside who had no idea what was really going on was an elaborate scam. One of them wanted to go in and expose them on the spot. I said no, we had to go in and pretend like everything was normal until we figured out what to do afterwards. 

So in I went, plastering the fakest smile on my face and pretended like I still thought I was about to be speaking with Billboard Magazine. Once I got out, I broke down in Maya’s arms. 

I went home to my flatmates, Ellie and Bea and cried for hours before I had to go work a 7 hour shift at a pizza place. 

I stayed in bed, and cried, and cried. and cried again. I didn’t get out of bed unless I needed too. The only people I talked too were my flatmates E and B and Maya. 

Everything was sorted out eventually, a lot more happened, but as I’ve been writing this article for you guys, I realised that all of that stuff is no longer relevant to my journey and isnt something I want to bring back into my energetic circle because I’ve made peace with the fact that a lot of people who betrayed me when I was at my lowest, peace with the fact that these contestants who wanted to “work together” to get out of this mess, actually wanted to save their own asses and leave me in the cold. 

But I still got out of it and I’m still here. 

I nearly got sued by a man with less than 20 pound to his company account online, but hey, I’m here.

I guess why I’m telling you guys this really short account of my summer is to both record it for myself but also to say its okay to flop, its okay to fail. I did both this summer. and thank god i did. it was the best thing that ever happened to me. 

following your dreams is scary, doing it as a black girl is terrifying because society has already kind of set you up to fail. there’s already misconceptions about what you do, who you are, where you come from and how good you’re going to be at what you do. its almost like we cant fail and we need to work 10 times harder to obtain half of what the average white person will get. and sometimes it can feel like we dont have any space to fail or make mistakes because of this but let me tell you thats not true. 

if anything, the universe will put you in places that will force you to grow through the mistakes you make. and thats exactly what happened to me this summer. 

i chased my dream so relentlessly i ended up in an environment i thought i manifested, i thought was good for me, only for the universe to show me that that specific environment i’d been wishing to be in is the furthest from what i need right now in my life. 

this so called failure showed me that not everybody who smiles can be trusted, and that people can be way more deceiving than i ever thought, especially when push comes to shove and they need to save themselves. you start to see the real them when it starts to get tense. the people who seem to be around you when you’re doing good will most likely dissapear when things start to go south, including some of your oldest friends. you will get radio silence on their end. be upset. cry. but after that be glad that this situation revealed their true colours. 

and then never put any more energy into them again. 

this failure showed me how fucking strong i am. how resilient and kind i am even in the face of disrespect and actual evil. it showed me how much i can care for someone who i believe is at a risk of losing it all, and showed me that this will not always be reciprocated. and for a while i thought that meant that i had to harden myself up and grow a shell. but i dont think so. i will not allow the things ive been through to make me into a hard person when i was born soft. i mean now, im a little rough around the edges, jagged enough to cut anyone who comes too close with some of that bad energy, but soft enough to hold myself tight and glue myself back together when i need to. soft enough to hold the people who held me this summer. soft enough to help people who i know deserve it. 

im a good person in a shitty world, i don’t need to match the world and become a shitty person to survive. 

after all of this happened, i stopped writing music. 

i haven’t written anything properly or produced anything in months and sometimes i get worried that ive completely lost my talent. but thats another thing that this failure taught me, i can never truly lose whats meant to be mine. i know that i was put on this earth to create change, to inspire, to be an activist and a voice for people who dont have one. i know i was put here to do it through a creative medium and right now i still think that is music. 

i think i just need to stop being so scared to start again, to learn my craft again.

i used to be so scared of failure but now i am so thankful for it and the lessons its taught me. i had so much hurt and pain and hatred in my heart for the universe for, in my head, doing this to me. but then i realised that the universe never does anything to you, it does it for you. all of this happened in my best interest and while i definitely didnt understand at the time, i get it now.

thank you universe for the worst summer of my life. 

and my black ass will be continuing to chase my dreams relentlessly, failing, tripping and falling on my ass until i get to the very top. 

besides, if everything had just gone right, that wouldnt have been very interesting, would it?