#cause i didn’t wanna drive out of town in a thunderstorm

[cetoddle-archive]

it’s storming again fuck yes baby !!!

[authenticmiya]

Empty Spaces - Fezco x Reader

Summary - This is part 2 to I was there for you. With nasty weather coming into town, you hesitantly sat in your car blasting heartbreak anthems. Was Fez going to come to his senses and run after you?

Word Count - 1.1k

Warnings - angst, fluff

It is a very strange thing, to be in love. It changes you. Your thoughts constantly drift towards this person, no matter what you’re doing. Sometimes we fall in love by chance, but staying is the choice.

It takes a strong heart to love but it takes an even stronger heart to continue to love after being hurt. Our hearts are meant to be broken so that the right person could come and fix them. What if the person who was breaking your heart was the only one to fix it.

You hadn’t known how long you’d been sitting in your car. It shocked you how your neighbours rarely got involved with anything they’d heard. It was a rainy day, the water spilling from the clouds just like the tears down your cheeks.

Adele was on your radio. It felt convenient that the British heart-break songwriter was blaring through your speakers but it wasn’t making you feel any better (even if you did own all of her CD’s.)

Ash and Fez had to put up with years of sad songs by Adele. Not because you were genuinely sad all of the time, but because her music was so relatable. Now it really felt relatable.

Each minute passed and you knew it had been way over ten by now. The pit feeling in your stomach felt horrendous. Your heart and your head were both encouraging you too think Fez would come running after you in the pouring rain.

Fez was contemplating his life decisions as the clock ticked away. He hadn’t been thinking straight lately and that was evident now as he watched you walk out of the door. Ash didn’t leave the room, fearful of whether his brother would just let you walk out of their lives.

“I fuckin’ meant it bro. She goes, I do. I wouldn’t be shit without her.” Ash continued to persuade his brother.

“Ion know what you wan’ me to fuckin’ do Ash. Run after her and tell her I didn’t mean it?” He tried not to snap at him but his emotions were running extremely high.

“Don’t you wanna do that?” Ash was right. Everyone in the world could see that Fezco’s business partner had his head screwed on.

“Fuck man.” Fez cursed to himself, running a hand over his shaved head.

“If I was lookin’ at this from an outside perspective, I’d say you don’t love her no more.” Ash admitted and Fez practically had steam coming out of his ears.

“Cause if ya did, you’d have never let her leave like that.” Ash shook his head. The storm was definitely coming down a lot heavier now and Fezco recalled a time where he’d held you in his arms to calm you down. You hated thunderstorms. It was a fear you’d had ever since you were a little girl. The roar of thunder was just enough to send you into a full-blown meltdown.

“She fuckin’ hates this weather.” Fez ran as his fast as his legs could carry him. The rain was pouring down fast. His heart nearly jumped into his throat as he watched you begin to reverse. Ash watched through the security cameras, praying you wouldn’t go anywhere.

“No, no, no.” Fez ran towards your car and banged his hands on the bumper - making you fully aware he was there. You slammed on the breaks, cautious of your next moves. He moved over to the passenger side and tried opening the door but in this case the doors were locked. Fez tried to hide the smile on his face. He’d always told you to lock your doors before driving anywhere so no asshole would try and kidnap you.

“Ma please.” He was soaking wet and if it wasn’t for the love you had for him, you would’ve left him there. You unlocked the door and he was quick to sit.

“What do you want?” You sniffled, not making eye contact with him.

“Jus’ come inside and we can talk.” Fez told you, turning down Adele who was still blasting but you turned it back up.

“This song is how you made me feel, so no you’re not turning it down.” The song was Love In The Dark. He recalled a time you’d argued in the past and this was the song you had on repeat until he’d found his way to be forgiven. It felt like de ja by but that argument never resulted in your practically being kicked out.

“Baby I know you’re hurtin’.” Fez sighed, wanting ti kick himself when he saw the tears pooling in your eyes again.

“Do you? Do you though? What the fuck was that all about huh? Y/N go, Y/N come back in so we can talk. I don’t think you know anything about how I’m feeling right now Fez.” You finally snapped.

“Aight’ so we doin’ this in the car.” He thought to himself, trying to muster up the correct words. Fez had never really been amazing at apologies, he’d never emotionally hurt that many people in his lifetime. Other than drug dealers who wanted a fix and he refused to sell. But this was different.

“I don’t wanna be cheesy and shit and say you complete me. Ion believe someone needs to be completed by another person, anyone can be find on they own.” He began and you turned to glare at him.

“But I ain’t gon’ lie to you Y/N, you fill up all my empty spaces and I am so grateful for that.” Fez admitted. What he was saying was indeed true, whether you believed him or not.

“You can sit here and be mad at me, tell me how you’d take a bullet for me and Ash, but that’s what fuckin’ scares me the most ma.” Fez sighed.

“Ion doubt that you can defend yourself. Fuck baby, you’ve had so much shit happen in yo life, I got lucky with one badass chick. The thought of you bein’ involved with some of the most fucked up shit, it freaks me out. I ain’t gonna live wit’ myself, if you end bleeding out on my livin’ room floor.” Fez finished. He was searching your face for any kind of response but all he got was more tears.

“You really upset me Fez, you haven’t done that to me before.” You told him, finally looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

“I kno’ and for that I’m sorry.” You nodded, taking in his apology that seemed somewhat sincere.

“You push me away one minute, the next you come back. I love you Fez, I have since I was thirteen and I ain’t ever gonna stop. I probably will forever. That’s because you’re worth it, everything that comes with you is worth it. You just gotta understand that.” He pursed his lips together, not wanting to get emotional in front of his girl.

“I love you too. I do understand. I shouldn’t have let you walk out of that door, that shi’ gon’ hurt me for a long ass time.” He reached over and grabbed your hand, knowing right now was probably the best time to give you support.

“Why did you let me walk out?” Your voice was hoarse from all the crying and singing you had done in the car.

“Cause I got scared.” You nodded, not wanting him to repeat anymore of his dark thoughts. It was hard for you both. You both understand where each-other was coming from, it was just harder to communicate that.

“Truth be told, I was actually gonna go to the diner and think about that whole ordeal. I don’t think you’d ever be able to get rid of me that easy. I’m not going anywhere and if you push me away I will never leave. Not in a creepy way of course but I don’t care if there are a hundred million reasons to leave, you’re the only one I’ll ever need to stay.” For the first time in years, Fez had a tear roll down his cheek.

“You and Ash are my everything Ma, don’t ever fucking doubt it. If this shi’ were to ever happen again, which I won’t let it happen, but if it does, fuckin’ smack me.” Fez told you, making you chuckle slightly.

“I think your brother will beat me to it.” Fez reached over and padded away your tear stained cheeks.

“Hate it when you be cryin’, even worse when I’m the reason fo’ it.” Fez whispered. The two of you leaned in for an awkward kiss, considering the car wasn’t the best place for a kiss and makeup.

“I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you way fuckin’ more.” Now you were the one to switch off your radio.

“What do ya say? You wanna move back in wit’ me?” Fez questioned and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“If you carry my bags.” The two of you rushed back inside, trying to avoid getting anymore wet from the god awful weather. Ashtray’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas time. The two of you embraced each-other into a tight hug.

“Don’t ever pull that fuckin’ shit again.” Ash warned his brother.

“Word.” The two of them fist bumped before you all headed for the sofa.

“We’re both wet and soggy. This is gross.” You groaned, resting your head in Fezco’s shoulder.

“We can go take a shower?” Fez smirked, making Ash groan.

“Yeah I get it, you two made up, but ion need nieces and nephews running around when I’m just tryna pay off our mortgage.”

[hoboal87]

Storm

Title: Storm

Pairings: Dean x F!Reader, mentions of Sam x Eileen

Characters: Dean, F!Reader, minor mentions of Sam and Eileen, unnamed OFCs

Word Count: ±2.1k

Warnings: anxiety, car accident, major injuries, angst, fluff, blink and you’ll miss it pre-smut, post 15x19, more spoilers will be in the tags.

A/N: Requested by a nonnie: “Hi sweetie, I adore your writing especially dean fics. Can I pleaaase request a flangsty one shot of dean x reader where they get into a car crash and she's the one who's badly injured?? And maybe they are stuck in a snow storm or something so help would take forever to come and dean is just trying to keep her alive? With lots of worried and gentle dean?? But I don't want her to die pleaaase 🥺🥺 thank you so much. And no pressure if you don't want to write it ❤️”

A special shout-out to @deanwinchesterswitch​ for taking time during her #BlogAppreciationBounce to beta this for me! Thanks Kym, you’re the best!

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You walk through the aisles of the grocery store, pushing the ever-growing cart in front of you. You and Dean had finally moved all of your belongings into your new home, and now you needed to stock it full of food. Dean is like a kid in a candy store, grabbing so many unnecessary items that you can only shake your head and suppress your giggles.

A thunderclap from outside makes you jump slightly; spring in Kansas, a woman just a few feet in front of you notes, you politely smile as she suggests stocking up on bottled water and canned goods. When you were living in the Bunker, severe weather wasn’t even on your radar. It was a fortress, with all sorts of magic protecting it. But now, you and Dean are living in an ordinary, run-of-the-mill house, and Kansas is smack-dab in the middle of tornado alley.

Dean meets you at the checkout counter, two pies in hand, and you give the cashier a small smile. Another thunderclap makes you jump, and Dean immediately wraps his arms around your waist, calming you, reminding you that it’s just a little rain. Thunderstorms had made you anxious ever since your family was attacked by a wendigo when you were a teenager. Every storm dredges up memories of you and your family fighting for your lives as the creature used a storm to hide in the shadows and the sounds of thunder to cover its inhuman screams.

Rain begins to fall as you load bag after bag into the trunk of Baby, empty now that Dean has retired. A large bolt of lightning strikes, brightening up the sky, making the heavy, dark clouds visible for a moment.

As Dean pulls Baby out of the parking lot, rain has begun falling; scattered droplets softly thumping on the roof of the car. You and Dean live away from town, out in the middle of nowhere, your closest neighbors being Sam and Eileen, owning the property next to yours, but their house was still being built, so for the time being, it was only you and Dean for nearly five miles. It didn’t seem like a lot of distance when you first chose the property; in fact, you originally wanted to buy both pieces of land so that you and Dean could have all 10 acres to yourselves.

Dean drives past the Gas n’ Sip, the closest business next to your home, and turns down the road that would eventually lead to your new house. The five-mile distance shouldn’t seem like a lot, but now, as the rainfall becomes heavier, you wished you’d chosen a home closer to town.

The thick, heavy rain makes it almost impossible for you to see anything more than a few feet in front of you. You take a long, calming breath, trying to keep your nerves intact as lightning strikes again in the distance. Dean notices your nerves starting to get the better of you and reaches over to give your knee a reassuring squeeze before bringing the car to a stop.

“You wanna wait out the rain?” He asks, taking your sweaty palm into his own.

“Food’ll spoil,” you counter, trying to cover your growing nerves.

“S'just food, sweetheart,” Dean unbuckles himself and slides closer before reaching over to do the same to you. “We can get more tomorrow.”

Dean wraps his arm around your shoulders as the storm seems to grow even stronger. He places a gentle kiss on your lips and reaches to the back seat, grabbing a blanket to cover you both. Under the worn blanket, Dean’s hand rubs up and down your thigh, inching closer to your covered core. This wouldn’t be the first time that Dean’s tried to get frisky in the Impala; hell, not even the third or fourth but with your anxiety running on high, the last thing you want is to fool around.

You don’t have to say anything, just gently intertwining your fingers with his and he seems to get the message. You curl up against him, basking in his familiar warmth and smell, praying that the storm would soon be over. Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest as the wind howls with enough force to cause the Impala to rock slightly on the road.

After you’ve calmed, Dean suggests heading on home. You nod slightly, wanting nothing more than to crawl into the comfort of your bed. He slides back over before shifting the car into gear and slowly starts accelerating.

Pain. Cold. Wet.

Steam rises from Baby’s engine, and thunder claps again. The last thing you remember is a horn honking and Dean slamming on the brakes before everything went dark. Your body lies limp on the hood of the car, glass shards from the windshield surrounding you.

The Impala’s front end is crushed, and the heat from the engine warms you as you try to piece together what happened. You can hardly focus on anything; there’s another car a few yards away; it must be the one you collided with. You try to move your body, but it’s then you realize that you can’t feel anything below your waist. You groan as you desperately try to move, hoping that you can will yourself onto your feet and find Dean. You can barely make out a low moan through the sound of the rain hitting the metal. You want to turn, but you can't; pain radiates throughout your body, at least the parts you can still feel. You try to call out to Dean, to anyone for help, but you can't find the words to do so. Your brain and mouth aren't connecting, and the only sounds that you manage to make are whimpers of pain.

A figure appears in the rain, cursing as he seems to take in your broken figure; he's almost yelling at what you can only assume is some 911 dispatcher.

"Shit.. one of the passengers…conscious? The driver? I'll try…"

The man appears at your side, and you can still see the phone attached to his ear.

"Ma'am? Can you hear me?" He asks cautiously, you want to nod, but you're too afraid to move your head, afraid that you could accidentally hurt yourself further. "Her eyes are open; she's breathing," the man relays into the phone. "Uh.. ragged. There's blood… Ma'am? I'll try that. Blink if you can hear me."

You slowly but deliberately blink your eyes. The man breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Y/N!" Dean's voice comes from through the broken windshield. The man hurries away from you and towards Dean. You can only make out the muffled noises as the man tries to convince Dean to stay inside Baby, but you know he won’t; he’s too stubborn to listen to anyone.

The rain begins to let up, and the man tells Dean that an ambulance is on the way. The sound of Dean’s boots on the wet concrete put you at ease, knowing that he’s, at the very least, in better shape than you are. You count the strides that Dean takes before he’s beside you, frowning slightly at the large gash on his forehead. Dean’s eyes rake over your body, and you know something is going on that neither man is telling you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean’s hand gently cups your cheek, and you know that he’s trying to keep his voice steady. “Help’s comin’ baby, okay? You’re gonna be okay, y’hear me?”

You try to mumble a response, but the words still don’t form. The rain is now nothing more than a sprinkle, clouds shifting to reveal the night sky. Numbness has taken over the rest of your body as Dean keeps his eyes focused on you, assuring you over and over again that you're going to be okay. Off in the distance, you can hear a siren, and Dean squeezes your hand tightly as he tells the man to grab two flares from the trunk.

“Help’s almost here, Y/N.”

“De,” you barely manage to mumble out, “’m tired.”

“I know, baby.” Dean looks relieved at the sound of your voice. “Gotta stay awake, Y/N, please. Y’can’t go to sleep, baby, not until help gets here. Promise me you’ll stay awake.”

“Love you,” you murmur as your eyes close, and every breath becomes more difficult to take.

“Y/N, baby, I need you to open your eyes,” Dean begs as the siren grows closer. “Please, honey, just a coupla minutes. Please Y/N, you have to fight for just a little while longer; lemme see those pretty eyes, baby.”

With all the energy you can muster, you slowly open your eyes, focusing on Dean as he breathes out a sigh of relief. His face is wet; whether it's from the rain or fallen tears, you can’t be sure. Dean offers you a pained smile before leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Red and blue lights illuminate the sky, and a handful of overlapping voices fill the air. A paramedic replaces Dean, who refuses to leave your side until a firefighter drags him away. Your vision blurs as the new person begins quickly examining you while another puts a brace around your neck. A team of paramedics turns you over, and slides a board under you before lifting you off the hood of the Impala and putting you onto a stretcher. You can barely register what’s happening around you, and you want to cry out as they load you into the ambulance.

The collar around your neck keeps your head facing up, and you try desperately to look for Dean. Your eyes frantically search from side to side before Dean comes into view. He reaches forward, and you feel the familiar calloused hands rubbing against yours. Voices are flying, asking Dean question after question; is she allergic to any medications? Did she lose consciousness? Any prior existing conditions? Blood type?

Your hearing becomes muffled and your vision becomes tunneled as Dean struggles to answer each question.

“She’s seizing!”

A steadily beeping heart monitor awakens you. There’s a tube down your throat and you’ve seen enough Dr. Sexy to know it’s a breathing tube. You cough as you try to breathe and the heart monitor’s beeping becomes more rapid. A nurse is in the room quickly, telling you to keep calm before calling someone else in to help remove the tube. She orders you to cough again and again until the tube is out.

“D’n?” Your throat sore and raspy from the tube being down your throat for who knows how long. “‘Ere’s D’n?”

“He’s gone home, Y/N,” the nurse, Rebecca, tells you calmly. “Visiting hours ended a while ago. We’ll call him as soon as we get you a work-up.”

“S’okay?” You hate that your brain and mouth aren’t working together, and you can only speak in half-formed words. Rebecca nods, smiling as she takes your vitals and calls for an orderly. “How l’ng out?” You struggle to ask, but she seems to understand your question.

“Six months.”

Hours later, you’ve been poked and prodded by too many doctors to keep count of. Words may take a few days, but you’ll get them back, a neurologist assures you, just keep practicing.

By the time they’ve returned you to your room, Dean is there, eyes glistening as Rebecca wheels you in. You want to stand up to meet him, but your limbs, like the rest of your body, don’t want to cooperate with you. Dean crouches down to meet you, the skin on his forehead slightly red from where you remember seeing the gash. He leans forward and presses a kiss on your lips.

“Missed you, sweetheart.”

Dean and an orderly help you back into bed, and he takes a seat in the chair next to you, taking you by the hand and rubbing the back of your palm gently. A team of doctors explains everything to you and Dean—that you’ll have a long road of recovery, you’ll need physical therapy for your limbs, you’ll most likely need a speech pathologist, but with hard work, you’ll be back to your old self in a matter of time.

“You’re very lucky, Y/N,” one of the many doctors says as the others clear out of your room. You let out a scoff, you’ve been in a coma for six months, and you’re lucky?

“Honestly, I’d call it a miracle,” he remarks before leaving, and for a moment, you swear his eyes flash red.

Feedback is appreciated!!

[granolabird]

Life Is So Busted

Tonights episode had me all kinds of upset that Beth’s parents would just leave her after telling her they’re divorcing so you KNOW I had to fix it with soft Hournite. That’s the only way.  (Sidenote this was entirely written while listening to my Hournite playlist, hence the title. Link to the playlist is in my pinned post!!)

.

The thunderstorm starts as soon as Beth’s parents leave the house. She’s alone, sobbing on the livingroom floor as thunder wracks the home. Fitting weather for the solemn mood she’s in. She should’ve known it would go this way, should’ve known that her parents wouldn’t provide much solace, but she had held out hope. 

Beth was getting tired of holding out hope. 

She’s not entirely sure what to do with herself, so she resolves to call the one person she knows will know what to do. It’s a slow trek as she sniffles her way to where her phone is plugged in, and she winces as lightning illuminates the window. He’s at the top of her contact list, the only person she’s called in the last few days, so all she has to do is press the small green phone icon beside his name, and wait. 

She prays to whatever higher being is out there that he answers.

Rick is in the woods. It’s terrible weather and he’s soaked to the bone but he has to check if Grundy’s shown up. After the Eclipso-induced visions he had of Grundy back at the school he can’t stop himself from checking for the creature, even if it means being out in such terrible weather. There’s no sign of Grundy though, and all Rick has received for his efforts is water weighing him down and a terrible case of the chills. He lets out an exasperated groan as he flops into the driver's seat of his car, slamming the door and letting his head fall onto his steering wheel. He really doesn’t feel like going home to whatever drunken insults Matt is going to throw at him, especially after everything he saw at the school. And so Rick mulls over the idea of staying the night at the Pit Stop, like he usually does on the days when Matt’s being particularly cruel. As he slides his keys into his ignition, his phone rings from where it’s been discarded in a cup holder. He slowly lifts his head and squints at the screen. His heart skips a beat when he reads the name. 

Beth :)

He scrambles to pick the phone up, wet fingers sliding uselessly against the screen as he attempts to answer. By some miracle he manages to hit the right buttons, answering the call. 

He presses the phone to his ear,

“Beth?”

Silence for a moment and then 

“Rick.”

She’s crying. That’s clear the second she speaks, her voice quivering as she says his name.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Beth, hey. What’s up? Are you okay?

“My parents are getting divorced. Or at least, they’re pretty sure they are. They just told me and left. I’m just… I just need someone to talk to. If that’s okay.”

He hears Beth sniffle before she hangs up. Rick grips the wheel of his car and takes off, not caring about the weather, not caring about much of anything really. At this moment, all he cares about is Beth Chapel.

“Rick, the weather is terrible! You don’t have to come all the way over here if it’s not safe-”

“I was planning on coming into town anyway. It’s alright. See you in a bit, okay?”

“Okay.”

Beth hates the way she’s waiting at her door like some sort of sad puppy, but there’s not much else to do. She’s managed to slow her crying as she stares out the small window beside her door, waiting to see a bright yellow car pull into her driveway. She’s starting to get worried, her anxiety telling her Rick had gotten into some terrible car accident, when she sees his car. She can’t help but smile, standing as he parks, and opening her front door when she sees him get out of his car. The storm is forgotten for a moment as she runs down the front steps of her house, leaving her door wide open behind her as she throws herself at Rick, engulfing him in a hug. She’s crying again, sobs wracking her body as she presses herself into his soaked sweater and he holds her. No questions or objections, he just presses one hand on her back and the other into her hair, and holds her. Rick feels his heart break as she looks up at him with tears in her eyes, but he forces himself to stay calm.

“Beth. We should probably go inside. It’s raining.” 

“Right.”

“If you don’t wanna be at home I could drive you to the Pit Stop? That’s where I was headed.”

Beth has gotten Rick a towel and turned on the electric fireplace which he’s not even sure provides heat, but it’s nice anyway. She’s in the kitchen now, steadying herself while she makes hot chocolate, and he towels off his hair and clothes to the best of his abilities as he waits for her to return. After a few minutes Beth enters the living room with two mugs, one with just marshmallows and the other piled high with whipped cream. She offers a soft smile as she hands Rick the whipped cream-topped hot chocolate, before settling in beside him on the sofa. 

She shakes her head.

“You’re soaked. I don’t want you to get sick because of my stupid emotions, come in. I’ll make us some hot chocolate, if you want?” She manages, gesturing for Rick to follow her inside. He nods, and the pair walk into Beth’s house.

“You remembered I like whipped cream.” He laughs and it warms his heart to see her chuckle along with him.

“How could I forget? You scarfed down that whipped cream off the milkshake at the diner like it was your last meal!” 

Rick is fumbling his words and he hates himself for it, but he really is trying his best.

They laugh for a moment, and it’s a relief to see that Beth is feeling at least a little better. After a brief pause Rick knock’s Beth’s knee lightly with his own, and she looks over at him. He searches her face, struggling for the right words to say.

“How are you holding up? I mean, I guess not very well but... I mean, is there anything I can do? I’m not very good with parent things, but if there’s anything I can do…”

“I’m just glad to have you here. I didn’t know what to do, and my parents left me alone, and I really didn’t want to be alone. So I called the one person who I knew would be there for me.”

“Me?”

“You.”

Beth is tearing up again, and she looks down. There’s one question at the front of her mind that she really doesn’t want to dwell on, but she knows she has to ask.

“Do you think it’s my fault? The divorce, I mean.” She sets her mug on the coffee table and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

“What? No. Beth no, if anything you were what held them together. You talked to them every day, made sure they had at least some time together as a family. There is nothing you could’ve done, this is entirely on them.”

“But I could’ve done something. I know I could’ve. When Eclipso showed up at the school he showed me my parents, and told me it was my fault. Rick, he said it was my fault. I couldn’t fix their relationship.”

Beth slowly lifts her head, still trying to no avail to wipe the tears from her eyes. 

Now Rick is the one to put his mug down on the table as he leans towards Beth.

“Hey. look at me.”

“It’s not your fault. It will never be your fault. You tried so hard, you did everything you could. This is on them. You are the kindest, sweetest person I know, you could never cause something like that. Okay?”

He’s subconsciously laid a hand on top of hers as he spoke, but he leaves it there as she offers a small nod. He smiles at her as they settle into a comfortable silence. Rick is the one to break it.

“How about we watch a movie? Nothing cheers you up like a good movie marathon.” He tips his head towards the TV. This seemingly breaks Beth from her stupor as she leaps up to turn the tv on, separating their hands swiftly. Rick awkwardly picks his hot chocolate, taking a sip as Beth grabs the converter.

“Rick, you’ve never seen Megamind!? Well we have to watch it now!” 

“Yes! Megamind just got put on Netflix, and it’s one of my favourites.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

About halfway into the movie, Beth comes to a rather abrupt realization. She had told Rick all about what Eclipso had shown her, but she hadn’t actually asked him what he had seen. She remembered how shaken he had been when they returned to the Pit Stop after the mission, but he hadn’t talked about it. A feeling of guilt settled into the pit of her stomach, she had forced all her problems onto him, but hadn’t taken the time to listen to his own struggles. 

Beth’s mind is still lingering on her parents, lingering on the way Rick had held her hand, but she can’t dwell on it for too long. Rick is right, she needs to distract herself. So she does, settling back into her spot beside Rick, the duo quietly drinking hot chocolate as the movie begins to play.

“Hey Rick?”

He turns quickly, and she can see he’s scanning her face, trying to gauge what she’s feeling. He does that a lot, and it takes everything Beth has to not smile, knowing that he cares so much. Always checking up on her.

Rick takes a moment to think. As much as he wants to tell Beth the truth, he knows he can’t. He can’t tell her he was too much of a coward to kill Grundy, but he can tell her at least some of the story.

“Yeah?”

“When we fought Eclipso at the school, what did you see? I saw my parents, but you never said what you saw.”

“I saw Grundy. And I saw myself. I saw myself at my worst moment. I was so angry, and I just let my rage take over. I let it consume me. I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself more than that moment. Looking back on it, I was so stupid, just letting myself go like that. And you tried to tell me that, back then. You tried to stop me, and I didn’t listen.” That’s the truth. He does hate himself for that, but he also hates himself for letting Grundy go. It’s a whole whirlpool of conflicted emotions that he hasn’t taken the time to process. He’s not sure he ever will.

Beth is silent for a moment. There’s a lot to unpack there, and she’s not entirely sure what to say. Megamind drones on in the background, entirely forgotten. 

“I’m serious! You’re my closest friend. You’re the only person who listens to me, who’s there for me. Courtney and Yolanda are great, but they don’t stick up for me the way you do. They don’t care about me like you do. There’s no reason you should hate yourself. You let your anger take over, so what? Everyone makes mistakes, there’s no reason that you should hate yourself for having real emotions. I literally sobbed into your sweater in the rain like an hour ago, and do I hate myself for that? No!”

“Rick… You shouldn’t hate yourself.”

“Wow, very insightful.” he lets out a spiteful chuckle, and Beth halfheartedly slaps his arm.

“That was different.”

“It wasn’t! I was feeling really, really sad. You were feeling really, really angry. And you had every right to feel angry. Grundy killed your parents. If I was in that situation, I’d probably have done the same thing.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“You don’t know that.”

Rick locks eyes with Beth when she says that. He feels something inside him break, and he almost slips up,almost tells her how much he cares about her. How much he loves her. He wants nothing more than to kiss her at that moment. But now is not the time, the thoughts of failed love leading to divorce still fresh in her mind.

“I do. Beth, you're always looking for the good in people, always looking on the bright side. And I’m me. I’m always angry, always ready to fight. I hate everyone and everything.”

“You don’t hate me.”

“Beth. Thank you.”

“Rick, I should be saying thank you to you! You’re the one who came rushing through a thunderstorm to rescue me.”

“And yet somehow you’ve managed to find a way to flip the tables. You’ve rescued me.” 

They smile at each other, and lean just a little closer to one another as they turn back to the movie. Things are far from perfect for both of them, but together they’re working to make things at least a little better. And in that moment that’s all that matters.

[gasstationshane]

I was driving to Los Angeles with my brother Mark, when my life changed forever. He had just graduated from high school, and accpted into the same college that I was going to. We with were on a road trip to Los Angeles so I could show him all the good spots for food and other needs as well as celebrating his graduation. Mark kept changing the radio or the music on the bluetooth speaker about a few hours or so after getting out of the Michigan border. At least it felt like a few hours, but it honesty could have been longer. Time flies when your driving.

At one point, we had to be bluetooth only for our road trip music, since the radio signal was so bad that all we were getting was nothing but fuzzy feedback. It's funny, you think with as advanced the way technology is these days, they'd have something to stop dead zones. But I guess people that make these things focus on one problem at a time. I wouldn't know exactly, despite me being a gamer and hopefully a graphic artist someday.

When we got even deeper into the woods that we were driving into, it started raining hard. Mark couldn't help but chuckle.

"You gonna be able to drive okay if it storms, or do I gotta take over?" He asked, teasing me about my fear of thunderstorms. I looked up through my window, and I was confused as hell. It was raining, pouring and a storm was about to hit. And yet, there was not a cloud in the sky. It was night time, but with all the stars shining, it was easy to tell. I sighed and shook my head.

"No I'll be fine, but I'll pull over the moment I feel like the storm is gonna effect my driving." I answered him in a slightly louder voice than usual, the rain hitting the car being loud. It's weird, even though thunderstorm's scare the living hell out of me, I enjoy the sound of rain hitting windows and cars. If the thunder is loud and hitting fast, like an elephant that just saw a mouse, I become filled with panic and freak out.

I heard thunder roll, and I sighed. It wasn't loud, but thunderstorms are like sloths. Slow and determined. I looked out the window once again, the starry night sky filled with dark clouds. Mark seemed to notice the difference between now and when it started raining.

"Are we ahead of the storm or something? How the hell did we get no clouds to a full on overcast?" He asked, just as confused as me. I shrugged.

"No idea. The rain more down south could be different than back home but who knows man." Suddenly, more thunder rolled. It was louder than before and I could feel it make the steering wheel vibrate. I pulled over, feeling my body already begining to shake. I hated how bad my fear of thunderstorms was. It was embarrassing that a 21 year old could stop doing anything instantly, just by hearing thunder. Mark reached over, rubbing the back of my shoulder gently.

"It's okay bro, I'll drive so you can get some rest." I nodded in response, getting ready to undo my seatbelt so we could switch seats. Mark already had his off. I took longer due to the shaking. My hands kept slipping and I almost had it when I saw a very bright light. I looked out through the windshield, seeing a semi truck. Once my eyes fully focused, I saw that the truck was swerving. My eyes widened. He was on the wrong side of the road.

My fear turned into a panic and my fight or flight mode, my body instantly honking the horn and trying to put the car in reverse so I could get us out of the way. The truck didn't go back to it's side of the road, and the car was moving slowly.

"Shit! Mark get out!" I shouted to my brother as I looked at him before going back to trying to get my seat belt off. It was stuck, making me growl in frustration as I desperately tugged at it. Suddenly, the truck hit us, making my body slam against the seat belt before violently pushing me back against the car seat. I squeezed my eyes shut out of fear. I heard a loud smack before hearing Mark cry out in pain, I looked towards him to see if he was okay, but the air bag went off, hitting my face without warning and knocking me out within seconds.

When I was awake again, I looked around. I was somehow still in my seat, the seat belt still clicked into the holder. I looked around the car, Mark no where to be found. Panic once again surged through my body, making finally get that damn seat belt off. I got out of the car, looking around for Mark and calling out his name.

When I found him, he was laying a foot or so away from the car. He had a bruised gash on his forehead that looked like he purposely slammed it onto a rock, a few shards of glass from what I could only assume was the windows or even the windshield scattered into his chest. I ran over to him, shaking him slightly.

"Mark! Wake up buddy. Come on we gotta get you to the hospital. Dad's gonna kill us, but it'll be okay." I said, trying to get him up. He didn't budge. I stared at him blankly, hoping like hell he'd show me some form of movement. But.. Nothing happened... Before I knew it, I was already crying. My brother was dead.. And it was all my fault.

I screamed in frustration, pulling my phone out of my pocket and dialing 911. I heard a beeping and looked at the screen. No signal.. "Shit!" I shouted, running down the road to try to find help as quick as possible. My emotions were really fucking me up on the inside... I could literally feel my stomach burning. After about a mile, I saw a gas station on the side of the road. Oh thank God! Maybe now I can actually get some help.

Before I could walk in, a huge raccoon jumped out of a bush in front of me, causing me to fall on my ass. I looked at the furry trash panda, confused. When I said he was huge, I didn't mean he was fat. This guy was so big that if he stood on his hind legs, he'd be three feet tall at least.

Something else strange that I noticed, as he came closer to me. He was carrying a small amount of what looked to be a couple dollar bills in his mouth. What.. The fuck? Why was a Raccoon carrying cash with him.. Don't they usually steal food or some shit? Before I could scare him away, he dropped the bills into my hand and got close to my face. He nuzzled me with a purr before heading back to the woods, leaving me there confused with bills in my hand that was dripping with raccoon drool.

Normally, I'd be grossed out at this point but I had more important things to worry about. I got up and walked into the gas station. "Hey, do you have a phone that actually works? I've been in a bad car accident and I need a ambulance. I'm pretty sure my brothers dead.." I explained, panting heavily from panic as I looked at the cashier. He looked to be about my age, but clearly needed a good nights sleep.

He had dark circles under his eyes that even made me feel tired after the shit I've been through. I saw the name tag on his shirt. His name was Jack. Jack... Why does that sound familiar? I shrugged it off as I got closer to the counter.

He looked up from the book he was reading before using a crutch to stand up against the cash register, sighing softly like I interrupted something important. He must've been at a good point in his book to have that reaction.

"If you wanna use the phone, it's twenty five cents a minute. Pay in advance, no exceptions." He said as he looked at me, seeming to think that I wasn't in a serious situation. So that explains why the raccoon gave me those bills earlier... But how did he know. There was a strange familiarity about the place. A guy named Jack that works at a gas station in what felt like the middle of nowhere, who also looked like the word sleep had absolutely no meaning in his vocab. A quote from a blog I read a while back came to my head.

'At the edge of town...' Then a bunch of details I couldn't remember at the moment "... Theres a shitty little gas station, open twenty four hours a day, seven days a week." I also remembered the blog mentioning something about a three foot tall raccoon named Rocco. Then it hit me. I wasn't at just a gas station. I was at THE gas station. The one that was talked about on a blog called 'tales from the gas station' by a guy known as gas station Jack. And that very Jack, was right in front of me. Well.. That explains the raccoon. That was Rocco.

"Holy shit!" I blurted out, unable to hide my fanboying. "Your gas station Jack! Author of tales from the gas station! Dude!" He looked back at me with a look of shock. This is the most awake he looked during our interaction. But now that I know who I was dealing with, the whole sleep deprivation look made sense. If I remember correctly from the blog, he had fatal familia insomnia. Meaning, he couldn't sleep. At all.

"You've read my blog?" He asked a bit confused. I nodded and smiled softly, ignoring my body shaking violently from the accident.

"Hell yeah! I've also listened to it being read by Mr. Creepy Pasta." I stated proudly, hoping he'd appreciate that detail. He sighed, crossing his arms. I was surprised at how well he was able to balance himself on his crutch.

"Are you sure your not making this up to get a free phone call? Because it's not gonna work. No exceptions. And no alternative forms of payment either." He said before repositioning himself so his arms were resting on the counter. I laughed and shook my head.

"Nah, I'm not the kind of guy that would use your Internet fame against you." I handed him both the dollar bills, not sure how long the call would be.

"Thankfully, Rocco gave me some cash before I came in here." I explained as he took the bills. He was gonna ask about Rocco, but decided against it once he remembered the situation I was in. He spun the egg timer and handed me the phone. Within in a matter of minutes, I had explained the accident I was in and was told that help was on the way.

I gave the phone back to Jack and thanked him, before heading back to the scene of the accident. They wouldn't let me ride in the ambulance with Mark, explaining that they needed room so the paramedics could start working on taking care of him. Instead, I rode in the passenger side of the cop car, with deputy Amelia O'Brien driving. I kept quiet, secretly happy that it was her that gave me the ride. She was another Character in Jack's blog. It was so cool to know that not everything he put in the blog was made up.

"He's gonna be fine." She started, snapping me out of my thoughts. "It looks like he hit his head on the dashboard. He's knocked out and possibly in a coma." I frowned, looking away. Maybe she was just trying to convince me that I wasn't responsible for my brothers death. A wave of guilt washed through me, the pain and burning I had felt in my stomach hours earlier had came back. I couldn't tell if I was gonna throw up all the stomach acid in my body, or explode. I was cringing and O'Brien had pulled over to the side of the road. I opened up the car door and fell out onto my knees. I felt like I had just gotten the worlds worst flu. I'm sure my body temperature exceeded one hundred, my hair and skin were already drenched in sweat. O'Brien stood next to me, calling in for another ambulance. And suddenly... I blacked out...

To be.. Continued..

[staticscreenwriting]

Until we say goodbye || two

Warning! This multipart story takes place after the events of season 3. There’s huge spoilers already in the synopsis down below. I warned you.

Synopsis: (Y/N) Hargrove has to come to terms with the fact that her twin brother is dead and she had to watch him die, unable to do anything about it. There is something she can do for him now though and that’s keeping a promise. The promise to go back home to California. Together. In order to drive cross country and spread Billy’s ashes in a place where the Hargrove kids used to be happy, (Y/N) enlists the help of Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who decides that it’s time to break out from his parents expectations and be the person he always wanted to be.

This time on “Until we say goodbye”: The teens stay at a quirky motel. Steve talks to mama Harrington and (Y/N) give us a look into her childhood.

(caution: mention of death, emotional abuse, slight mention of physical abuse, mention of alcohol // if you need me to tag any other possible triggers let me know)

One // 

Part 2 of ?

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Help a girl out with a reblog, thank you ♥

And if we hit on troubled water

I’ll be the one to keep you warm and safe

And we’ll be carrying each other

Until we say goodbye on our dying day

A cool breeze is blowing past (Y/N) as she sits on edge of the old abandoned lifeguard tower, feet dangling in the air. She’s well aware of the fact that the wind is making a mess of her hair, leaving it a tangled mess. She doesn’t really give a shit though.

The beach is practically deserted except for her and the couple strolling by the shore, throwing sticks for their puppy every once in a while. They seem so happy, as if nothing matters but them and their dog and the ocean.

Her thoughts wander towards Pumpkin, the little Jack Russell puppy they adopted a few years ago when dad was dating this woman named Laura. Laura loved dogs and dad loved Laura and so when she moved in, so did Pumpkin.

(Y/N) loved that stupid dog, hell even Billy did. But like all good things in the Hargrove’s life, this one didn’t last very long either. Dad messed up his relationship with Laura and Laura was smart enough to get the fuck out and take Pumpkin with her. 

The thumping of boots against the wooden planks of the lifeguard tower, pulls (Y/N) back from her trip down memory lane. 

Billy plops down next to her, fumbling a cigarette from the pocket of his denim jacket and lighting it. He’s started smoking a few months ago, just after the twins 13th birthday. Dad was really mad when he found that first cigarette hole in the carpet of their room. 

“ Why are you here ? ‘s about to storm “ Billy mumbles around the cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips.

“ Dad’s being as asshole “ 

“ As per usual “ Billy scoffs, “ what happened ? “ 

“ He found out that I pierced my ears, said I look like a slut. “ 

The words still sting even now that she repeats them to her brother. (Y/N) doesn’t think it’s something a father should say, especially to his daughter. It’s just earrings, what’s the big deal ? 

It doesn’t make her a slut. Right ? 

“ What the fuck does he know. He still lives in 1971 with his ugly ass mustache“ Billy jokes, effectively getting a laugh from his twin sister. 

“ You know what the worst part is ? “ (Y/N) asks.

“ Hmm ? “ 

“ I think my ears might be infected. They burn like hell. “ 

“ Ya know what ? That’s your own damn fault. I told you using Galliano liqueur was not the best way to sanitize the needle. “ 

(Y/N) chuckles, nodding her head in agreement. “ Yeah, you were right, I admit it “.

“ Good. “ 

She turns to look at her brother. His hair is growing longer now, the curls sitting messily on his head reminding her of crashing waves during a thunderstorm.

Dad hates that Billy is growing his hair and and (Y/N) is fairly sure that’s part of the reason why Billy likes his hair so much. Everything that pisses off their dad is a good think in Billy’s book.

“ Still think you should’ve let me pierce one of your ears. Would’ve looked damn cool. “ she says, teasing smirk playing on her lips.

Billy shakes his head, curls bouncing from the motion. He’s mirroring her smirk though.

“ No fucking way. Never. “ 

(Y/N) finger plays with the tiny silver spike dangling from her ear as her eyes focus on the scenery passing by the window. There’s not a lot to see really, it’s almost pitch black outside. They’re on the road for about an hour and a half now but Steve keeps bringing up stopping.

He’s tired, (Y/N) can tell. Tired and still a bit freaked out by the whole situation.

“ So Terre Haute is coming up at I think we should see if we can find a place to stay the night, then stock up on food and gas tomorrow morning and drive through the entire day “.

Steve speaks up, more of a monologue than anything else. (Y/N) doesn’t mind how long the journey takes as long as they get to California in the end. She doesn’t mind stopping for the night. Doesn’t mind the occasional food or toilet breaks. Leaving Hawkins behind already feels liberating. 

Every mile they put between themselves and that fucking town feels like a weight lifted off her shoulder.

“ Alright, sounds good to me. We gotta find a cheap place though, I don’t have a lot of cash with me “.

“ S’alright I got it “ Steve exclaims.

“ I don’t need your charity, Harrington, “ (Y/N) snaps at him. Maybe it’s a Hargrove thing, being bad at accepting help from other people. From basically strangers.

For the biggest part of her life, (Y/N) only had Billy to depend on. Now that he’s gone it feels absolutely terrifying putting her trust in someone else.

“ Sorry I — that’s not what I meant. “ 

“ No, “ (Y/N) sighs “ I’m sorry for snapping. I know what you meant. It’s okay. “ 

There’s a thick awkward tension filling the car and (Y/N) absolutely hates it. 

“ Can I turn on the radio ? “ she asks motioning towards it. 

Steve nods in agreement. “ There should still be a mixtape in the player. “

With the push of a button the opening chords to Mötley Crües ‘Shout at the devil’ echo through the vehicle, making (Y/N) raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“ Steve Harrington, I did not expect you to listen to this kind of music “.

Steve just shrugs “ why not ? I like all kinds of music. “ 

“ Steve Harrington, Hawkins’ golden boy listening to the Devil’s music. That’s a surprise. “ 

“ Golden boy, “ Steve scoffs “ yeah right. I just about graduated High School. I didn’t get into college. I work at a video store and my own dad thinks I’m goddamn loser. “ 

“ You wanna talk about shitty dads ? Cause let me tell you, I’ll win that one. “ 

It’s quiet for a moment, before Steve clears his throat and speaks up again.

“ Can I ask you something ? “ 

“ Mmh “ 

“ What did they tell your dad happened ? Did they — did they really tell him that whole fire bullshit ? “ 

“ Yup. “ 

“ And he believed it ? “ 

(Y/N) nods. “ He did. He has no reason not to “.

The fire story. Authorities told Neil and elaborate story about how Billy died in a tragic accident in the big fire at Starcourt mall. Something about wrong place wrong time.

(Y/N) was there when they told him. Susan was crying hysterically. Max was — numb. Neil though. Neil didn’t even flinch. There was no sign of emotion. No sign of grieve. Nothing. Nothing at all.

“ I don’t think he gives a shit either, to be honest. “ 

“ That’s horrible. “ Steve exclaims.

“ That’s my dad for ya. “ 

Steve’s BMW rolls up to the parking lot of the Cardinal Inn Motel. It’s a small Motel complex and it looks like it’s seen better days. The walls are a dirty white, almost gray color and all doors are painted a bright red although most of the paint is chipping off. 

The kids enter the motel lobby, a small room decked out in all kinds of kitschy decor. There’s cross stitch art and paintings and decorative throw pillows. And all if it proudly features various images of a red cardinal bird. 

“ Welcome to the Cardinal Inn Motel. “ a chipper voice speaks up from behind the reception desk. “ I’m Ruth, how can I help ya ? “ 

Ruth is a plump little woman with a kind smile, round cheeks and extremely curly ginger hair. She looks more like a caricature than an actual person. Though (Y/N) thinks she fits this place perfectly. 

“ We would like twooo — ? “ Steve trails off and glances towards (Y/N) in question.

“ One “ 

“ — one room. With two beds though “. 

“ Oh sure sure. Let me see. It’s 32 $ for a night. “ Ruth says and opens a book, probably looking up which rooms are occupied and which rooms are free. She walks towards a board holding a lot of keys and takes one of handing it to Steve.

“ This is your room key, It’s number 44. When you step outside, the room is located in the building to your right. It’s on the first floor, first door once you walk up the stairs. I would have to ask for a down payment though. Just in case. “ 

Steve hastily pulls out a bundle of cash from his jeans, counting the right amount and handing it to Ruth. “ That’s the entire amount, we’re only staying for one night “.

“ Very well then. I hope you have a pleasant stay at the Cardinal Inn. “ Ruth chirps almost like a bird herself.

“ Thanks “ Steve says and walks towards the door.

(Y/N) stays rooted though, eyes wandering around the room from one red bird to the next to the next. 

“ Hey Ruth, “ she chimes up.

“ Yes, dear ? “ 

“ What’s with the birds ? “

“ Oh the cardinal ? That’s Indiana’s state bird. “ 

“ They’re funky looking little guys, huh ? “ 

“ Truly. They’re also very interesting. If you want to learn about them, they’re an informational brochure in every room. “ 

(Y/N) gives Ruth a soft smile then rushes after Steve, out into the chilly night air.

“ Knight Rider, really Harrington ? “ 

Steve sits up from his slumped position on the bed as (Y/N) comes back from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in her pyjamas. A choice of pyjamas she thoroughly regrets now as the cool air inside the motel room hits the skin of her legs. 

She’s dressed in a pair of short red pj pants and one of Billy’s old band shirts. One she’s stolen from his closet after — the incident. It smells like him. Makes her feel like he’s still there.

“ What, It’s good. “ 

“ It’s so stupid. It’s a talking car. “ 

“ Okay, whatever. You keep on hating but I tell you this show is gonna last forever and it’s gonna win all the awards. Trust me. “ 

“ Mmmh. Sure. Shower’s yours. “ 

Steve gathers some of his stuff from his duffle bag and moves towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

As she is left alone in the room, the gravity of it all comes crashing down on (Y/N). This is it. That trip she wanted to go on with Billy. That trip they had fantasized about since the moment they left California. 

Now it’s happening but it doesn’t feel right. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. With Billy in a thermos. With Billy — dead.

The room suddenly feels too small. Like the walls are gonna close in on her any second now. She needs air. Fresh air. Needs to get out of here. Now. Now.

So she does.

Slips on her shoes and the room key and dashes out through the door and into the night. It’s cold. Way too cold for the amount of clothing she’s wearing or not wearing depending on how you see it. 

For a while all she does is walk up and down the road, wishing she had remembered to take her pack of smokes with her. 

When it gets too cold though, she spots a neon sign in one of the windows of the Lobby building. “Souvenirs”.

She wonders if all of those souvenirs have red birds on them.

They don’t. Most of them do, but not all of them. A lot of them display what she can only assume are important buildings of  the city of Terre Haute, Indiana.

(Y/N) remembers the few trips she used to take with her mom and Billy, when they were just little kids. Mom loved to take them to the little quirky little towns across the coast and the kids loved exploring them. Billy always got a postcard, from every single place. (Y/N) got keychains. She still has a box of them stuffed beneath her bed at home. 

Her eyes wander around the room before they fall onto a display of all kinds of different postcards. Most of them, as expected, have birds on them. Though there’s one that doesn’t. It says “Terre Haute” in big bold letters. It reminds her of the ones Billy used to get from those coastal towns. 

Greetings from … the few happy childhood memories she can remember.

(Y/N) takes the card over towards the reception, where Ruth greets her with another of her signature Ruth smiles. Kind and warm.

“ Hi, dear. “ 

“ Hi uh — I want to buy this postcard. I can’t find a price though, ah shit I left my money up in the room let me just — “ 

Before she can hurry towards her room though, Ruth stops her.

“ It’s okay, Darling. You can have it for free. “

“ Oh no, I —  “

“ Please. You asked about the birds that pretty much the most anyone has cared about this place in a while. Take it. I want you to have it. “ 

It’s kinda sad, (Y/N) thinks. That her just asking about those silly birds made Ruth this happy. That people pay so little attention to her adorably little bird room.

“ Thank you, Ruth. That is very sweet of you. And this place is adorable. “ 

“ Thank you, dear. Do you need a stamp for that ? “

(Y/N) sighs “ No. No I don’t. “ 

The Bean is a little diner at the edge of town looking out onto the Wabash River. It’s emitting a perpetual smell of coffee and waffles and breakfast food.

Steve is munching down an entire plate of eggs and bacon. Oh to have the metabolism of a teenage boy.

(Y/N) takes another sip of her black coffee, hoping that the caffeine is gonna help keep her awake and not get too tired during their drive. After all they plan on being on the road for the entire day.

The pancakes on her plate are long forgotten. She hasn’t really been feeling like eating since it all happened. It’s like she’s acting on power saving mode. Always tired. Always sad. Always working on half speed.

“ You should eat something. You need it. “ Steve remarks.

“ Are you flirting with me ? ” 

“ I uh — what ? “ 

“ Male cardinals feed females as part of their courtship ritual. A female’s partner bears total responsibility for satisfying her dietary needs. “ 

“ How do you know this ?  “

(Y/N) smiles and takes another sip of coffee “ my friend Ruth recommended me some interesting reading material “.

She doesn’t mention that the nightmares didn’t allow her much sleep and that she spent most of the night staying up reading the informational magazine. There’s things Steve just doesn’t need to know.

“ Alriiiight. “ Steve exclaims, eyebrows raised “ Hey, what’s that. You gonna send a card home ? “ he asks and motions towards the postcard she’d been scribbling on while he had been ordering their food.

“ Nah. Not really. This one’s for someone else “.

“ Alright … hey uh. I think I should call my parents “ 

She looks up from her cup at Steve’s words. This can’t be happening. She can’t go back home now. He can’t bail on her.

“ Harrington “ 

“ Don’t look at me like that, I’m not turning around and crawling back home. I just don’t want my mom to worry. I need her to know I’m safe. “ 

That’s right, Steve has a mom too, not just an asshole dad. A mom who cared and who worries and who loves. God it’s been so long since (Y/N) had one of those.

“ Okay, yeah. But um — can you not mention my name. I don’t want any news to get to my dad. “ 

“ Of course. Yeah, no worries.“ 

“ Thanks “.

Despite what Billy always said about him, Steve seems to be an alright guy after all. His hair’s ridiculous though.

It rings once, twice, three times before someone picks up.

“ Hello ? “

“ Mom, it’s me. “ 

“ Oh god Steve. Honey where are you I’m worried sick “. 

That sends a little pang to his heart. His mother is a nice lady, she loves him deeply and she doesn’t deserve for him to worry her like that. But this is something Steve has to do, if not for (Y/N) then for himself. 

“ I’m alright mom. I’m taking a friend on a — uh a roadtrip. “ 

“ A roadtrip ?” 

“ Yea. To uh — “ his mind wanders to Billy. “ We’re going to help her brother “.

“ Okay, well are you alright ? “

No. He hasn’t been alright in a long time. Since 1983 to be completely honest.

Maybe this trip is just what he needs. A way out. An escape. 

Steve leans his head against the payphone, taking a deep breath.

“ I don’t know, mom. But I’m safe and I need to just — just get away. “ 

“ Is this because of what happened with the Holland girl ? Or the mall ?“ 

Yes. All of it. If only she knew.

“ It’s just a lot lately. Can you just trust me in this, mom. That I’m doing what’s best for me ? “ 

His mother hesitates for a moment before clearing her throat.

“ Of course I do, sweet boy. But I am a mom and I do worry. I always will. “

It warms his heart. To know someone does care and someone does love him, no matter how much he messes up.

“ I know. I love you and I’ll be back soon. I promise. I just need to do this, for me.“ 

“ Be safe, Steve “ 

“ I will. “ 

Before he hangs up he can just about make out his father’s voice in the background, asking if “that’s him” and “what’s he messed up this time ? “

And it once again becomes crystal clear why getting on the road with (Y/N) is the best decision he’s made in a long time.

He walks back over to her, as she leans against his car chewing some bright pink bubble gum.

“ You ready to head out ? “

“ Yup. Your parents mad ? “

“ No. Surprisingly not. Mom just wants me to be safe. “ 

“ Aw little Stevie. How adorable. Anyway let’s go. “

As they both settle back in their seats, Steve slides the signature dark shades back onto his nose and turns towards (Y/N). 

“ Sooo, snacks ? “ 

“ Snacks “ she nods and throws him one of her signature smirks “ definitely need some twizzlers to survive this trip “.

 “ Happy Birthday to me “ a freshly 9 year old (Y/N) mumbles as she buries her feet in the warm sand. It’s almost time for the sun to set behind the horizon and color the sky in beautiful shades of reds and pinks and oranges.

For the last 8 years this has been a moment she has shared with her mom. Every birthday the two of them would come down to the beach and watch the sunset. Just them two.

Billy had the morning to spend alone with mom, going to the beach to catch some waves, and (Y/N) got to have the evening. 

They’d sit and talk for hours and hours and hours. About everything. The silliest things.

This year she hasn’t so much as called. As if neither (Y/N) nor Billy ever existed in her life.

Billy’s been grumpy all day, refusing to spend time with his sister and deciding to go hang out with some of those stupid boys from the neighbourhood that always call (Y/N) dumb names.

(Y/N) watches the sun lower itself as if to drown the light in the dark water of the ocean, when a little plastic bag lands next to her. Just a moment later Billy drops down onto the ground too.

“ Got you some candy. Twizzlers, your favorite “ 

“ Did you steal them ? “ 

“ No, dingus. I bought them with my own money. “ 

“ Good. Means I don’t have to feel guilty when eating them. “ 

It’s silent for a moment as they sit beside each other, watching the sunset.

“ Hey I’m sorry “ Billy whispers, as if speaking any louder would mean destroying the magic of the moment.

“ It’s okay. You’re sad. I’m sad too. “ 

“ I’m not sad “ he claims “ I’m angry. So angry. “ 

“ You can be sad and angry at the same time. They’re not mutually exclusive. “ 

“ Stop using big words. “ 

“ Sorry. “ 

Billy takes a big breath “ I’ve decide “ he exclaims “ that from this moment on I’ll missing her. If she doesn’t want to come home, doesn’t want to see us. Screw her. I don’t need her and neither do you. “ 

(Y/N) knows that’s absolute bullshit but she also knows that Billy has a certain way of coping with loss and sadness and maybe she doesn’t share his ways or understand them fully but she can respect them if it means he’s less angry and less sad.

“ Okay. “ 

“ We don’t need her because we have each other “ he says, placing his hand on hers “ right ? “

In that moment, little (Y/N) knows that whatever the world is gonna throw her way, it’s only half as bad with her twin brother by her side.

“ Of course. Always “ 

If only they had known how terribly short ‘always’ would turn out to be.

_________

tags:

@sargent-barnes // 

[shleepys]

Summer Tones

This story can be found on my Archive of Our Own! I recommend going there and reading the notes I’ve left. Any feedback (constructive criticism or support) on either platform is highly appreciated. :)

Chapter One

Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6

- - - - - -

May 21st, 1984

Primary Colors

“Fuck,” Steve Harrington whispered, bracing for impact as someone pushes him into another. He’s getting - trying to get through the crowd before the song dies out and another more upbeat than before takes its place, before he gets shoved to the ground, trampled over, and stomped on until he dies. The place reeked of booze and sweat, the drunken teenagers around him screaming with slurred speech in a challenge to overpower the music screaming through the speakers. Red light bulbs replaced regular ones in every port they could go in the house. Ceiling fans and lamps all glowing with an array of fire and coating everything below them. The lights twisting the familiar faces around him into ones that were bloody, the beat of an overplayed song pounding his temples into his skull, the ground swaying where he needed to go and taunted with its sharp movements.

Months had passed, and Steve didn’t go to a single party, not one. Maybe Nancy had something to do with it, or better yet Hargrove had a part in it, but he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. Hearing about a party put a bitter taste in his mouth, and thinking in-depth about one made him physically recoil in disgust. But, someway and somehow, someone dragged him into one and convinced him to stay until it ended. Well, he actually couldn’t leave until it ended. He didn’t have a car, he was driven there by someone at the party meaning that until they were ready to go, he couldn’t leave.

The very last night of their school year, graduation had already happened and this party being the aftermath of it. Every single person in his grade and some in lower were here, but of course, Nancy and Jonathan weren’t. He didn’t expect them to come and if they had then he just hadn’t seen them yet. Just a cliché ‘my parents aren’t home’ party in a house packed full of drunks. Fun.

Another bump and push and he escaped the onslaught of sweaty mindless bodies, allowing him to run to the wall and find some remarkably tiny amount of safety with it. At least part of the problem was out of the way, but for how long? A silent groan slid past Steve’s lips as he let the wall catch his head and his eyes slam shut, the burgundy lights still passing his eyelids. His heart and head were thumping faster than the beat, slowly making him feel the need to scream and cry to get something out before his body exploded.

Footsteps were treading near, closer and closer to him until they were a little too close. His eyes fluttered open and formed into a squint, tilting his head to the side to see who intruded on his personal bubble. Hargrove stood towering over him with the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, disgustingly beautiful baby blues nearly violet under the red lights but full of something Steve hadn’t seen from him before. Concern.

“You aight, Harrington? You don’t look too good.”

Steve stood straight and cleared his throat. “I’m good- just tired.”

He made a noise of disagreement, “Call me a damned liar, but I think you’re more than just tired.” Billy fidgeted with the hem of his denim pocket as they stood next to the wall, a new song even more upbeat and thunderous than any previous beginning to take ahold of the mind’s in the room and force them to drunkenly screech and convulse in dance.

Steve furrowed his brows at him, “… How did you know I was here?”

“I saw you walk through the crowd, you looked like you were about to throw up, and so I followed you… and maybe Tommy also told me earlier. But ‘wasn’t like I had a search warrant in your name, Harrington. Just making sure you’re fine.” Steve searched over Billy’s face, a shiver ripping up his spine as he took in unfamiliar features and noted them. Bags of purple hung under his eyes, lips twisted into a frown, no cocky brow raise or shark-like smile, he looked��� dead, like he wasn’t himself.

“Are you okay?” Steve questioned, observing the look of confusion plastering itself across the other’s face.

“Of course I’m fine. I’m tired of the drunken assholes who won’t stop screaming every lyric of these damn songs. But, I guess that’s just because I haven’t had much to drink.” Billy turned away from the other, watching over the sea of people as they waved around like a field of wheat in a thunderstorm. “Do you wanna go in the front? I need to smoke for a bit, get out of here before I shove my foot up someone’s ass.”

Steve glared, “Like mine, again?” Billy let out a strained half-hearted laugh, hitching his hands in his coat pockets.

“Maybe, maybe not.” An awkward pause and look between the two shook as pictures rattled behind them. Billy contemplated what to say next like they were playing a game of chess, pondering what move he would play, how he could word this to not sound snarky. He swallowed and slowly spoke, “Look, I really want to talk to you Harrington, in someplace preferably silent or generally just quieter than this shit-show.”

Billy tried to flash a grin, even if it turned into a weak one, but all it came out to be an anxious quirk with the corners. Hargrove being serious with him? Dead serious? “Lead the way, Hargrove.”

The full throttle of another song attempted to sneak out with the two as they went onto the front porch, however, the door refused to let it get to them by cutting the tone down. Crickets sang their silent muse along with the vibrations of the music in the dark patches of grass that were untouched by the change in blue porch light that coated everything in an ocean of navy. Warmth hugged him from the summer breezes that ghosted across what exposed skin they had, the wind twirling a few plastic cups across the yard in front of them. Steve sat down on the gritty steps leading to the door with a new sense of anxiety. A million things could take place, a million different opportunities for Billy to turn this into some ploy so he could beat the shit out of him.

Something stole his attention as it scratched and flickered, Billy’s lighter flared out to greet the cigarette edging his lips until the end emitted a pale red. Billy sat down with a ploof right next to Steve as smoke rolled smoothly out and disappeared into the air above.

“What did you want to talk about?” Steve questioned, fiddling with the end of his shirt.

Billy’s head cocked to the side in thought. Stray blonde hairs stuck to his glimmering forehead and thumb slid intently up and down his cigarette. The game of chess had come back in session. “There is a lot that I wanted to talk to you about.” Steve watched a shaky cigarette drag and exhale of turquoise smoke. “So, let’s start with how your day has been going, shall we?”

“How my day has been going?” Steve cocked a brow in confusion from the random question.

“That’s what I said.”

Steve rolled his eyes. "It’s quite frankly been nothing but shit. I was an idiot and said I wanted to come here, and now my ride home is off somewhere drunk and probably in the pool.”

Billy let out a small huff, “You couldn’t drive yourself here?”

“My parents are out of town for the next I don’t know how long. I don’t have a car.”

"Ah, I see.” Billy licked his upper lip as silence overcame them both. “I could always drive you home,” he mumbled.

“…What?”

“I said, I could always drive you home, Harrington. God, I hope that shitty music didn’t make you deaf, I’d rather not have to repeat myself twenty- or no maybe thirty!-”

“Alright, I get it, Hargrove!”

Another moment of silence.

Billy licked his bottom lip, eyes tracing between the cigarette and Steve. “So, me driving you home, is it a yes or no?”

“… If you’re okay with driving me back, then yes.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t’ve asked if not.” Billy gestured the cigarette to Steve, the embers gleaming in excitement as Harrington took a puff and ash fluttered away as if encouraging Hargrove to start spilling.

“One thing I knew I wanted to,” a pause, “I needed to talk about was the way I have always acted towards you. And I know, I know, I seem like I’m on some kind of drug talking to you like the way I am right now, but Max brought up some shit that’s been making me think for the past two weeks and driving me absolutely goddamn insane.”

The music reaching to escape the barrier of the door faded out of existence as Steve focused on what the other said. This was a man to man- a person to person talk bound to be packed full of some sort of sentiment, and Steve had no clue what to expect out of it.

“I’m sorry, sorry for the things I’ve done to you and everyone else in this world. I regret it so goddamn much Steve. I’m an asshole, I have been for the majority of my fucking life and I try to escape it, but it always finds it’s goddamn way right back to me like some kind of shadow I don’t want to follow. I shouldn’t have beaten you up at the Byers or fuck with you the way I have been. It wasn’t right…” Billy scoffed at himself, a grave self-deprecating ‘ha’ forcing itself out from the back of his throat, his voice thickening with pain. “But I guess you wouldn’t care that I’m apologizing, you wouldn’t care a single bit. I’ve caused you an insane amount of pain. I deserve to be spat on, shoved to the ground, beat to a pulp- fucking killed.” He half-heartedly laughed through an incoming sob as the corners of his eyes pricked and pinched. “I don’t deserve this chance to apologize to you.”

Billy tried to blink back tears in an attempt to prevent himself from crying in front of Steve, showing any form of weakness he had taught himself to hide for all these years, but it didn’t work. Not this time. “I fucking hate my dad, I hate that I turned into what he wanted me to be.” The glossed over irises spouted rivers, pouring and streaming down his cheeks as he somberly cackled and heaved for air. “I turned into him.” His lungs were set ablaze in the madness and laughing soon switched for pleas in the form of sobbing. A plea for some sort of change, a plea for forgiveness, a plea for something more than the same cycle of torment. He wanted to get out of this town and away from his dad, find his mom and make things right between them both. He tried to hide his face with his palm but instead subconsciously wiped away the streams leaving bitter trails down the sides, the cyan overcast making it seem as if his eyes were glowing.

Steve’s eyes burned and blurred as his emotions ran rampant, copying what Billy had done earlier, laughing through a sob while empathy joined trapeze artists in a mission to bend and break his heartstrings. There was a barrier between them, like with the music and the door. A barrier of knowing, being knowledgeable about one another. Steve didn’t know about his home life, what has led him up to this point. But, he knew what the other spoke of, what he wept for forgiveness about.

“I-,” Steve’s voice quivered as he shifted to face the other. Billy let out a loud sniff as he tried to frantically take control of himself, he gave another short pain-filled chuckle as he shakily turned to the other with brows furrowed. He exploded into tears again, his mind like a waterfall that had been blocked and building up with pushed down emotions until tonight. The breakdowns never happened in front of anyone, they were always in the middle of the night after days- weeks- months of suppressing and regretting everything, sobbing and heaving into his pillow until the sun greeted the horizon and kissed the dark sky with red, wishing his mom would come, someone would come to fix it all and help him escape reality for just a minute, a second. These breakdowns never happened in front of anyone, so Billy didn’t know how to stop the resentment bubbling and burning in his chest with every breath he took. Thoughts ripped him apart as he got in his own head.

Steve wouldn’t understand. Steve is going to tell everyone. Dad is going to find out.

Billy shakily stood up from the cement hurling his cigarette to the cement to abandon and let glow until it eventually died. “But, you wouldn’t understand pretty boy-” His voice trembled, “You’ve never experienced a damn bit of rejection or heartbreak or abuse in your fucking life! You’d rather tell everyone in damn Hawkins what’ve happened tonight just to fuck with me Harrington- to get everyone to join to ‘make fun of Billy’ train!“

Steve shot up from the staircase, a lump shifting and bouncing in his throat as he responded, “Billy, stay. Okay? Stay here, let’s fucking talk. Just me and you.”

“I don’t fucking want to! And, you know what? I don’t fucking have to!”

“Well, good for fucking you, Hargrove! But I want you to shut the fuck up for a second and listen to me because this- is just- the whole idea you have for me- it’s this misconception of me!” Steve yelled.

Billy started for the door, his hands ghosting the handle before being yanked back by the jacket collar and spun around to face Steve. Spit flew from his mouth as Billy hissed, “I’m going to break your jaw if you don’t stop, Harrington! I know your intentions, I know who you are-!”

“I haven’t walked a single day in your shoes, have you walked a day in mine? A day of mine a year ago? Fuck no you didn’t, because you had goddamn clue who I was a year ago and I had no idea who you were either! I was an asshole, every single person my friends sought out to be lower than us as a lesser human being- a goddamn nobody was treated with the same challenge every time to provide the most extreme forms of emotional and physical bullying the entire town of Hawkins has ever seen! But you know what? I’d rather be a nobody than stick to the expectations that have been given to me- the expectation to push- spit on, shove to the ground, beat to a pulp- Billy.” A choked sob erupted from his throat. “I fucking understand.”

They stood there, eyes deadlocked, their tears sparkling in indigo. Brows fell out of their rigid place, grinding teeth came to a stop, nostrils relaxed. Steve slowly whispered, "But, you are right. I don’t understand some things. I don’t know what happened to you before you moved here or what goes on in your home life. So, help me. Help me understand you. I’m here for you. I can help you.”

Billy inhaled sharply, a sorrow-filled laugh filling the blank space of silence that had been floating thereafter Steve finished. Steve continued standing there staring into the other’s eyes, hoping that his attempt to calm Billy down and hold an olive tree branch with him would stay and succeed.

“I would appreciate that, Steve.” He paused, taking a long sniff as he played with the hem of his jacket despite his vision being blurred from the tears seeping out. “I really would.” Another long sniff. “Are you ready to go? I don’t think we should stay. I don’t want to stay.”

“I can drive if you want me to, Billy.” Billy made a face at him that screamed, oh hell no.

He smacked his lips and sniffed again, “Firstly, I asked you if you wanted a ride home,” he paused, now holding a finger up to the other’s face, “secondly how do I know you’re not a bad driver?”

“I mean there is only one way to find out if I am,” Steve smirked. Billy rose a brow, a cocky smile sliding its way onto his face as his arm came back to his side.

“No, and that’s my final answer.”

“Awn, really? I was excited to get to crash your Camaro.”

Billy rolled his eyes and let out a tiny chuckle. “Yeah, sorry-” He started to walk away from Steve, hopping down the steps with another sniff and starting towards his parked car. “The driver’s seat’s off-limits, pretty boy!”

Yellow car lights paved a path down the overcast roads they drove on, Steve giving directions when they neared turns or stops, every once in awhile catching himself staring at Billy’s hands and noting how his grip altered with the ending of songs on the radio, how he had a bandage wrapped around his thumb, how he chewed on his thumbnail when they stopped at signs and twisted in his seat to look both ways. He observed him but didn’t say a thing. A feeling of nervousness washed over him, his mind lecturing him about how that they said anything that an awkward entity would clutch their necks and asphyxiate them - as if it weren’t clawing at their seats, saliva dripping off its chin as it prepares to climb over the center console and go in for the kill.

Billy could sense it too, fear bubbling in his chest as he continued to drive and the figure towering over him twisted a coil of his hair around it’s long forefinger. He took a deep breath before partially switching his attention to Steve. A quick glance in hopes to break the thickening air and start some small talk, however, he caught him staring back. They locked eyes for a few seconds before breaking the stare and going back to the road. Watching the silhouettes of trees whipping by and waiting for something to fucking kill what had it’s hand sliding up their torsos for the skin on their neck.

Billy pulled into the driveway, put the car in park, and turned to Steve, waiting in silence for something- anything to come out of his mouth, but all Steve could do is stare back and expect the exact same from him.

“Um,” Steve mumbled.

“Um, yeah. We’re at your place, home, casa-” his hand moved with every word for ‘home’ he could list off, Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m aware, trust me I’m aware.”

Silence.

Steve fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “I almost don’t… I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“What?” Billy cocked a brow.

“I don’t want to leave you alone. Okay?” Steve couldn’t look the other in the eyes - not from fear, but embarrassment. He sheepishly started again, continuing to focus on anything but Billy, focus on a million other things other than Billy. “You can stay the night at my house if you want to. I have a couch in my bedroom I can sleep on, you can have the bed.”

Billy noted the little quirks about Steve in the darkness, like how when he was refusing to face him, he continuously chewed at his bottom lip and his fingers did dances on whatever piece of clothing he had on. He noted the anxiety that took form in faint dark circles under his eyes and bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. “I’ll stay,” Billy whispered, watching over the other’s face for a reaction.

Steve tore his attention away from the nothingness and their eyes deadlocked, faint smiles replacing the frowns that stood there.

Getting out of the car, passing through the front door, and going up the stairs became a breeze knowing Hargrove followed every step he took, knowing that tonight maybe Billy took the opportunity to escape and feel safe in what he referred earlier to his place, home, casa.

Steve laid on the bed with his arms resting above his head, counting every space and line that was embedded into the ceiling before turning to face the bathroom door. He didn’t know why his face got red hot or why it felt so different seeing Billy take off his shirt to get in the shower, but it just did. The privacy of the whole situation was weird. Everything tonight was weird. Weird.

Eventually, the natural yellow light emitting from his lamp had disappeared with the click of it’s switch. They were left in the darkness of Steve’s room to lay and ponder. To ponder everything leading up to this very moment where Billy Hargrove was sleeping in Steve Harrington’s bed, but of course without him in it. Steve slept on the couch in the room, continuing to stare up at the ceiling and make some sort of sense out of the imaginative colors that danced in his vision and what exactly happened tonight. Steve went to a party, had an emotional breakdown with his worst enemy, and now they’re sleeping in the same room, wide awake as ever with the same question toying with their minds.

What were they now?

[feminarrie]

under the same moon - two

a/n: first, thank you so so much for all the positive feedback i’ve received for the prologue and first chapter! it really means a lot! second, thank you for being so patient for this next chapter! if the next few weeks are kinder to me, i should be establishing a consistent posting schedule!

if you’d like to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! 

Hanna’s dancing around her living room, microfiber cloth in hand, as she attempts to clean up her apartment. Her voice carries over the sound of Cyndi Lauper’s “Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun” and she hopes that her neighbors don’t mind the full-on performance that she is putting on because she has no intention of toning it down.

Not when Imogen is less than an hour away from Northridge.

She had received the text message nearly three hours ago, but the excitement hadn’t dwindled since then. In fact, as the clock on the stove neared closer and closer to three in the afternoon, Hanna could feel the anticipation rising. It had erased any residual jet lag that Hanna had felt and replaced it with an exuberant amount of energy.

Hanna had managed to do the food shopping, tidy up her room, and was very close to having the entire apartment spotless before Imogen walked through the door. All that was left to do was a quick dusting of the the shelves, bookcases, and entertainment system that occupied the small space. Which took much longer than expected because Hanna is only just finished wiping down the storage space beneath their coffee table when Imogen walks in.

“Skeeter!” Imogen exclaims, kicking the door shut behind her and disregarding all of the bags she had brought with her.

Hanna’s chocolate irises are set alight when she hears the voice of her best friend behind her. She swivels to see her and just barely manages to stabilize her footing before she’s bounding toward her petite best friend. At just a quarter of an inch past five and five inches, Hanna is hardly tall. But, she dwarfs Imogen, who stands at only five feet tall.

“Imogen!” Hanna squeals, wrapping her arms around Imogen’s shoulders and squeezing tightly.

They stay like that for a moment, each laughing and squeaking with excitement. Hanna is the first to step back from the embrace and allows herself to take in Imogen’s appearance. She pays little attention to what Imogen is actually wearing, but does take in the way her skin glows with the sun and relaxation that she managed to get on her week long cruise. Mostly, she takes in the smile on Imogen’s face that mirrors the excitement and relief on her own.

“You look so good!” Hanna says, pulling her back in for a hug before releasing Imogen completely. “How was the cruise!?”

Imogen dives into the details of her Caribbean cruise. She tells Hanna about the cute lifeguard that had made eyes at her for almost the entire trip. Imogen goes into deeper detail about the family drama that happened before the ship had even set off.

“It was all over a bed, Hanna. Marcus still has a black eye!” Imogen groans, referring to how her younger brother Samuel had punched Marcus, the youngest, almost as soon as they had gotten into the room.

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Hanna says with a shrug.

In being friend with Imogen for three years and living with her for two of them, she’s met her entire family on several occasions. Samuel and Marcus were always at each others’ throats. She’s seen them fight over who got the last slice of pizza that Hanna had bought as thank you to Imogen’s family for helping them move in. So, she really isn’t surprised over the scuffle they had.

“Enough about me, though.” Imogen interjects, taking a seat on Hanna’s bed after they’d wandered back from the kitchen. “How was London?”

Hanna had made them a glass of sangria each when she realized that the clock had struck five. After all, having Imogen back in their apartment was a cause for celebration.

She sits on the desk beanbag that sits in the corner of her room, just below the windowsill and beside a stack of her favorite books to reread. And the cherry red liquid esloshes around in its short stemmed glass, very nearly spilling, but Hanna manages to balance it before so much as a drop falls.

“Really good.” Hanna admits, moving swiftly on to list all of the history she had learned while exploring different landmarks.

Did you know that Charles Dickens used to carry around a compass to ensure that he slept facing north because he thought it would improve his writing? Hanna didn’t either, but the fun fact is forever in her arsenal should someone ask.

Imogen can tell that Hanna is holding something back though. It is evident in the way she chews at a hangnail at the corner of her thumb, a nervous habit that Hanna worked really hard to shake. But, it’s rearing its ugly head because she’s nervous about verbalizing all that has gone on since she had met Niall. As if speaking it out loud would have each syllable and hopeful inflection dropping and puncturing the little bubble she had created around herself.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or am I going to have to drag it out of you, Skeeter?” Imogen is raising a polished brow at her.

Hanna looks at her from over the brim of her glass as she takes a sip of the sweet cocktail, her brown eyes catching the light of the setting sun and the golden light enriches the color. She swallows before letting out a sigh. There’s absolutely no way she can keep a secret from Imogen.

“I sorta met a guy while I was in London, I guess?” Hanna shrugs, as if the most basic detail wasn’t true. “Remember Ira from freshman year?” She asks, waiting for Imogen’s response.

“She lived down the hall freshman year, right?” Imogen asks, raising her glass to her lips and taking an audible sip of her drink.

“Yeah,” Hanna confirms. “Well, we went out one of our last nights there. And I’m not sure how we ended up at some fish and chip shop, but we did.” She pauses for a moment, digging for her phone in the pocket of her shorts. “There was this guy there with his group of friends.”

She tosses Imogen her phone once she’s opened up Niall’s instagram page. Imogen scrolls through his profile while Hanna continues her story of that night. She omits the personal details that Niall had shared with her, but continued to delve into just how well they had gotten along. And told her about Niall’s insistence to drive her and Ira home because he didn’t want her wasting the remainder of her money on a taxi.

“So…” Imogen trails off, wondering why Hanna still looked as though she had something else to say.

“So,” Hanna begins, chewing on her lower lip and her eyes shift from Imogen, to the left wall, and the ceiling before landing back on her again. “We’ve spoken every single day. Texts and Skype calls. I almost fell asleep with him on video two days ago.”

.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

Her eyes were very nearly bloodshot, red and pink veins twisting and intertwining across the white of her eyes. It was close to nine in the morning for Niall, who had very evidently still been asleep when she called him. She only realized that she had called on Niall’s only day off from work when he’s groggy and mumbling a “‘lo?” when he answered.

“Sorry for calling so early. And on your day off.” Hanna had mumbled, cheek pressed to her pillow as she rolls to her left side.

Niall wiped some sleep away from his tear duct and long eyelashes were soon fluttering as he opened his eyes. He blinked sleepily at Hanna, his vision still slightly blurred.

“No, no. Don’t be sorry.” He yawned, reaching behind the camera of his phone to grab his glasses. “S’why I keep myself logged in, love.”

And Hanna’s heart melted a little at that. The fact that he had kept himself active on the application for instances such as that was far too sweet of someone she had met only a few weeks prior. He didn’t owe her any such kindness, even with how close they were becoming. Interrupting someone’s day off of work—before it’s even begun—because she couldn’t sleep hardly seemed fair. But, with a foggy mind and the loud thunder that seemed to be hovering just above her part of town, she really didn’t feel comfortable sleeping alone.

Normally, her apartment is at least occupied by Imogen. Who typically wakes up when she hears the claps of thunder and shuffles into Hanna’s room to make sure she’s alright. Other times, Tyler and Sonam drag her into the living room to occupy her until the storm begins to migrate or dissipate.

“Remember when I told you I was an absolute baby about thunderstorms?” She asked, watching as Niall unfolds the arms of his glasses and perches the bridge of them on his nose.

It had been Niall’s turn for his heart to soften. He did recall her talking about how scared she was of thunder—not the rain that it brought though, she loved the rain—when she was on his lap at his apartment. He had thought that maybe it was an exaggeration, but he watched her jump with a particularly bright flash of lighting lights up her room and the crash of thunder that follows soon after. And he shouldn’t have been endeared, but he was. Desperate to have her beside him too, if he was honest. He would’ve liked nothing more than to pull her into his lap and remind her that he’d keep her safe from the storm.

He supposed words would have to do.

“Oh, love. You’ll be alright.” Niall whispered, shifting to his side just like Hanna had. “Is there anything I can do to calm ya down?”

“Just talk to me.” Hanna admitted, pulling her covers to sit just below her chin.

“What would you want to talk about?” Niall asked, kind still in the process of reorienting itself after a particularly vivid dream.

Hanna hummed quietly to herself in thought before answering. “Do you have any plans for your day off?”

“Mm, Liam’s mum is meant to stop by later, I think.” Niall mumbled, pulling down the notification center of his phone to see that it was nine o’ clock on the dot. “She said she’d be ‘round at eleven. Still does his laundry, can you believe that?”

In the midst of pulling her comforter tighter around her, Hanna laughs. It was a short and sweet sound that Niall would’ve missed if he wasn’t so focused on her. It’s paired with a delicate smile that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Niall took it as a small personal victory for being a sufficient distraction from the frightening weather outside.

“I would kill to have my mom still do my laundry.” Hanna admitted, “I’d love to have her up here in general.”

She’d been open with Niall about how close she is with her parents, so it doesn’t shock him that Hanna wishes her mother were closer. But, he can’t miss the homesick look in her eye when she talks about it. It’s a melancholy look that brings a sad smile to her lips, but her eyes shine bright. As if she was remembering all of the best parts of being home when she’s many miles away.

“When’s the next break that you have?” Niall asked, moving to sit up in his bed.

“Not until March, for spring break.” Hanna said after a moment, caught up in the fact that she was moping about missing home when she’s still got more than a week to take a trip if she’d like.

But, Imogen would be back soon and she knows that everything will feel much more homey when she does. And Niall does make her feel more at home, if she was honest. It’s why she had called him in the first place.

He emanated a feeling of safety that was so strong that it stretched across land, sea, and phone screens.

“You could always go see her then?” Niall suggested, pressing his back to his headboard and stretching his free arm up.

He was completely bare on top, Hanna noticed. A thick dusting of hair on his chest and broad shoulders immediately captivated her attention.

She was glad that the room was dark and thus, her image was grainy. Or else Niall would have seen the mauve-toned blush rise to her cheeks. She wasn’t quite ready to have a conversation about how ridiculously attractive she found him.

“I usually do. Imogen usually tags along, too.” Hanna said, yawning shortly thereafter.

Niall noticed the fatigue start to settle in as Hanna continued to talk. Her voice becoming softer and some words were hard to understand when she begins to mumble almost incoherently. Her thoughts were half finished and she jumped from one topic to another without much notice.

“Hanna,” Niall spoke softly, trying to gain her attention. “Hanna, love.”

Hanna knuckled at her eyes, stopping herself in the middle of her sentence. She couldn’t recall exactly what she was talking about, but she knew that Niall had stopped her before she could finish. It settled a pout on her plump lower lip when she finally got her eyes to focus back on the screen.

“S’rude to interrupt people when they’re talking, Niall.” She grumbled, finally halting her movements when the inner corner of her eye becomes sore and red.

“Sorry, love.” Niall laughed. “But, I think it’s about time you get some sleep, yeah? You’ve been mumblin’ about invisible monsters or something like that for fifteen minutes.”

“The book, Niall. Invisible Monsters by Charles Palahniuk.” Hanna grumbled again, but she’s still nodding to Niall’s suggestion. “I think so, too.”

“Alright.” Niall agreed, happy that Hanna was finally comfortable enough to sleep. “Just text me whenever you’re up, love.”

Hanna nuzzled further into her deflating pillows, too exhausted to fluff them up before she fell asleep. And Niall was once again so endeared that he had to bite his lower lip to conceal the face splitting smile that threatens to consume his face.

“I will. Good morning, Niall.” Hanna whispered, eyes already closed and breathing beginning to even out. “Hope you have a good day.”

“Already started out perfectly.” Niall admitted, though he wasn’t entirely sure Hanna heard it because quite frankly, he’s convinced she was already asleep. “Goodnight, Hanna.”

.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

Two more glasses of sangria and a hefty deliver from Musse later, Hanna and Imogen were sprawled out across their couch. Imogen’s head was in Hanna’s lap while an episode of Friends played in the background. Neither paid attention to it, though. It was simply their go-to show when they were in need of some type of background noise.

“So, do you like Niall?” Imogen asks, glancing from her phone to Hanna. “I mean, it’s fairly obvious that you do. I haven’t seen you this gone for a boy since you had thing for Brad from that history class you took sophomore year.”

Hanna rolls her eyes at Imogen which earns her a slap to the thigh.

“I don’t know why you’d ask me, then.” Hanna pokes her tongue out at Imogen, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“To hear you say it,” Imogen says with a shrug.

Hanna leans forward slightly, flicking Imogen on the nose before pressing her back against the couch again. It has Imogen’s nose scrunching up and her eyes narrowing at her best friend.

“You’re so annoying.” Hanna rolls her eyes once again. “I like him, though. A lot.”

Hanna’s no longer afraid to mutter the words now. Not after Niall had texted her some picture of his grumpy face when he’d come home to an empty flat. And continued to text her. She could practically hear him grumbling about how Liam hadn’t told him he’d be home for the next few day. Even asked about Imogen and how excited she was to haver her back.

The happy bubble that surrounded her and Niall seems to be much stronger than she had thought. She still feels weightless and buzzing whenever Niall’s name lights up her screen. She still has to bite her lip when she texts him back, for fear of looking like an absolute weirdo, grinning down at her phone.

“Are you going to tell him?” Imogen pushes because she knows how Hanna is.

The question is valid. But, Hanna isn’t really sure if she’s willing to be vulnerable enough to share her feelings (even though she’s told him things even Imogen doesn’t know). Because being that vulnerable, with someone so far away, is scary. Downright petrifying, if she allows herself to be honest.

But, Hanna can’t shake the feeling that Niall is meant to be in her life. She can feel it with every muscle, bone, follicle, and fiber within her. And it only seems to strengthen when his eyes dance across her face and hang on her every word during their almost nightly video calls.

“I don’t know.” Hanna is truthful in her response. “I don’t know.”

feedback? | series masterlist 

taglist: @stylishmuser | @exoticniall | @irish-nlessing | @niallersdirtylaundry | @niall-is-my-dream | @fireawaynjh | @starboyhaz | @klairelavarias

[leiascully]

Did you want some MASMTWM?  You got it.  Now with less transphobia although just as much drag queen goodness.

Mulder's phone rings after dinner.  They're lounging in his hotel room, looking over the file, batting possibilities back and forth like a game of table tennis.  He puts it on speaker.

"Agents Mulder and Scully," he says.  

"Agents, this is the local PD," says the voice on the other end of the line.  "We've got a little bit of a situation down at the truck stop if you could make yourself down here."  

"Just a situation?" Scully says.

"It's, uh, a little hard to explain," the officer says.  She sounds perplexed.  "I'd really appreciate it if you could get down here.  Ow!  Ma'am!"  They hear shouting, and then the line cuts off.

Mulder reaches for the keys.  "You wanna drive?  My night vision's going."

"Aww," she says indulgently.  "We'll have to get you some of those anti-glare glasses."

"Don't believe everything that you see on tv," Mulder says, picking up his jacket.  He opens the door.

"You remember those commercials for the Amazing Yappi?" she reminisces, walking to the parking lot.  "I used to watch those all the time when I couldn't sleep.  Didn't we meet him once?”

"I used to call you when I couldn't sleep," Mulder says.

"I remember," she tells him.  She takes the keys and clicks open the locks.  They climb into the car.  

"You know the way to the truck stop?" he asks.

"I was just going to follow the screaming," she says, and starts the car.  It isn't hard to find the truck stop.  The giant sign towers above the highway.  The screaming has stopped by the time they arrive, but the officer doesn't look any less stressed than she sounded on the phone.  The cause of that stress turns out to be a person wearing more sequins than Mulder had previously thought plausible.  

"Are you the FBI?" the person demands.  "Thank the Lord, I can't get through to this particular uniformed personnel."  She dismisses the officer with a wave of her hand.  "I'm Annabel, and I'm the belle of this town.  Pleased to meet you."  She extends a hand.  Mulder isn't sure whether he's expected to kiss it or shake it.  He settles for the latter.

"A firm handshake," Annabel says.  "That's the mark of a cultured lady."

"Good to know," Mulder says.  "I'm Agent Mulder, and this is Agent Scully."

Annabel shakes Scully's hand and looks her up and down.  "Hello, Agent Cheekbones.  Have you ever tried contouring?"

"I can't say that I have," Scully says in a dry voice.  "Can you describe what happened, ma'am?"

"Please, call me Annabel," Annabel tells her.  "I was just leaving a gig, and performing makes me so hungry.  I leave my heart and soul on that stage, not to mention my blood, sweat, and tears.  This truck stop makes a hell of a burrito, just divine.  They roll the fries right up into it, and the sauce?  It restores me.  Well, I was in the parking lot after having consumed said divine burrito and some gentlemen got the wrong idea.  Sometimes the eleganza just drives them crazy.  Maybe it's the full moon, I don't know.  They were hollering at me from their truck, and I was hollering back, and next thing I know, this lizard thing is coming up behind me, growling like a thunderstorm.  I don't stand for that.  No ma'am, no ma'am.  I turned around and hit him square in the face with my bag.  It is a known fact that a lady do carry an evening bag at dinner time.  He should have known better."  

She hands the purse in question to Mulder.  It glitters under the lights of the truck stop.  Mulder turns it over in his hands and holds it up.  There's a hole straight through it, and the impression of a face with strangely prominent eyebrows.  He gazes through the hole at Annabel and then turns to face Scully, who quirks her mouth at him.  Mulder hands the purse back to Annabel, who tucks it under her arm with a smile.   

"Looks like you gave it a pretty good shot," Mulder says.  

"I hit it right in its horn," Annabel says proudly.  "Years of Little League.  I think Momma was just trying to keep me out of her closet, but ooh, I swung his ass for the fences."

"It has a horn?" Scully asks.  "Like a rhinoceros?"

"It had horns," Annabel says, emphasizing the plural.  "Not like a rhinoceros.  More like a lizard or some kind of dinosaur, just spikes all over the back of its head."  

Mulder pulls the sketch of the three-eyed lizard man out of his jacket pocket.  "Did it look anything like this?"

"No," Annabel says immediately.  "The thing I saw only had two eyes.  Red eyes.  Maybe colored contacts or something, but, like, good ones.  And it was wearing underwear."

"Boxers or briefs?" Scully says in that deadpan she likes to use when she's purposefully not laughing at a witness.  Mulder remembers her asking that poor girl with the baby with the tail if her "Luke Skywalker" had a lightsaber in exactly the same tone.

Annabel scoffs.  "Tighty-whities.  The uniform of unfashionable straight boys.  Same kind I used to wear, back when that's what I pretended to be.  No more plain cotton Fruit of the Looms for me.  I transitioned last year."  She glances at Mulder.  "I bet your partner here invests in his foundation garments."

"Congratulations," Scully says, ignoring the last comment.  

"Did you see which way it headed?" Mulder asks.  

Annabel gestures.  "I told the officers it slithered off that way, but they think I'm on crack."

"Are you?" Mulder asks.

Annabel touches her chest in a gesture of shock.  "I am high on life!  The thrill of performance!  But if a gentleman wants to buy me a drink, I don't say no, and I couldn't say what was in them."  She bats her eyes.  Mulder glances at Scully.  She microshrugs.  

"If you're going to be in town a few days, you should come down to the club," Annabel tells them.  She points at the boxy building next door.  It's got that seedy nondescript strip club look.  "You'll see something you can't believe."

"That happens to us a lot," Mulder says.  

"I love a challenge," Annabel says.  "Now if you'll excuse me, this kind officer promised me a ride home."  She wiggles her fingers at the officer, who waves back with a long-suffering grimace.  

"She's a challenge," Mulder murmurs.

"I think we should go see the show," Scully says.  "Maybe we can figure out which gentleman supplied her with whatever caused her to hallucinate a red-eyed lizard man in unfashionable underwear."

"That's not a hallucination, Scully, that's a corroborating witness," Mulder tells her.

"Is that your professional opinion?" Scully asks.  "Three witnesses, all clearly intoxicated?"

"You say intoxicated, I say receptive to the mysteries of the universe," he teases.  "You want a burrito?"

"Actually, yes," she says, and her shoulder bumps comfortably against his arm as they head into the truck stop.

[fanficimagery]

@soundshoodfeelshood said: Hi!! I just wanted to say that I love your writing x Could you maybe do a Jeff Atkins fic where the Reader is Justin's little sister and is friends with the Jocks so when the reader comes into school after spending the night with Jeff, everyone is a bit stand off-ish? I hope that's not too complicated >.<

Jeff X Reader

Lightning cracks across the sky and you flinch back from Jeff's bedroom window. It had been drizzling since that very morning and only picked up in intensity once school had let out for the day. And since you had went home with Jeff to help him study for the upcoming test on Friday, and his mother insisted you stay for dinner, you're now trapped at the Atkins' residence while severe thunderstorm warning after warning comes across your phone.

"Hey," Jeff softly says while entering his room, "it's really bad out and my mom wants to know if you're comfortable with staying the night?"

Flinching as thunder claps, you shrug. "Yeah. My mom probably doesn't even know I'm still gone and I can text Justin to let him know I'm okay. Do you.. do you think I can wash the clothes I'm in now so I can wear them again tomorrow? My jeans and.. underwear could use a wash and I'm fine with wearing one of your shirts."

Cheeks tinging red as you mentioned washing your underwear, you try to avoid Jeff's gaze but he merely chuckles before entering the room further. His arms wrap low around your waist as he gently rocks you back and forth, pecking your forehead in the process and your hands grasp his shirt on either side of his ribs. "My mom is way ahead of you already. Since it's lightning out you can't shower tonight, but you can change into some of my clothes and then take yours downstairs. My mom's putting a load into wash now before power decides to go out."

You huff. "Your mom is seriously the best."

The two of you pull apart and Jeff immediately seeks out a large shirt, a pair of boxers and a pair of sweat pants. You gratefully take the clothes from him before padding towards the bathroom out in the hall and you change into your boyfriend's clothes. With yours balled up in your arms, you head downstairs and into the laundry room where Jeff's mother is waiting with a smile on her face.

"Hey, sweetie," you says as you hand your clothes over, "are you sure your mother's okay with you staying here?"

"Mrs. Atkins, I'm sure you know- as well as the whole town- that my mother isn't exactly.. maternal," you sheepishly confess. "My brother and I look after each other, and half the time he spends his nights at Bryce's house, so I'm sure me staying here because it's too dangerous to drive will be okay with him. I just have to text him to let him know."

"Okay. As long as you're sure."

"I'm sure."

The storms had remained severe over night, tornado watch alerts pinging your phone every so often. You had texted your brother Justin that you'd be staying at a friend's overnight since it was too dangerous to have anyone drive you home, and that you'd see him at school the next morning. And since you weren't a fan of thunderstorms, Jeff's parents let you sleep in his room as long as Jeff slept on the air mattress and the door stayed open. You had then opted to take the air mattress, but none of the Atkins were hearing any of that and you got Jeff's bed all to yourself.

The following morning is still rather gloomy, so you throw your hair up in a messy bun after your shower. You pull on your clean underwear and jeans, and slip on one of Jeff's old jersey's. Tucking the front hem of the jersey into your jeans, you let the back hang loose and wait around for Jeff to be ready.

Then twenty minutes later, Jeff's parking in the student parking lot at the high school and the two of you walk hand-in-hand towards your average day of Hell.

Clay walks up to the both of you, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans while smiling sheepishly in greeting. "Hey, guys. You, uh, you might wanna lay low today. The jocks are a bit.. antsy."

You chuckle while Jeff rolls his eyes. "Clay, you do remember I'm one of those jocks too. Right?"

"You know what I mean," he huffs. "I'm talking about the jocks who aren't dating Justin's little sister."

Your smile immediately vanishes. "What happened?"

"Apparently, you happened," Clay says. "Justin's been texting and asking around about which friend you stayed with last night." You wince, Jeff sighs and Clay chuckles. "Yep. Apparently you forgot to ask one of your friends to cover for you and Justin knows exactly who you stayed with last night. It'll be even worse since you're wearing Jeff's shirt too."

"But nothing happened! Jeff slept on the floor."

Clay holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm not judging. That's none of my business. I'm just warning you to be cautious."

"Thanks for the heads up," Jeff says, "but we should clear the air before it gets even worse."

Clay nods before going on his way and before you even breathe a sigh, Montgomery is walking up. "Y/N," he smirks. "Justin's looking for you."

You roll your eyes. "I figured. Where's he at?"

"The gym." Monty's gaze then turns to Jeff and his smirk falls. "Atkins," he then deadpans.

"Montgomery."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter angrily. "Cut the bullshit, Monty. I know why Justin's looking for me and I'm going to tell you the same thing I'm going to tell him. Nothing happened! The storm was too dangerous to drive through and Jeff's parents suggested I spend the night. Everyone demanded I take the bed, Jeff slept on an air mattress and we slept with the bedroom door open!"

Monty's eyes subtly widen. "Come on, Y/N, don't yell at me. I mean can you really blame us? You're like a little sister to us all and you spent the night at your boyfriend's house. What do you think would happen when everyone found out?"

"Whatever. It's too early for this bullshit." As you start to walk away, you drag Jeff along with you since your hands are still clasped together. "Lets get this over with."

As you stomp towards the gym and shove open the door, several of the jocks playing basketball along with Bryce come to a stop. Bryce's gaze darts between you and Jeff, he snorting as he goes back to slowly dribbling the basketball in hand. The others playing with him glare at Jeff, but you merely roll your eyes and head towards the bleachers where you see your brother and Zach sitting.

But the moment you're just a few feet away, Justin launches himself off the bleachers. Zach tries to catch him, but he misses and you step in front of Jeff as your brother advances. "Stop!" Justin reaches over you and shoves Jeff by the shoulder, and with both hands you shove your brother back. "I said stop!" You yell. "Jesus. You're causing a scene for no goddamn reason, J."

"Where the hell were you last night?" He yells at you instead.

"You know where I was," you frown. "Now stop acting like a dick and lets talk this out like civilized human beings." Jeff remains quiet at your back, and Justin glares at him before turning and marching back towards the bleachers. Zach offers you a feeble smile, but his smile falters when he looks at Jeff. "For fuck’s sake," you then mumble. "You guys are acting like jerks for no reason."

"No reason? No reason!" Justin harshly states, reclaiming his seat as to not do something he'd probably regret. "My little sister just spent the night at her boyfriend's house and now she's coming to school wearing his clothes. How do you think this was going to go, Y/N?"

"One, it's just a shirt," you huff. "And two, nothing happened! I slept on the bed and Jeff slept on the floor. I'm not mom, J. I'm not trying to get knocked up while still in school and become a junkie soon after."

Some of his anger bleeds from his features. "I didn't say you were mom."

"You might as well," you sigh. "I'm not stupid. We're not stupid," you then amend while gesturing to your boyfriend. "We have our whole lives ahead of us and we're not trying to complicate it by adding a baby to the mix."

"I promise you," Jeff finally speaks up. "Nothing happened and nothing will happen. We're pretty content with our relationship without adding anything else to the mix. And plus, you guys are like my family. Did you really think I'd willingly piss you guys off by sleeping with your sister?"

Justin frowns. "Yeah, well it's gonna happen. Isn't it? Everyone's pretty sure you're each others soulmate."

Chuckling, you shake your head in amusement. "And when it does, you can't pull this shit. I'll be an adult by then and you have no say so in my love life."

Both Justin and Zach grimace, and Jeff chuckles over your shoulder. "Fine, but one thing," Justin says. "The day you guys to decide to take that next step, don't let me find out. That's just weird."

"Uh huh." As you and Jeff start to walk away, you grin at your brother. "And by the way, it's up to you to tell everyone to knock it off. You got them fired up about something that didn't happen, so you get to tell everyone your little sister's virtue is still in tact and that they have to be nice to my boyfriend again."

Zach starts to laugh as Justin mumbles something too low for you to hear. "Fine. Whatever," he eventually says louder for you hear.

[nettlestonenell]

Find the earlier bits here.

Part VII - Rainy Night

The paparazzi issues in Conrad’s life have begun to mount. One Friday he attempts to leave his townhouse amid the growing sea of photographers camped out on his street, and several of them jump into cars and onto motorcycles to try and follow him.

In an attempt to get free of them, he heads for the beltway, pushing the limits of his used-cooking oil-fueled Volkswagen. When finally he loses those still on his tail, he’s--well, he’s nowhere near where he had originally meant to go. He’s actually, sort of, you know, near the road that leads off toward Ada’s town.

He takes the exit, but with no particular intent in mind. Somewhere in the back of his head he recalls something about Ada’s farm being roughly 400 acres in size, and Google Earth showing the house well off the public road. (He’s not proud of knowing about what her land looks like on Google Earth, it was just…a moment of weakness.)

While on the beltway, fierce thunderstorms have blown up, and rain has been battering his windshield. He tells himself he’s not actually going toward Ada’s home, he’s just—enjoying a moment away from the men and their cameras that have been dogging his every step of late.

When he gets hungry, just before dark, he stops at a gas-n-go and buys a deli sandwich of indiscriminate age and ingredients. Without relish, or even much looking at it, he eats it. At least his stomach has stopped complaining.

And then, thirty or more minutes down the road, off-ramps becoming rarer every passing mile, his Volkswagen hydroplanes. He is unhurt, but his car is literally on its side. It’s dark blue in color, and without its lights on is nearly impossible to see in the downpour. He can get no reception on his cell phone.

There is nothing to do for the situation but to walk. He finds an old ballcap in his trunk, a musty, long-unused down coat he keeps there for winters just in case. He grabs a book—Reveries of a Solitary Walker, because of course you grab a book. He leaves the flashers and brights on in his car in the hopes no one will hit it.

He has no umbrella, and his shoes are particularly unsuited to the standing water on the road. His glasses not only fog up from the body heat the down coat is producing in him in the summer weather, the rain doesn’t spare them either.

And still he walks.

In five minutes he is wetter than he can ever imagine being in his life. The down coat weighs three times what it had in his dry trunk.

When he finally sees approaching headlights, he almost throws himself in the path of the oncoming vehicle to get it to stop.

It’s a truck, a woman is driving it. “Get in,” she says, “I can take you to somewhere you can make a call.”

“That’s my Volkswagen,” he says, indicating the accident up the road.

“Figured,” says she, putting the truck in drive and continuing down the road as he settled himself.

He removed his glasses in an attempt to clean and dry them and see again.

“Oh no, you’re not--” he hears her say as he holds his glasses up to the light. “You’re him.”

“Maybe I just look like him,” he said, kind of hoping she might buy it.

“Nah, I don’t believe in witchcraft,” she said. “You’re him.”

He sneezed. “Are you going to make me get out?”

“Are you going to cause trouble?” she asked.

“I just want to get dry and,” his stomach made a very loud and very peculiar noise, “gather myself. Then I’ll be on my way. Promise.”

“Stay clear of Garrett when you see him,” she warned him.

“Garrett?”

“The boyfriend,” she said.

“Oh, I, didn’t know there was one. Should’ve assumed.”

“He’s probably taken himself off home for the night, but you never know. Come to think of it, steer clear of Roger, too.”

“Roger?”

“The brother,” she said, “my husband.”

“So you’re the sister-in-law?”

“I am, at that. Along with Roger and Ada’s mum and dad, we live on the farm. Roger and I have our own house, not too far from the big house. Ada’s slowly building a house of her own, but for now she stays with her parents.”

He nodded.

“I don’t think you ought to expect that she’ll be happy to see you.”

“You know, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t mean to come out here—I was just, I was only—“

“You’re a long way from Toronto.”

“I know, I know. I was being chased by some cameramen and I just got in my car and—“ he had no good explanation as to why he had ended up on their road.

“You’ll see,” she told him, “we’re good at taking in strays. But stay in the truck for a moment. I don’t wanna spring you on her—or them.”

“Good idea,” he said. His stomach lurched in a way that made him feel very wary of what was to come in the next half-an-hour. And it had nothing to do with nerves.

She did not seem to have heard it over the sound of the driving rain. 

“Gina,” she said, as she turned down an unlit and (as far as he could see unmarked) lane. “Call me Gina.”

(tbc)

[tucson-interviewed]

Tucson Interviewed: A Saguaro Cactus Rejected by an Online Retailer

On September 13th, 2017, Sun Corridor Inc., an economic development organization representing southern Arizona, sent a 21-foot saguaro cactus to online behemoth retailer Amazon as part of an effort to woo the company into building their announced second headquarters in Tucson.  Less than a week later, the saguaro was rejected by Amazon and being re-gifted to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum.

Huh, I remember thinking to myself, I think I have an idea of what that might feel like.

The saguaro turned out to be elusive, though, turning down all requests for interviews.  A spokesperson called for respect for privacy and blah blah blah.  Obviously, I wasn’t going to let this stop me.

It wasn’t easy, and don’t ask how I did it (but obviously I would have an answer if you asked and I decided to tell you), but this is A Saguaro Cactus Rejected by an Online Retailer Interviewed!

Catfish Baruni:  Hey, bud.  You doing okay?

Saguaro Cactus:  Huh?  Who are you?  How did you get in here?

CB:  Oh, it’s okay—I’m *supposed* to be here.

SC:  Oh, okay.

CB:  Also, I brought beer.

SC:  Oh, thank God.

CB:  So you’ve had a rough week, huh?

SC:  Yeah, that’s an understatement.

CB:  You wanna talk about it?

SC:  What good will that do?  It’s not going to change anything.

CB:  Maybe not the past, but it can have an effect on your future.

SC:  How?

CB: It’s well-known that bottling up your feelings can lead to an imbalance of bodily humors, and perhaps even cause a toad or a small gnome to take up residence in your stomach.

SC:  Not a small gnome!

CB:  Unfortunately, it’s true.  The science is very clear on this.  But if you don’t want to talk…

SC:  Waitaminute, mister!  I think, maybe, if you’re okay with it, I would like to talk.

CB:  You’re sure?  I don’t want to pressure you into anything.

SC:  Yes!  Please, I… it would really be great to have someone listen to me. Rejection… it has to be one of the worst feelings in the world.  You know?

CB:  Brother, look at me; of course I know.  I’ve been rejected from here to the Appalachian Trail. I’ve been rejected six ways from Sunday.  I’ve—I’m sorry, this isn’t about me.  Tell me about you.  How long have you been in Tucson?

SC:  You mean before I was rejected?  Or after?

CB:  I can see you’re still hurting.

SC:  Yes, that's a fair assessment of the situation.

CB:  I kind of meant cumulatively.  They loaded you onto a truck, but did you even leave town?

SC:  I don’t want to answer that.

CB:  But you’ve been here for a while.

SC:  For a while?

CB:  Yes, for a while.  I mean, based on your size, I’d guess you’re probably over 100-years-old.  But I’m really only an amateur amateur-botanist.

SC:  Sure, let’s go with that.  I mean, what do I know?  It’s not like I have a watch on any of my arms!

CB: …

SC:  Nothing?  Boy, I bet that would have killed in Seattle.  I bet Seattle would’ve understood my sense of humor.

CB:  Cactus--

SC:  Please, call me Gary.

CB:  Okay.  Gary, how have you seen Tucson change since you’ve been here?

SC:  Well, you people sure did come onto the scene in a big way.  I lost a lot of my friends because of you lot.  All this construction… it seems non-stop.  You know, that’s how I ended up at the nursery.  I was displaced.  

...and then I was dat-placed.  In fact, I was all-over-da-placed.

CB:  …

SC:  Come on, this is gold!  I swear, Seattle would have dug this.  You’ve obviously never been to Seattle.  It’s a much different vibe.  I mean, I’m told it is.

CB:  Can you tell me one of Tucson’s nicknames, Gary?

SC:  “Dirty T.”  Presumably because of all of the dirt being moved from construction.

CB:  Can you give Tucson a new nickname?

SC:  “Not-Funny Town.”

CB:  Gary, I’ve got to say, I’m really surprised.  I had no idea that you were an aspiring comedian of sorts.

SC:  Nobody ever asked before.  

CB:  As you may be aware, Tucson is home to a number of burrito joints.  From upscale to vending machine.  Tell me, what’s your ideal burrito filling?

SC:  I don’t eat burritos, sorry.

CB:  What do you eat?  Err, do you eat?

SC:  I guess I get nutrients or something from the soil?  But I LOVELOVELOVE me some water.  I’m such a pig when it comes to the wet stuff.  Don’t even watch!  You will lose your appetite.

CB:  Noted, Gary.  Now, to the uninitiated, driving the streets of Tucson can be an ordeal.  Do you have a favorite street to drive down?

SC:  I don’t know, man.  I was hoping for that long trip down I-10.  I thought the freeway would be my favorite.  I should point out, of course, however, that I can’t, myself, drive.

CB:  So then I guess you don’t have a least favorite street to drive down?

SC:  Rejection Blvd.  Is that a real street?

CB:  I’ll have to Google that, Gary.  [Editor’s note: I did not Google it.]  Tucson has a rich musical background.  It was mentioned in a The Beatles song and, I’m told, The Doors once played here.  What’s your favorite local musical act?

SC:  What’s the name of that guy who’s been recently singing that song the song about having cactus?

CB:  Al Perry?

SC:  Yeah.  I’ll pick him.

CB:  The University of Arizona is one of the largest employers in Tucson and plays an integral role in much of the happenings of the city.  In each interview, I like to ask a deep question about the U of A: can you tell me something about the U of A?

SC:  They’ve got a number of saguaros on their campus.  I respect that.

CB:  Now it’s time for a READER QUESTION: Natalia A. asks “What’s your favorite Tucson festival?”  On a personal note, you will be awarded bonus points if it’s a festival I’ve performed at.

SC:  What a great question, Natalia A.  I think I’ll have to go with the Tucson Fringe Festival.  I’ve been told I look like that neon cactus from their logo!

CB:  Bonus points for Gary!

The Sonoran Desert is home to Tucson, and nothing symbolizes the desert more than the iconic saguaro cactus.  Do you prefer saguaros with or without arms?

SC:  That question is offensive.  I won’t hear it and I won’t respond to it.

CB:  I apologize, Gary.  It was not my intention to offend you.  Can I ask you the next question?

SC:  That’s fine.  Apology accepted.

SC:  The monsoon season is a special time for the denizens of Tucson.  When a monsoon thunderstorm strikes, what do you prefer to be doing?

SC:  Drinking it in and drinking it up, baby!

CB:  It’s TOPICAL QUESTION time: do you have any thoughts on the Harvey Weinstein situation?

SC:  Look, I know swine.  I’ve lost count of the number who have come by to eat the fruit that I’ve dropped.  Calling this guy a pig?  That would be about a million steps up for him.  He came of age in the 60s so he didn’t know it wasn’t okay to be a monster?  Please.  Talk about pricks...

CB:  Please tell me you didn’t end that with a cactus pun.

SC:  I’m not on trial here!  Quit bending me over a barrel over here!

CB:  Dammit, Gary...

As much as I’m thinking about bailing on this, I’m being told that it is now time for the LIGHTNING ROUND.  We’re still working on the impressive, special effects-laden introduction.  In the LIGHTNING ROUND, I want you to give me your immediate, gut reactions to the questions.  If you think about an answer too long, you will be disqualified and will lose all money you’ve won thus far in the game.

CB:  Are you ready for the Lightning Round?

SC:  I’m really excited for it, even if I do seem so impossibly down-to-earth and grounded.

CB:  Oh, brother…

SC:  Don’t look so shocked.

CB:  Gary!  We are NOT doing this!  Now, tell me, when it comes to Eegee’s french fries: ranch or two ranches?

SC:  Neither, thanks.

CB:  Spring Fling or Pima County Fair?

SC:  County Fair

CB:  Sixth Ave or Sixth St?

SC:  Street

CB:  Yard sales on a Sunday morning or the Swap Meet on a Saturday night?

SC:  Yard Sales

CB:  Which is more annoying: people who misspell “Tucson” or people from Phoenix?

SC:  Phoenix

CB:  Preferred Gem Show purchase: “authentic” arrowheads or anything-turquoise?

SC:  Arrowhead

CB:  Sabino Canyon or Mt. Lemmon?

SC:  Sabino Canyon

CB:  Garry Shandling or Craig T. Nelson?

SC:  Garry

CB:  Finally, finish this sentence: “Tucson is…”

SC:  “...no Seattle.”