#cut out all the boys (took freaking forever)

[inbabylontheywept]

my grandpa was a good man. and it really wasnt his fault - recreationally lying to kids is a proud family tradition - but he told me, once, that cutting a worm in half resulted in two worms.

i think he said it so i'd be more morally okay with fishing? i actually dont remember the context.

point was, he told me this, and he understimated (by a very large margin) how much i liked worms. i was a worm boy. very wormy. and after hearing that, i went home, and i dug through the garden, flipped over every rock, did everything i could to gather as many worms as i could, and then i uh.

i cut them all in half. every worm i could find. all of them. with scissors.

i then took this pile of split worms, and i put them in a box with a bit of lettuce and some water and stuff and went to bed expecting to double my worms overnight. i have math autism, so i had a vague understanding that if i did this just a few times in a row, i would eventually have a completely unreasonable amount of worms.

i was very excited to become this plane's worm emperor.

(i think i was...six?)

anyway, i did not become the inheritor of the worm crown. i instead woke up to a box of dead worms and cried. a lot. i got diagnosed with panic attacks as a teenager, but i think i had them as a kid, i just had no idea what they were. i was kind of processing that a.) i had killed what i had assumed was every single worm in my yard, and thus would have no more worms, and b). i was going to like, worm hell.

(six year babylon spent a lot of time worrying about god.)

so i kind of freaked out, and i climbed a tree, because god can only smite you if you're touching the ground (?) and i sat up there mostly inconsolable until my mom came out and asked, hey, what's up? what happened?

so i explained to her that i had killed all of the worms, forever, and was also Damned, and she took me to the compost pile, and we dug for all of five seconds and found like twenty more worms.

the compost pile was full of worms.

she then told me that a). there were more worms, and we could put them back under rocks and stuff and recolonize our yard and b). that one day, i would die, and go to heaven, and be able to talk to the worms face to face. that i'd be able to tell them all that i was very sorry, and that i killed them on accident, driven only by excessive Love, and that she was positive they would forgive me because worms have six hearts and no malice.

at that point, i think i was sixty percent tear-snot by weight, and i had no choice but to gather enough worms that i could hug them. which my mom helped with. and then after that she helped me put some worms back under each rock.

and for my epilogue: i spent a significant portion of my childhood in trees. and for many years after, even when my mom didnt know i was watching, i would catch her giving the space under the rocks a light spritz with the hose. not because she loved worms.

but because she loved me.

[yooniivrse]

accidental meetings | myg

summary. navigating through awkward apologies and shared meals with your cute neighbour may promise more than just an unlikely friendship.

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pairing: yoongi x f!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: alcohol consumption

a/n: (this note has been edited) this was supposed to be oneshot and it ended up being apart of a mini-series…idk how we got here, but here we are :> hope you guys enjoy reading!!

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Your knuckles rapped against the door rhythmically for the second time.

Your eyes were unfocused and blurry and you could barely stand properly, having to hold onto the wall to prevent yourself from stumbling.

Everyone knew that going out to drink on an empty stomach was a bad idea. The lack of food had let the alcohol take its effect on you much sooner than you had anticipated, and your stomach lowly grumbled at the lack of food.

But when Maya—your roommate—had eagerly dragged you out of your dorm as soon as you returned from dropping all of your study materials back at the library, you didn't have the heart to say no.

A part of you also wanted to celebrate the end of your exams differently. Usually, the end of exam season meant catching up on all the shows you sacrificed watching to study. But going out for drinking also seemed fun.

You regretted your decision the moment Maya abruptly left the club with a random tatted-up guy, leaving you alone amidst the sea of drunk strangers and sweaty bodies. You too, left soon after, not wanting to deal with any creeps that could sour your happy mood.

How you managed to get home in one piece, you weren't sure. You were sure, however, that you had paid the taxi driver double the amount that was due. The overwhelming need to fall into the comforts of your bed seemed to have dulled your thinking, which is why your only annoyance grew with every second that you spent outside your dorm, waiting for Ari—your other roommate—to let you inside.

"Yah, Ari! Let me in you freak!"

You brought your hand up to knock again when the door swung open.

"Fuck's sake, Ari, thought you—hic—thought you were gonna lock me out forev-."

Your slurred words are cut short when your gaze is lifted from the ground to the man who stood in front of you.

His hand rubbed at his eye while his other roughly ran through his hair in an attempt to tame the dark, tousled locks. He stared at you with furrowed brows.

You tilted your head to the side and squinted your eyes.

"Did you shape-shift or something? What's up with yo—hic—your hair?"

You stepped closer to the stranger and reached out your hand when it dawned on you, hands freezing a few centimetres in front of his hair.

"Shit. You're not Ari, are you?"

The stranger shook his head.

"No, sorry. I think you got the wrong apartment."

His voice was deep and hoarse, still laced with sleep. You felt a pang of guilt in your stomach for waking him up in the middle of the night.

"But the door says seventeen though?"

You blinked blankly at him and another small hiccup escaped you as he looked up at the door. You followed his gaze to the bronze numbering which read seven and not seventeen.

"Shit, 'm so sorry for waking you up, I swear that it said seventeen, I'm really sorry."

Your hands came together in front of you as more apologies tumbled last your lips. Honestly, you barely knew what you were saying, but you felt your embarrassment taint your cheeks with a familiar warmth.

"It's fine, don't worry."

The man's words were awkward and you mumbled a final apology before you moved away. Your apartment was only ten doors down, but the carpeted hallway seemed to stretch out for an eternity. You couldn't deny the eerie feeling that clung to the cold lights and caused small goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

Fuck, you had seriously lost it.

You took a few steps with your hands dragging across the pale walls.

"Actually, do you want me to bring you down to your door?"

You look back to see the boy who had already closed his door behind him as he made his way to you. His skin was pale and it almost seemed to glow now that he had emerged from the shadows of his apartment.

Or maybe he was your guardian angel, and a ring of light was going to appear above his head. You were seriously considering the possibility. Why else would a random stranger be so kind to you?

"You really don't—hic—have, I've already disturbed you enough."

"I don't want to worry about you passing out in the hallway. I'm not sleepy anymore anyway, so it's fine."

You gave him an apologetic, timid smile.

"Thank you, uh-."

"Yoongi."

"Yoongi," you repeated. The words bounced off your tongue with ease.

You moved closer to him and ended up clinging to his arm instead of the walls. He lightly froze at your sudden touch but you don't notice.

Your steps are weak but you managed to get to your apartment with the help of his body that guided you.

Yoongi knocked on the door for you and Ari opened it within a few seconds.

"Ariiii!"

You tumbled into her hands and wrapped your arms around her in an uncomfortable embrace.

"Oh my God, ___?" Ari's eyes moved from you to the brunette who stood outside.

"Thank you so much! I'm very sorry if they said something," Ari said, offering the man an apologetic smile.

"No worries, it's fine." His hands rubbed against the back of his neck softly. "Have a good night."

"You too."

She closed the door sharply and Yoongi heard her voice scolding you as you simply giggled. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back to his apartment, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

He knew that he had seen you before—you were too memorable for him to forget. But to his frustration, he couldn’t exactly place when and where.

A small sigh left his lips as he knocked on his door. Leaving his keys inside wasn't ideal and he hoped that Jungkook would wake up to his knocks and let him in. However, he couldn't bring himself to regret walking you down the hallway or blame you for possibly being stuck outside for the rest of the night.

Instead, he found himself wishing to meet you again.

────

The elevator doors opened smoothly and you stepped outside, heaving a heavy bag of groceries in your arms. You supported the bottom of the thin plastic, begging the universe to not curse you and cause the plastic to rip a few doors away from your apartment. 

It had happened before and you still remembered the awkwardness in the air as you scrambled to grab a pack of pads as a group of boys walked past.

You scrunched up your nose and squeezed your eyes as the memory brought waves of embarrassment to course through you. You shook off the feeling as you began to walk along the empty hallway.

Except, it wasn’t exactly empty. Your eyes fell on a boy who sat crouched on the floor with his back against the wall. His dark hair fell in loose waves over his forehead and you noticed a silver earring that lightly glistened on one of his ears. You were sure that if it weren’t for the plaid, red shirt he wore, you would have missed his presence completely.

You unknowingly tilted your head to the side. His features were oddly familiar, from the curve of his nose to the shape of his narrow eyes and his plump bottom lip. 

He was pretty, you wouldn’t deny that. Even with the defeated look on his face.

As you got closer to his figure, realisation dawned on you. This was the guy who helped you to your apartment less than a few days ago.

You felt your cheeks turn warm.

You would’ve speed-walked to your apartment to avoid another possibly embarrassing encounter if it weren’t for the fact that his eyes had already met yours.

His eyebrows rose slightly in recognition and he immediately pushed himself to his feet and cleared his throat awkwardly.

You lick your lips before giving him a small smile. It was already too late to try and pretend you hadn’t seen him, so you went with the only option you had left; to walk over to him.

“Hi,” you said, keeping a smile on your face.

“Uh- hi.”

You had never wished for the ground to swallow you up more than you did at that moment. You were usually good with making awkward atmospheres comfortable, and you had no idea why your brain seemed to be malfunctioning.

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I ever got a chance to apologise to you properly for waking you up that night. I genuinely am sorry, I usually know my limits with alcohol and I don’t know what happened that day,” you said with a dry chuckle. 

Yoongi’s eyes crinkle into a soft smile and you swore that you felt your heart skip a beat. 

“And thank you so so much for bringing me to my apartment, I swear I would’ve ended up sleeping in the middle of the hallway if it weren’t for you!”

“It was nothing, don’t worry.” Yoongi waved his arm in the air as if he were swatting away your words. “I’m glad that I was able to prevent you from sleeping in the hallway.”

You both laughed and you noticed the way his smile stretched out to reveal his gums.

“Oh, I don’t think I got a chance to introduce myself. I’m ___.”

You shifted your groceries to one arm as you outstretched your other. Yoongi took it, his grip soft as he shook your hand. The touch lingered for a few seconds longer than it should have and even as you pulled back, you felt the ghost of his skin on yours.

“So, uh- what are you doing sitting outside your apartment?”

“Ah, that-.” He brought his hand to rest against the back of his neck sheepishly. “-I kinda got locked out. I don’t bother taking the keys since my roommates are usually home, but they’re out today and none of them are picking up their phone.”

As he spoke, his eyes glanced down at his phone. You noticed the array of cracks that spread across the black screen, mimicking the intricate pattern of a cobweb.

“Oh, I think know how you can get in.”

You had learned the hack from an action book you had read a few years ago. As you placed down your bag of groceries against the wall and fished out your wallet, you hoped that the hack wasn’t something that only worked in movies and books.

You looked through your cards and picked out the first unimportant-looking one you found, which happened to be a voucher for the new restaurant that had opened a few blocks down from your apartment complex.

You stepped forward and slid the card into the crack of the door where the handle was as Yoongi watched in curiosity.

You pressed down the card. It took more strength than you anticipated, as the lock didn’t move an inch. You tried again and you felt Yoongi take a step closer to you.

You begged the universe to be on your side. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of the only cute guy who had made an effort to talk to you.

“It’s fine, I can just wai-.”

The card slid down and a small click was heard as it pushed the lock back into the door.

“I can’t believe that worked,” you said, disbelief laced in your voice. However, the joy from your success was short-lived as the door opened up and your plastic card fell to the floor in small pieces.

“Oh my god, thank you so much, seriously.”

The excitement in Yoongi’s voice died down as soon as you turned back to look up at him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“No problem.”

“I’m sorry about the card,” he said and it was your turn to swat away his apologies.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. I owed you anyway. I guess we’re even now.”

Yoongi nodded and stepped inside. He picked up the pieces of plastic from the ground and handed it to you, noticing the broken lettering which he worked out to spell the name of the new restaurant that had opened up nearby.

You picked up your bag of groceries from the floor.

“Again, thank you. See you around,” he said with a small wave of his hand.

“Bye!” You mimicked the wave.

Yoongi couldn’t ignore the pang of guilt that twisted in his stomach as he watched you walk away. The restaurant wasn’t exactly fancy, but it was expensive enough for a college student. He softly shut the door and brought his bottom lip between his teeth in thought.

Maybe he could make it up to you.

────

Yoongi was the last person you expected to be greeted by outside your door on a Tuesday evening. But there he stood, sporting a plain, white t-shirt under a denim jacket.

“Oh, hi! Was not expecting you,” you said. You didn’t realise how unwelcoming the words sounded until they tumbled from your lips, but Yoongi didn’t seem to catch on.

“Yeah, uh- Look, I couldn’t help but feel guilty that you broke your voucher tryna help me so I got you this as an apology.”

He held out a brown, paper bag in front of him and you realise that the lettering printed on it read the name of the restaurant. You caught a glimpse of the plastic packaging of takeaway which confirmed your suspicions.

“Yoongi, I couldn’t possibly take this. I helped you out because you helped me out, and the voucher wasn’t even that big of a deal, genuinely!”

You reached out your hand to push the bag towards him again, but his grip persisted.

“Please?”

The word fell from his lips softly, almost a whisper, and you felt your heart skip a few beats. His eyes fell on yours for a split second before he broke his gaze. You didn’t have it in you to reject his kind gesture, but at the same time, you felt guilty if you did accept it.

“What about we share it? That makes it fair, right?”

“I- I don’t know-.”

“Please?” You’re voice mimicked his tone from when he had spoked the exact same word. “I’ll feel too guilty if I just take it. My roommates are both out for the night, so we can eat it together if you want.”

Yoongi hesitated, but the idea of spending time with you felt nice.

“Okay.”

Your lips curled into a bright smile as you invited him inside. Yoongi waited for you to close and lock the door, and followed you as you led him to your kitchen. He placed the paper bag onto the smooth, marble countertop as you pulled out two plates from the white cabinets that stretched up to the ceiling.

You began to take out all the containers and spread them out over the counter.

“There’s so much bro, I would not have been able to finish this,” you said with a smile that Yoongi returned.

“I mean, you could’ve shared it with your roommates.”

“Mhm, I guess. I rather share it with you though.”

The tips of Yoongi’s ears turned pink as he let out a timid chuckle. Honestly, you didn’t know what gave you the confidence, but you enjoyed the reactions you garnered from the brunet boy.

He helped you as both of you filled your plates with food. The aroma that easily spread across the kitchen made your mouths water, and you dug in as soon as you brought over chopsticks and spoons for the two of you.

“Damnn, this is good,” you said with a moan of satisfaction. You brought your hand up to cover your mouth as you spoke and Yoongi hummed in agreement. His own eyes fluttered shut as he savoured the taste.

“So, what do you do?” You asked before putting another spoonful of food into your mouth.

“I’m in a band. That’s why I moved here, actually. The other members thought we’d be more productive if we all lived together but I’m starting to doubt that."

You chuckle. “A band? Damn, that’s so cool."

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders. “I mean it is and I love all the members and all but...it can get tiring sometimes, y’know.”

Even though you couldn’t exactly relate to him, you nodded understandingly with a hum.

“You should play me one of your songs!”

“Uh- no.”

You shot him a scowl at his immediate rejection of the idea.

“Whyy? I won’t judge, I swear.”

Yoongi closed his eyes with a playfully pained expression on his face as you practically begged him for a chance to listen to one of his songs.

“I’ll show it to you eventually. Maybe.”

“Yah! No maybes, you’re definitely showing it to me next time!”

Next time. Yoongi couldn’t wait for the next time he could see you again.

A smooth conversation ensued after you both had taken a few more bites of the food. You felt oddly comfortable in front of him. You didn’t feel the need to cover your mouth when you laughed or hold back on your words, didn’t feel the need to hide away any part of yourself.

You felt like you could be yourself, and the feeling was strange. It caused a tug of warmth in your heart.

Soon enough, both of you had scoffed most of the food. You began to store the rest of the takeaway in sealed bowls and Yoongi moved to the dishes in the sink.

“Ah, you can just leave them, I’ll do them later,” you said, but Yoongi washed them anyway. A part of you was grateful that he did, as washing the dishes was one of your least favourite chores.

You took the plates he had rinsed and placed them into the dishwasher. Silence filled the air, only broken by the quiet ticking of the clock that hung on your wall, but the atmosphere was far from tense or awkward. Neither of you felt the need to try to start a random conversation and simply focused on the tasks at hand.

“Thanks so much, for the food and the cleaning up. I really do appreciate it!” You said as you wiped your hands dry on a small cloth.

“It’s no problem, really.”

You opened the door for him as he slipped into his shoes.

“We need to actually go to the restaurant someday, get the full experience y’know?”

Yoongi smiled with a nod.

“We can arrange a day over the phone if you want?”

“I’d love that!”

Yoongi fished out his phone from the back pocket of his darkly coloured jeans in an instant and typed in your number as you called it out to him.

“See you soon, ___.”

“Byee.”

You gave a quick wave of your hand which he returned before he began walking back down to his apartment. You couldn’t hide the content smile on your face as closed the door, eagerly grabbing your phone from the counter.

Yoongi sent you a text less than a minute later, and you added his number to your contacts.

You too couldn’t wait for the next time.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Breakup to Make Up

Summary: Chris is tired of pretending he doesn’t want you.

Pairings: frat boy! Chris Evans x black!reader

Warnings: minors dni, smut, unprotected sex, arguing, make up sex

(A/N: long time no see 😭 this took me forever to finish, but we’re finally here! Maybe a little rushed at the end cuz I just really really wanted to post something. Anyway please like, follow, and reblog with comments. Thank you 💜✌🏾)

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He wondered if you could feel him watching your every move. Eyes trailing up and down that body. Thinking about how it had been way too long since he’d seen it with nothing on. Three weeks to be exact. Fuck had you been mad at him.

He knows he shouldn’t have freaked out over your little friend or whatever but so what he was jealous. Yeah, yeah it made him a hypocrite or whatever but it’s not like you didn’t know about Britt.

And after that night it’s not like they’d been fucking around. Britt had ‘needed time to think.’ The two of them really only keeping up with appearances.

But he’d done it.

Finally.

Broke up with her.

Sure he knew the shit storm that would ensue was going to be not great. When her parents find out all hell would probably break loose. Her mother had big plans for them.

Ya know the whole big wedding. Where they move into a giant home in a suburb of Boston to be the perfect New England family. Chris was supposed to go off and be this guy that everyone was expecting him to be.

But what about what he wanted him to be. Maybe he didn’t want to think about what he was supposed to do. What about what he wanted to do.

Right now he wanted you.

Even if you were acting like couldn’t see him. It seemed like you’d been avoiding social settings. Which made sense, considering Britt’s sorority seemed to have it out for you even more than they did before.

It wasn’t like people hadn’t known about the argument over beer pong. Had been calling you trashy and shit. As if Britt wasn’t completely trying to egg you on. It’s just normally you wouldn’t have stood up for yourself as you usually tried to brush her off but then it was like how dare you not kiss the queen bee’s ass.

He was tired of dating a bully. It made him look like an ass too. Then you had the nerve to look so fucking sexy telling her off. Made him remember the moment he sunk into you. Chris didn’t even know sex could feel like that. Then he found himself envelopes in your warmth and now he couldn’t go back. So yeah sorry if you made him a little crazy.

Even still you’d done a great job at ignoring him. Had clearly blocked his number. Thought you were getting away from him. Clearly you didn’t know who you were fucking with because Chris had no intention of just letting you go and what giving someone else the chance to touch you? Over his dead body.

He’d been letting you play your little games and act like this but he was tired of it. He needed to get what was his. You were his.

Finally your eyes were connected. Though you tried to look away all quickly. And yet they still kept making their way to his. No way you were still mad at him.

Found himself chuckling when one of his frat brothers came up to you to start talking. Yeah fucking right. As if you’d show Preston any fucking attention.

So why the fuck were you giving him your number.

————

Ever since that day, Chris found himself more irritated than usual as he saw the way Preston had hung around you. Like a little fucking fly just buzzing around his favorite piece of dessert.

Grossed him the fuck out. Made him want to hit something. You had to be doing this on purpose, right? Was trying to get under his skin.

So what he couldn’t help himself. He needed to talk to you. “What, Chris?” You asked him all flat. Arms crossed. As if you were really sick of him.

“Cut the shit,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. Surprised you even answered the door of your dorm. Of course he saw you left and needed to make sure you were home and not who knows where with Preston of all people especially. Couldn’t stand the idea of that dweeb hanging around you. Around what was his. Even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself. “What’s going on between you and Preston?” He asked.

You found yourself scoffing. “That is none of your business.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? It’s not? So you’re saying if I were to push you back into your room and take those cute little shorts down I’m not gonna find a wet pussy underneath it?”

Your eyes narrowed at this. He really had some damn nerve. Shrugged you answered, “Maybe. Just because you turn me on doesn’t mean I’m yours.”

Chris bit his tongue. Eyes trailing up down your body. Had you been waiting for someone. Seemed like you were dressed for a dick appointment.

“Chris, what’re you doin’ here?” Preston’s voice could be heard behind him and he immediately thought about turning around to punch him in the face. Instead his eyes connected with yours in a snarl.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Chris asked.

“Preston, what are you doing here?” You asked at the same time.

“Wanted to see if you had the notes from chem,” he said, looking between the two of you. “Remember.”

“Oh,” you shook your head. “Yeah just let me grab ‘em.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. So if you weren’t dressed like this for him then who were you dressed like this for. He followed you into your room, glancing behind you as he came to sit on your bed. Damn sure wasn’t leaving now that he was here. Not after seeing Preston here.

You took him the notes and Chris could hear you exchanging thank you’s before closing the door. “Who the hell do you think you are?” You snapped at him.

“No who the hell do you think you are?” He repeated. “What were you hoping something would happen with Preston of all fucking people?”

“I didn’t say that!” You exploded. “Why am I even explaining anything to you. Weren’t not together. You have a girlfriend!”

“I broke up with her!” He finally admitted.

Chris couldn’t hold it in anymore. Had hated that the two of you hadn’t been talking as is and now there it was. All out on the table. Shit.

Your jaw hung open at his confession. Chest thumping. “W-what?” You asked, unsure if you misheard him.

“I broke up with Britt,” he repeated. “After our fight, I don’t know,” he looked away from you not able to handle the way you were looking at him with those big eyes, “I guess I realized you were right. That it wasn’t fair.”

Crossing your arms in front of your chest, sitting down beside him. Not that you knew what to say. Sure you’d thought about this moment a fuck ton of times, but never thought it would actually happen. Men like Chris didn’t actually leave their girlfriends for their side chicks. Or that’s what you’d been telling yourself to get over it.

“Just figured why the hell do I keep wasting time with her when I-,” he cut himself off trying to even figure out what he was trying to say. Those words on the tip of his tongue but it wasn’t easy. “Then I come here and you’re dressed like this and here comes Preston I-,”

“Chris, it… I didn’t know he was coming by,” you went on to say. “Not that you’d have any right to be mad anyway.”

That made him look at you, head snapping in your direction. “Watch it, Y/N,” he said. “Just because we were fighting doesn’t mean you weren’t mine.”

“We weren’t fighting I broke up with you,” you said.

“No,” he said. “Sure I gave you your space, but you did not break up with me. And I better not find out that you’ve been with anyone sense.”

You glared at him. Crossing your arms as you looked away. Only for him to put his hand under your chin to make you look back at him. “I’m not your property.”

“I didn’t call you property. I would never call you that. You are my woman, though. And I better never find out that anyone else got to have you.” He got closer to whisper into your ear. Fuck you were finally so close to him. At least you were only in your dorm wearing a skimpy little thing like this. Actually… “Whats with what you’re wearing anyway.”

“Not that it’s any of your business-,” you started to say only for him to drop his hand to your neck to give you a warning squeeze.

“Everything you do is my business,” he corrected.

You rolled your eyes. “My roommates out with her boyfriend so I decided to have a nice romantic night in with myself,” you finished.

Which in his head all he heard you say was that you had the whole place to yourselves. No Preston to interrupt. Not you running off to some little study buddy either. He didn’t give a shit about your nasty attitude. Could fuck you through that. Would have you acting sweeter than a peach after he fucked it out of you.

“Anything else you need to know, Warden,” you said, trying to sound all snooty. He’d had it up to here with you, though. Yanking you into him so you’d lay across his lap. “Hey!”

“I’d watch how you talk to me if I were you. Sure my frat brothers probably know how much of a slut you are, but you want your neighbors to know too?”

“We ca- Chris!” You gasped as he cupped your ass. Putting his thumb in between your ass cheek to really get a grip on it. Yeah he’d never go that long without touching you like this ever again. See why he couldn’t help get jealous. He was fucking crazy about you. All of you.

“What was that?” He taunted, hand coming up so he could deliver a sharp slap to the globe of your ass cheek. Gasping again and hips jumping up. “That’s what I thought,” he said when he realized you weren’t talking back for once. “Gonna watch your fucking mouth now, huh?”

You didn’t say anything. Just laid with your head against the mattress. Almost like you were trying to hide from him.

Chris laid a smack on your ass before groping you. “Let’s get it clear, Sweetheart. You’re mine. Your pussy is mine. Your body is mine. Even your fucking heart is mine.” He grabbed you by your hair to pull your head up so he could bring your face up to his. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Chris, I-,” you whimpered, a stray tear falling. Hated how turned on you were.

He’d cut you off by grabbing your ass again, sharply. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” He asked. Not giving a shit about what excuse you were ready to come up with.

You nodded, bottom lip trembling. Chris let out an irritated breath. All he wanted to do was love you right now. Kiss you. Show you how much he’d been missing you. Instead here you were playing little fucking games.

He put his hand against your jaw. Pulling you into his mouth. “What? You can’t speak?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “You gotta problem?”

You shook your head but Chris could hear you sniffle. Ah shit. Instead of keeping it going he pulled you up. Pulling you into his lap.

“I th-though-thought you-you didn’t wa-want m-me,” you were sobbing into his shoulder. Except he couldn’t exactly understand you.

He wrapped his arms around you. Rocking you back and forth. “Shhh, Baby. Its okay. I got you. I’m sorry.” He said anyway. Whispering into your ear. Squeezing you so you had to get as close as possible to him.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” you repeated, much more clear this time. Tears still streaming down your face.

Chris furrowed his brow. Hating those words as soon as they left your mouth. “Never, Baby. I just didn’t know what to do. Wanted to have my cake and eat it, too.”

“What about you and Britt?” You asked with a sniffle.

“We’re done, Baby. I promise. There’s no one else,” he whispered in your ear, kissing behind your earlobe. “I’m all yours.”

You nodded, pulling away as your lip trembled. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he replied leaning in to press a plump kiss to your lips. Only meaning for it to be quick except he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Had been too fucking long since he’d tasted you.

Chris laid back, taking you with him. Lips moving against each other. Fuck he missed this. Hands going to your ass to squeeze you. Needing to feel you all over. Can’t believe he went this long.

“Chris,” you moaned against his mouth. Fucking music to his ears. He turned you over in your bed so he was on top. Making sure to get nice and situated between your thighs.

Pinning your hands down with his as he felt himself getting harder. Needed you fucking bad. That’s why he couldn’t help himself when he came over here. Had been sick of waiting for you to come to him. If he needed to chase you so be is.

His bicep curled around your thigh. Not able to stop himself from finally fucking doing it. If anything it shouldn’t have taken him this long. Couldn’t help it with his stubborn ass.

“Chris,” you whimpered as his lips began to trail your neck. Back arching so you pressed into him deeper. Tits getting squished against his chest. As bad as he wanted to stay like this, he wanted more. Pulling away so he could take his shirt off.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, before kissing you quickly. “You missed me, huh.”

You nodded, throwing your arms around him. Nails trailing along his muscular back making him shiver underneath your touch. “You know I did.”

He licked his lips, kissing your again. “I missed you, too,” he confessed. Not like he hadn’t spent most of last week in denial about it. If he hadn’t seen you talking to that asshole would he have even finally got his shit together. Probably not. The jealousy had eaten him up.

Especially since he’d been trying to give Britt the time she asked for. Didn’t want to be a complete and total dick. Too bad he wanted his girl. So now he finally had you right where he wanted you. Underneath him. Ready for a taste when-

“Y/N, have you seen my-,” a voice interrupted the two of you. Making you pull away quickly as your roommate stopped when she saw. “Shit! Sorry!” She backed out, closing the door behind her.

You pushed against him so you could get up. Chris groaned, realizing how fucking hard he was. Had been ready to claim you all over again and now you were getting up to go after her to ask what she wanted. Definitely embarrassed by the shy look on your face when you came back. “She forgot her card,” you mumbled when you sat back down on the bed.

“Oh,” he replied. “That’s okay. You okay?”

“Yeah I’m okay,” you replied, biting your lip.

Chris smiled. Not being able to help himself when he scooted you on his lap. Kissing your cheek. “You hungry? Want to get some food or we could hang out somewhere. Something.”

“Like, you wanna hang out in public?” You asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. No more keeping this behind closed doors, okay?”

With that you nodded too, a smile spreading on your lips. “Just let me get ready.”

“Of course, Baby.”

——————————————————-

You could really tell Chris had been trying to put in the effort. From making it clear that he was definitely your boyfriend. To you practically living in his room. Still though aside from making out the two of you hadn’t had sex and he’d been dying to take it back to that.

Seemed like every time he got close, someone would interrupt or the two of you would end up talking. Which was great, but fuck he doesn’t think his dick can live like this anymore. It was like constant blue balls 24/7.

Sometimes you’d have your ass all pressed up against him while you slept. Wondering if you could feel him under you. Had been wearing a pair of panties underneath the shirt he let you borrow. Which had risen up so his cock could be pressed up right against your soft skin.

He doesn’t think he’d been this horny since he first hit puberty. Not like you’d be mad at him if he slid in. If anything he knew you’d take it. You always took it. Except then you got your period and while he didn’t give a shit, you did and told him you didn’t want your first time again to be like that.

At least he got to be with you in public now. Didn’t care who saw him hold your hand. Kissed you wherever he felt like, whenever he wanted. And you and your best friend seemed happy dragging him and her boyfriend everywhere. Even out to lunch where you were sitting way to close to him. Feeling all over his thigh.

“Unless you’re trying to start something, I suggest you stop,” he said, into your ear.

“Maybe I am,” you whispered back to him before kissing his cheek.

“Oh well, isn’t this cute,” a familiar voice interrupted you, making your heads snap up.

Chris groaned as soon as he saw his ex standing there glaring down at them. Three of her little minions beside her. “Britt,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Cut the shit, Christopher,” she snapped. “Look, I played nice when I knew you were fucking her behind my back-,”

You interrupted his ex with a cackle. Not able to help yourself. “Was it really behind your back?” You tilted your head to the side. “Not like you weren’t there.”

“Wait, what?” Your roommate gasped, suddenly everyone turning to look at her.

“Tell ‘em, Britt,” you said with a shrug. “About how you dared me to fuck your boyfriend and saw that I did it better than you and I fucked him so good he saw that he didn’t need to put up with your shit anymore.”

It had been clear you’d been waiting to get some things off your chest to her. Not that Chris could blame you. Britt had no business messing with you before and now look.

Britt’s jaw dropped as her friends turned to her. “You did what?” One of them asked with a raised eyebrow, almost like she wanted to laugh. The one Chris had been telling her was not her friend of all people.

Chris looked over at you. Shocked by your reaction. He knew you didn’t like Britt, but he’d never seen you like this. It was kind of hot seeing you stick up for yourself. Laying claim to him.

“Chris! You’re just gonna let her talk to me like that?” She gasped, stomping her foot.

“It’s not like she’s lying,” he replied. You sat beside him with a smirk. Leaning over to kiss behind his ear. Kind of enjoying you like this. That’s when he put his hand on your thigh , squeezing it.

Britt stomped away. Her friends not too far behind. Then he found himself trying to rush so the two of you could get the fuck out of there and back to his bedroom. Was tired of waiting and shit.

“Chris!” You squealed as he picked you up, pushing your back into the wall.

“Looked so fucking hot,” he said, making you gasp as his lips had went to your neck, must have been trying to leave you a hickey with the way he was sucking on your neck. “Need you so bad.”

“I didn’t tell you, but I got off my period this morning,” you said, biting your lip.

“You weren’t going to tell me?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Wanted to see how long you could go?”

Chris smacked your ass. Leaving his hands there so he could spread your ass cheeks apart. Ready to give it to you like he’d been missing. Sure he could have made your first time together again special and it would be, but the candles and rose petals would have to wait for another time.

“Don’t ever do that shit again,” he said into to it ear. “You hear me?”

You nodded before smashing your lips to his. Hands feeling all over his muscles in his shoulders. Not able to help yourself. Wanting to be close to him. Couldn’t believe he was finally all yours. Hadn’t even realized you were in his room until he laid you down in his bed.

“Missed you, Baby,” he said, flipping over so you could be on top of him. Straddling him around his waist as his hands went back to your ass.

“I missed you, too,” you whimpered, grinding against him. Needing to feel the friction. Pussy getting wetter as you spoke. “Please,” you preened.

“What do you want, Baby?” He asked, helping you remove your top.

“I want you. Want you so bad,” you moaned, as his lips went to your chest. Nipping and sucking and biting. Making you gasp for him as you lowered yourself so you were right over his dick. The friction making your jaw drop open as you didn’t stop. “Fuck, fuck me. Please.”

“I should make you beg for it since you made me wait this long,” he said, putting his thumb against your crotch. Ready to take off your pants. Putting you on your back once again so he could do that. “I don’t even know if you can handle it.”

Not like you didn’t agree. How the hell were you going to take him. It had been too long since you did and while you’d spent plenty of nights thinking about it, you were almost scared to try. Maybe that’s why you’d been welcoming every distraction. Don’t know if you were ready to be split open again.

Though, right now you’re not really sure you had much of a choice. Not with the hunger in his eyes. You’d denied him for far too long.

He started kissing down your body. Bringing your legs up so that he could get situated between your thighs. Knew he finally had you right where he wanted you.

“Chris,” you cried, hands going to your hair as he started licking you up. Wanted to get you properly wet first. Had to so you could take him properly. He knew as soon as he slid in there was no way he was holding back.

He peeked up at you, watching your face screw all up before throwing your head back. Moaning his name and moving your hips. Chris put his hands on your thighs, holding you down. Had you right where he wanted you and he wasn’t about to let you fuck that up.

“You’re gonna make me-,” you stopped with a gasp, “Christopher!” You breathed. “Shit, Chris. Fuck. Chris!” Eyes rolling back as it finally happened, juices cascaded into his mouth. “Ugh!”

Seeing you like this, fuck he couldn’t wait anymore. Needed to be inside of you now. As he kissed up your body, he hoped to leave a few hickies in his wake. Getting to your lips and making sure his kiss was deep.

Pushing your legs apart with his knees as he got situated between you. Pinning your hands down with his as he used his hips to guide his dick towards your entrance. “Fuck!” You gasped as he pushed the tip in. Head going back into the pillow underneath. A furrow creasing in your brow as you looked down between you.

Chris put his hand under your chin so you had to move your face back up. Eyes locked into each other. Licking your lips as your words had been caught in your throat as he went in deeper. Almost not even wanting to give you time to adjust, but this was your first time in a long time.

Unlike the real first time, it was just the two of you. Sure that’s how things had ended up anyway after Britt realized he’d never been like that with her. He’d wanted to feel bad about it, but hell it’s not like she hadn’t put him in that position in the first place. Literally. If she hadn’t been bugging you, you wouldn’t have ended up under him. Taking him in a way she never did.

Sure he tried to hold on for old times sake, but after he found out how she’d been it was hard for him to look past it. What did he look like dating a fucking bully. If anything he kind of owed you for all the shit you put up with. Not that you clearly had any problem with fighting back. Fuck that shit was so sexy.

Chris kissed your neck, listening to you moan as he thrusted his hips. Fuck you felt better than he remembered. Not like those same thoughts weren’t crossing your mind. Couldn’t believe you were like this after that time apart.

Had been so sure you could move on and you wanted to. Really did. Except he kept creeping into your head. Thinking about him like this. The way he fucked you like he owned your pussy and to be honest, he did. Even when you were broken up.

At this point everything between you had been an open secret in your frat. Hell, even when you tried to flirt with Preston he laughed and said he didn’t want to get punched for fucking around with you.

Didn’t even want to try being with someone else. How could you when you were pretty sure no other man could fuck you like this. He’d officially ruined you.

“Harder,” you whined into his ear, clawing at his back. Had been trying to be close to you, but fuck it. He missed you for a reason. The nice and tender shit was cute, but it had been too goddamn long.

Chris flipped you over to grab you by your hips. Making sure your ass was in the air right where he wanted it. You braced yourself as you felt him guide into you again. Squeezing your eyes shut as he bottomed out. Body trembling as you forced yourself to take his dick. “Fuck!” You sobbed into the sheets.

He rolled his hips just now he knew you liked. Exactly how he’d been thinking about. Looking down to see the way you’d started to cream around him.

Trying to give you exactly what you asked for. “You’re- you’re gonna- you’re- I’m gonna fucking cum, Chris!” You looked back at him. One of your hands going to your breasts as you played with your nipples. The extra stimulation making you clench around him.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he groaned, slapping your ass. “Fucking cum for me. I want everyone in the house to hear that we’re back together. Cum for me. Want you to scream my name.”

“Chris!” You sobbed just like he wanted you to, ass shaking as you did as you were told. There’s his fucking girl. Fuck he missed you.

Lowering yourself as it became harder for you to hold yourself up. Only for him to go with you. Covering your body with his as he didn’t stop rocking into you.

Coming up to wrap a bicep around your neck. His other arm wrapping around you. Couldn’t stop himself as he manhandled you.

“Feel so fucking good,” he whispered in your ear. Nose pressed up against the side of your face.

“Chris, I- ugh you’re gonna make me cum again!” You mewled. “Fuck I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered back, half wanting to stop to turn you over but not wanting to stop because he wanted to cum. He’s not really sure he had much of a choice anyway. Hips starting to stutter along.

You were just so fucking tight around him. Especially when you were ready to cum. “Fuuuuuuck, Baby,” he groaned. “Feel so fucking- you’re gonna make me- fuck!” He groaned as he did it. Unloading inside of you. Not giving a fuck about protection or anything. Not like he ever did.

Sure the two of you should be more careful, but he can’t bring himself to actually care too. Would it be the worst thing in the world if you were stuck with him? Not for him at least. You were his for the the rest of his life as far as he was concerned.

Chris didn’t move an inch to get off of you. Trying to not put all his weight on you, but at the same time he could melt. Can’t believe it’d taken him so long to get back here.

All while you clung to him. Almost like you were afraid he’d float away. As if he’d go anywhere. Chris didn’t even want to move a muscle until he rolled over so he could pull you into him.

“I love you, Baby,” he whispered, into your hair. Ready to fall asleep as you whispered back to him. Half asleep and drunk on love. Knowing the two of you were finally right where you were supposed to be. Together.

[lovebugism]

hi hi hi!! I love you work so much! I was wondering if I could request "secretly holding hands while standing beside each other at a bonfire" with eddie?? 🤍🤍

i had an idea and ran with it so it's a wee bit different from the original prompt, but i hope you like it! — you and eddie try to keep your relationship a secret at the senior class bonfire (secret relationship, cheerleader!reader fluff, 1.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Wearing your cheer uniform to the Hawkins High bonfire was a bad idea. Not ditching it to hang out with Eddie was worse.

You’re left constantly looking over your shoulder for him, eager to break away from the mindless conversations and find meaning in the autumn in the boy everyone called a freak. 

You think you’re being subtle about it until Tina Burton cuts herself off mid-sentence to ask, “What are you looking for?” She sounds annoyed with you, borderline offended ‘cause you aren’t hanging on every word she says.

She’s captain of the cheer squad, so you fluster like you’re being genuinely scolded. “Hm? Oh— nothing. It’s… It’s nothing,” you stammer and look down at your feet, toeing at the tall grass with your white sneakers.

She squints past you, unconvinced. “Okay…”

When she starts rambling again, you try hard to pay attention. None of the words make any sense, though. Your brain noise is too loud. It’s all just Eddie Eddie Eddie.

When a muffled heavy metal bass starts to blare in the distance, it feels almost like you’ve willed him.

This time when you glance over your shoulder, you see Eddie’s van swing haphazardly into a gravel parking spot. The music comes to a sudden halt when your boy hops out of the driver’s seat, bathed golden from the amber streetlights.

You’re grinning wide the second you see him, smiling harder than anyone ever has before. He catches you all but sparkling at the sight of him, and when he flashes you a crooked grin, you have to look away before you burst entirely.

Chrissy sees your smiling cheeks and the way you hold the expression between your teeth. She nudges you and teases, “What’s that look for, huh?”

You don’t have the words to answer her, so you just shake your head and try to hide the brightness of your beaming.

You glance back again, still trying to be lowkey about the whole thing, and find the rest of Eddie’s friends filing out of the back of his old van. He’s still looking at you, with a smile as wild as his frizzy curls.

He nods over to the empty woods in a silent plea to get you alone.

With a fluttering heart, you nod back at him. 

“I’m gonna, uh— I’m gonna get some more cocoa,” you announce suddenly, cutting Tina off mid-sentence and scurrying off before anyone can stop you.

You make sure no one’s looking when you duck past the drink table and head towards the blackened woods. You’re not as scared as you probably should be when you step through the tree line. You figure there’s not much of a reason to be — not when you know Eddie’s out here waiting for you, anyway.

The boy grabs you suddenly from behind. You squeal into the starry night, giggling while he laughs into your shoulder.

“Took you long enough,” you scold, shoving him with a playful hand when you turn around to face him. “I’ve been waiting on you for forever.”

Eddie shrugs with a lopsided grin. “I’m a rockstar, babe. I’m fashionably late— it’s my thing.”

“Right,” you monotone with the roll of your eyes.

You look too pretty not to kiss. Eddie leans down for a swift peck, then grows quickly drunk on the hot cocoa-peppermint chapstick mixture in your mouth. He ducks down again, this time for something more languid.

His plush mouth presses and lingers against yours, innocuous still. He tastes like nicotine and diner food. If domesticity had a taste, you think it’d taste just like this.

Eddie parts from you with a drunken hesitance, wearing your blush pink lipstick on his swollen mouth. Something primal swells in the pit of your stomach. It feels almost like you own him. 

His chocolate eyes squint at your mischievous grin. “…What?”

“You have my lipstick all over your mouth.”

It makes him smile, too. He feels more like he’s yours now that he’s got evidence of you. He’d wear you all over if he could. He doesn’t ever want to wipe it off.

“Metal,” he mumbles all boyish, with your rosy lipstick smeared along his mouth.

His crooked grin ebbs when he notices you shivering. His bushy brows pinch in concern. 

“You cold?”

You shrug and cross your arms over your chest, hugging yourself for warmth. “Yeah. I’m used to it, though. Normally, I’d wear tights under my skirt, but I figured I’d get too hot during the bonfire…”

You trail off when Eddie starts to shrug off his leather jacket.

“No, Eds.”

“What?”

“You’ll be cold!”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” you whine as his arms wrap around you to put the black cloth over your shoulders. It almost fully conceals your green and white cheer uniform.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Eddie chuckles. “Here, put your arms in.”

You listen but complain the entire time. “You’ll get sick, and you won’t be able to play at your shows, and the bar will be so boring without you.”

Eddie scoffs. If Corroded Coffin couldn’t play their Tuesday night shows, it would just be another Tuesday night at the Hideout. Nothing would change except their seven-to-nine slot being empty. He loves that you think so highly of him, though.

“Well, the only other option is you getting sick and Hawkins losing their best cheerleader. And what would Jason Carver do without you cheering on his mediocrity, huh?”

You roll your eyes with a grumbled “Shut up…”

He smiles again and leans in with the intention to kiss you stupid.  A tree limb cracks sharply in the distance before he can. The two of you stumble back from each other on instinct.

Jason Carver appears from the darkened woods, scarier than any psycho-killing maniac that could be roaming these woods at this very moment.

“Speak of the devil, and the devil appears,” Eddie lilts under his breath.

“Jason,” you sigh, breathless for a reason you can’t name. “What are you… What are you doing here?”

“Tina said she saw you walking into the woods… I wanted to make sure you were alright,” the blonde boy answers with a squint to his stone-blue eyes. His gaze darts between you and Eddie, like he’s trying to make sense of the two of you.

The wild-haired boy scoffs and rolls his eyes. How fucking chivalrous, he thinks bitterly to himself.

“Is this freak bothering you?” Jason asks you, a sense of protectiveness coating his words.

He says it like you’re not wearing Eddie’s jacket. Like Eddie’s not wearing your pink lipstick on his mouth.

Still, you smile kindly and shake your head. “Nope. I’m okay.”

“Yeah,” the brunette boy shrugs with a crooked grin. “We’re just talkin’, Carver.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, freak,” Jason bites back.

“We’re fine,” you intervene, voice wavering in fear of the situation becoming bigger than you can handle. “I’ll be back in a flash. I promise.”

Jason’s eyes narrow one last time at Eddie before he ultimately decides to leave.

You let out a shaking sigh when he’s gone.

Eddie laughs. “What a fucking idiot…”

Jason’s got so much muscle in his arms that there’s nothing left for his brain. He still thinks he’s hot shit — star quarterback, free ride to a fancy school — why should the prettiest cheerleader in school be off limits? He still thinks he has a shot with you, no idea that you’re already Eddie’s.

“We should go back out there,” you announce when it gets too quiet. “If Tina’s talking, she’s already gonna give me shit for disappearing.”

“Do you wanna go first, or should I?” Eddie asks. It’s muscle memory at this point. The scheming, the hiding — it’s all the two of you have ever known.

Still, you shift your weight on your feet. Your hands wring together as you draw mindless shapes in the dirt with your sneakers. “I don’t know…” you murmur with a shrug. “We could go together, maybe?”

“Together?”

“Yeah. I mean, we don’t have to, but it beats Jason always intervening when we’re together ‘cause he thinks you’re kidnapping me or something.” 

The laugh you let out is halfway forced. You find yourself so suddenly fearful of rejection. Maybe Eddie doesn’t want to be public with you. Maybe he’s hiding because he doesn’t want people to know he likes you.

The boy melts. His features soften as he nears you, wide palms rubbing at your arms in a feeble attempt to keep you warm. “Are you sure you wanna do that, babe?” he wonders with a trembling laugh. “If people know about us— it’ll, like, fuckin’ destroy your rep.”

“I don’t have a rep.”

Eddie’s brows raise. His dark eyes sparkle expectantly.

You’re on your way to being prom queen — with Jason fucking Carver right beside you as king. Everyone knows it. And you know it, too, so you concede with a sigh.

“Well, I care more about you than some stupid reputation, okay? I deserve to spend time with my boyfriend without having to worry about what everyone else is thinking.”

Eddie grins. His heart swells with so much warmth he’s slightly fearful it might burst. He’s never felt prouder of you — prouder to love you. Despite feeling distantly undeserving of your adoration, he nods in response.

“Alright, then… Let’s go break some fucking necks.”

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 16

wordcount: 8,613

(Yeah, don't listen to me when I say I'll update soon; I'm a giant fuckin liar. Srry oops ♡)

   It was the next evening in Woodsboro. Barely a day after the tragedy that hit this town once again for the first time since the 90's. Dewey had to make a press statement as Sheriff and or the one in charge of the case. In a 24 hour period, on top of the killings that already took place, he had to state the victim's of this senseless brutality. 6 victims dead in the last 24 hours, 1 suspect dead and multiple injured…And 3 suspects missing.

After stating the victims names outside the hospital…He warily looked up a few times in case of…Well. In case of freaking falling corpses like what happened with YN's publicists a few short days ago. He then gave the conclusion of his speech to wrap up this chaos that seemed to never end. Anxiety biting at him. Feeling like a young boy displaying a D minus grade card in front of the whole class…

He subtly licked his lips a bit and swallowed hard as he tried to think. His mouth was incredibly dry all the sudden as he tried to force out what needed to be said to make his town feel reassured.

 “...Citizen's of Woodsboro...This was a senseless and awful tragedy. The threat is under control-”

The press yelled out mid sentence, “Sheriff Riley! But it took how many lives to get it under control? Why didn't the police act sooner?” 

Dewey fumbled, a tight expression on his face as he spoke into the mic, “Our deputies tried tirelessly and it took us longer than we expected. It's not easy trying to find someone in a mask-” 

“Why was a party allowed last night where one person was found dead?” Someone else demanded.

“He was…The victim was killed after and we…We didn't know of the party or we'd shut it down! Obviously just-” He stammered and tried to calm himself. 

Dewey was still reeling. Anytime he thought of that party; he'd forever see the dead lifeless eyes of Randy's corpse. He spaced out a moment with all the questions, all the accusations. Judy and a few others looked at him to give an answer to the overbearing crowd. 

He rolled his teeth over his bottom lip and decided to just cut the crap and say what he needed. Because this was too much. It was all too damn much. He didn't even get the courtesy of mourning Randy's death and YN's betrayal without being strong for the entire World.

He spoke up again. Ignoring the questions to cut to the chase.

“Young kids with their entire lives ahead of them died this week. Good hardworking men just trying to provide for their families. Just trying to make a life for themselves and their loved ones. All 3 very good friends of mine.” A hushed whisper sounded in the microphone as Dewey's face scrunched thinking of his two detectives and Randy. “A woman that…” He faltered, gazing at the hospital behind him and gestured with his hand. “...Whose body was thrown onto a news van right here.” 

His voice caught a bit of tense anger as he pointed his finger at the podium while speaking. “Even my own wife, Gale Riley formerly Gale Weathers, was stabbed in the shoulder last night. All of this…It…” He got tongue tied once more before taking a deep breath. A fine line between showing strength and being pitiful he had a hard time treading right now. 

All eyes on him as he could feel the heat from the lights and see his reflection in cameras. 

He looked at the crowd to let it sink in with a pause to catch his bearings. Only the mic ringing from being too close to it, sounded along with cameras clicking.

 “...As your Sheriff, I took this job under oath to make sure that 1996 never happened in this town again. It may have happened at Windsor College in Ohio or in Hollywood but not here in our quiet and peacefully small California town.” He paused, gazing at the crowd. Tired. Dark downset eyes cast heavily at all the microphones and lights. At the cameras recording his every move. His every failure. All he ever wanted was to protect the innocent and in his eyes he failed miserably.

He took a breath and took off his hat. “Which is why… I'm resigning as Sheriff. I take full responsibility for my department's failure in stopping this before it became too late. That's not on my deputies but on me. Their lives are on my hands and I can't express enough remorse.” 

Chatter erupted as so many reporters badgered to ask questions. Judy's jaw dropped. Her standing by having recovered from her vest protecting her this morning. She looked flabbergasted at his resignation as well as a few other deputies.  

He descended off the small makeshift stage near the podium. 

So many voices. A man yelling, “Sheriff Riley! Why are you resigning? Do you think your actions killed those kids?” 

“Because it's time for someone else to take over. Someone new.” Was all Dewey gave as he tried to make his way to the hospital doors. 

“Sheriff Riley! Sheriff! Can you give out the name's of the suspects and give a final statement on their identities? Are they apprehended or deceased?” A female reporter pressed as he got

“Not at this time we can't make a statement. But they are under control.” He tried shoving past as Judy and a few others forced the vulture media back. 

He heard a woman ask, “Where's YN!? Sheriff Riley, is YN alive?” 

He froze at the door…

Of course they'd ask. YN was an American icon. You couldn't see the mask without the survivor who seemed to be attacked every time. Her name is always gracing the headlines. Her book on survival was a New York Times Best Seller last year. Of course, with everyone else accounted for, they were dying to know where the IT girl was? Where was the final girl? Where was YN? 

And Dewey couldn't answer. Not right now, as he shoved through the hospital doors while Judy and a few other deputies held the media back. All before Judy ran after the man she worshiped once fully inside.

“Sheriff!” She called out, her feet thudding in the quiet hospital hallway. “Sheriff, wait-” 

Dewey stopped and turned to give her a sad smile, holding his hat in his hands. “It's just Dewey now, Deputy.”

He felt like a kicked puppy. A small child. A weak man. Standing there forcing a smile while his chest ached and he rang his hat in his hands. 

Judy spiraled. Big eyes buggier in appearance and mouth open trying to find excuses.

 “This wasn't your fault! If Gal- Mrs. Riley, had followed police protocol an-and Mr. Meeks and Miss YN would have had more faith in you and-” She rushed out in a stammer. Trying to reason with him. But his mind was made up.

“Listen…” He softly gave. His dark eyes softened as well matching his tone. “It is. Randy and…They were right. Gale was right. There were so many mistakes I made that could've saved a lot more people had I not been so darn eager to follow the books.” 

“The books are in place for a reason. They save lives.” She furiously shook her head, thin blonde brows scrunched in distress. “You can't resign! You can't; Woodsboro needs you. We need you…I need you.” 

“No.” Dewey sighed and kept that smile of resignation. “No. You don't Judy. You're one of the best officers I've had the pleasure of working with. In fact, it won't shock me if you become Sheriff one day.” 

“Sheriff…” She looked touched. “But Sheriff Riley-” 

“Ah, it's Dewey please.” He corrected her with a warm oblivious smile.

“Dewey…” She said his name with sincere fondness. Inching closer as her small stature looked up at him. “I…You were, are, the best Sheriff. The best boss. A good friend and…I can't help feeling…Well more…” 

“...More?” Dewey raised a brow. “Like family?”

“No like…Like you deserve better.” She got even closer. “Like, if you and I are apart I'd feel like the world isn't right. I care about you…I just wish Gale and others treated you the way you deserve.” She whispered just getting closer standing on her toes.

“Well, I care about you too, Judy. You're a very good friend.” He gave in a much more casual tone than she did. 

He just thought she was a bright eyed young woman looking for a big brother figure. He always thought Gale was overreacting when she got jealous. 

"Wes is…Wes admires you. He loves when you drive him around in the police car sometimes.” 

Dewey smirked, “Yeah, he's a good boy. Gonna be just like his Mom one day.” 

“But what if he could have someone more…Masculine to look up to? A man around the house. A father figure.” 

Dewey looked confused where she was going but mumbled, “Well, that would be a good idea. A boy needs his Dad and all... Well, or a Dad.” 

“Exactly…” She gazed at him in a way that it seemed his brain was finally clicking wasn't appropriate. “And what if…” She softened her voice. “That father figure could be someone he already knows?” 

She leaned up, her lips going in as Dewey looked down with a confused look.

 For the first time he was taken aback at her display. “Deputy Judy?” He gasped out and stepped away out of reflex.

“Dewey!” 

Gale's voice rang out down the hall. Judy stepped back with a blush and Dewey instinctively took 2 more steps away just to be safe. 

“Gale! What are you doing?” Dewey cleared his throat and quickly asked. “You should be in bed.” He commented seeing his injured wife in fashionable attire and heels instead of a hospital gown with her injured shoulder. 

“I'm free to go. Even if I'm not, I'm not staying in a hospital just laying in bed for a shoulder wound. I can do that at home.” She waved him off.

Gale gave an annoyed look at Judy as Judy's flushed face soured at the other female. Gale raised a brow and demanded, “You mind giving me space with my husband, Deputy.” More rhetorical than an actual question.

Judy scowled before looking at Dewey, “Take care, Dewey. I'll make sure everything is in order.” 

Judy marched off and Gale raised a brow, “The hell was that?” 

“N-Nothing.” Dewey mumbled with his eyes downcast; unsure how to tell his wife he was no longer Sheriff.  Judy's odd attempt was the least of his concerns. 

“Whatever.” Gale mumbled and urgently tried to tell her husband, “Look, I just got off the phone with Karla. She said she talked to YN, so if you just track-” 

“...Gale.” Dewey tried saying but as she kept talking he sighed and subtly rolled his tense shoulders.

She continued, “- And if we get to actually talk to YN, we can find out just how involved she was and get to ‘you know who’. Both of them. I can also prove to you that-” 

“Gale.” He interrupted his wife. “I'm not Sheriff. This isn't my problem anymore.” 

…

At first Gale took it as a joke. Her head reeling back with that bewildered smirk before it slowly fell. “What?...Dewey, what? Whaddya mean you're not Sheriff!?” 

“Shh!” Dewey gently took her arm to go towards her room that she technically was not discharged from yet for some much needed privacy. Just a few doors away down the hall.

“Answer me, Dewey! You resigned? What the hell for?” She demanded not even all the way in the room yet.

“Because I failed, Gale.” He firmly replied. “I failed. I failed you, I failed Randy, I failed YN-” 

Gale rolled her eyes, “YN failed us.” 

Dewey didn't even argue with that. Eyes downcast with a deep frown. 

And for a hot minute. Dewey tried not to be too emotional near her today but he knew that his wife knew how much your betrayal killed him. In fact, this morning he went and sobbed violently in his police cruiser after staring numbly at the parking lot. Crying as much as he did when Tatum died. In a way, losing you was like losing another sister. He wasn't as close to you as Tatum, God no. Of course not. He didn't help raise you like he did her but damn…Did it still hurt.

She sighed, trying to find patience.

“...Dewey. I just think you're jumping the gun.” She looked about and gave a hissed whisper, “For fucksake. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are alive and free. YN knew they were and is with them somewhere. Even if she isn't helping them, then she's in danger. This is not the time to hang up the badge!” 

“Well it is for me.” He walked away from her to stand near the bed. “...I can't do it, Gale. It's gonna be hard to face anyone. To face Karla and Mindy and Chad and my Detective and Deputies family's…Jill.” 

“Pfft.” Gale blew air past her lips with an eye roll. 

Dewey raised his head, confused and offended. “What?” 

“...Doesn't make sense.” 

 “I know but we'll catch them. I shouldn't have let them go. I failed-” 

“No, damn it!... Jill.” Gale lowered her voice.

Dewey looked bewildered, “What about Jill?” 

Gale looked about, then whispered. “Let's just say, I don't think YN is telling the full story and neither is Jill Roberts.”

“Excuse me??” Dewey looked at his wife like she was crazy! Sweet Jill? What could she possibly be hiding? 

“She's lying, Dewey.” She reaffirmed. “They're both lying about different things…But just because YN was lying her ass off does not mean she was lying about Jill. Broken clock is right twice a day and all that.”

“Oh Gale! Are you seriously after another scoop? What? Like YN all over again. Going after a girl so much younger-” 

“And I was right about YN, wasn't I?!” Gale sauntered towards him angrily, “I have been in this line of work longer than you've been on the force, I was doing this when you were hitting puberty, and I can smell bullshit a mile away…Jill is a fucking liar.”

Dewey stuttered with an outraged glare, “That's!-... It's...Prove it, then. What makes you think Jill who was never even on Randy's suspect list could do something so awful.” He folded his arms raising a brow to try and look smug and sure of himself but it wasn't working very well.

She pointed to her phone in her notes app. “Times are not adding up, Dewey. How convenient Jill went to Kirby's when her Mom was murdered.” 

 “I can't believe you right now, that-” 

She glared at him with those icy blue eyes a foot from him. “Listen to me, damn it.” She practically growled through gritted teeth. “Jill called Kirby less than an hour before Kirby left her house; right? Kirby goes to the party for roughly 2 hours before Randy gets killed and the party is over. Jill is supposed to be grounded. She goes to Kirby's while Mrs. Roberts is murdered in front of Judy AFTER Perkins and Hoss are killed.” 

Dewey's expression soured at the thought. “Yeah, after Judy drops off YN, confiscates her gun and YN drove off during Mrs. Roberts murder…Guilt and evading probably. Especially if her buddies did it and…Randy.” He couldn't say their names without raging. Just couldn't.

Gale snapped her fingers. “Hey, you're not focusing on the right thing.” She pointed to her screen, “Look at the time frame…Where the fuck was Jill?” 

“She went to Kirby's.” 

“... When? Because if the timeline matches up; Kirby was still at the party when Perkins and Hoss were murdered. According to Jill; Kirby opened the door for her…Now, how the fuck is that possible unless Jill was at the house way sooner than she claims?” 

“A key?” 

Gale gave her husband a look, “Then that mean she's lyyyiinnggg.” She mocked with a ‘duh' expression. She urgently continued, “Kirby could not have opened the door for her AND her avoid the murders unless she was there for a long time. Mrs. Robert's acted like Jill was in her room…So how do we know she wasn't still at home? Now, if she was hiding from the killer, Judy and back up would've found her. She would've ran to them for help. She wouldn't have casually went to her fucking friends house near midnight after cops were killed and there was no way she could've drove by and not seen Perkins body…Unless…She was hiding from cops and fleeing the scene after she slit her own Mother's throat.” 

“Jesus Christ, Gale!” Dewey scoffed and paced the room, “That's insane! Do you even hear yourself? Are you…Are you suggesting Jill did this? Not Billy and Stu or Charlie but Jill?? That she killed her own mother!?” 

“Be quieter, would you?...Why not?” Gale demanded. She lowered her voice, almost pleading with him. “Dewey, you know as well as I do we both don't trust YN after last night. Okay? No shit. We don't. But YN's times add up against the killer unless she really was working with those guys…Okay, give you that. Or they did recruit Charlie. Fine, got it…But eyewitnesses saw Jill and Charlie getting hot and heavy near a park while she was supposed to be on again and off again with Trevor.” 

“How do you even know that?? And that's a breach of privacy on a teen girl's romantic life!” 

Gale shrugged the best she could with one shoulder, “I have my sources. It's teens; they talk. Besides, there is no privacy when you could be making out with a murderer…Charlie seemed to have a giant crush on Kirby but how convenient Trevor, Jill's ex, got by far the worst end of the shitty stick.” 

He grimaced, “...Like James in 1996.” 

“Uh huh.” Gale agreed. “We get it. They were recreating kills. But…Why James? Jealousy? From who? Charlie?...Jill? Why was Trevor assigned James' role? All roles add up so why him?” 

Dewey raised a brow. “To…Well…He was Jill's boyfriend? But…” 

“Yeah. Jill was the survivor…How would they know that?” 

Dewey stared. 

“Not only did Jill hold animosity towards him for cheating according to everyone but one of the girls first killed was supposedly his fling…And most of all…The implication."

"Implication?"

Gale grinned in excitement at him, "Jill was always meant to be YN! Not Kirby or YN herself. Jill. Jill survived because she was planning to fucking survive! Why the flying fucking Hell would she be spared by Billy and Stu?” 

“But she was barely conscious when we arrived on scene!” Dewey's head was spinning but he just couldn't quite believe what his wife was suggesting. It was diabolical! “S-she wasn't. They tried to kill her here in the hospital…” He quietly mumbled. His brain went in a direction he didn't like.

Gale ranted, “All their friend group, and somehow, in a house with two known murderers Jill got the least amount of damage other than YN and Kirby. We can't even count that because they got life threatening injuries while Jill and I got stabbed in the shoulder and roughed up…Why? To keep me alive to write a story and her too. Jill got banged up but nothing serious. Nothing that would kill her.” 

“But!...I-” He went to talk but faltered.

“Charlie got stabbed only one time directly in the chest. In a relaxed position to stab his heart. People fighting don't get stabbed like that! Dewey, you're an officer, you know that in order for Charlie to get that stab wound he had to be relaxed. Like…It was planned and either he let them stab him or he was betrayed and relaxed.”

Dewey opened and closed his mouth. Damn, he knew his wife got to the pit of a story but lord this was…

”Gale, then…Then that just means Billy and Stu betrayed their protégé! Right?...Right!?” He desperately pleaded, not wanting to go where Gale's mind was heading because it felt so far fetched to him.

Gale gnawed at her lip. She walked about the room a moment before lowering her voice and mumbling out. “I know it sounds insane but think about it. YN and those two assholes got just about hacked up yet they were the murderers? No fucking way knowing what we know; how did Jill fight off 3 people as a victim? 2 grown men and a grown woman with self defense training. If Jill was unarmed; How? How does a 5'2 teen girl with no weapon fight 2 grown men that were trying to kill her and they supposedly had knives and a gun?…There's no goddamn way, Dewey!” Gale smacked her phone on the bed getting riled up just talking about this.

Dewey swallowed and couldn't exactly come up with an argument.

Gale just paced the room, her heels clacking as she continued. “YN was miraculous enough to keep surviving these attacks over the years UNLESS…” Her face lit up in realization. “Son of a bitch…Unless she had help all these years. Oh my fucking God. I knew it! James and Tim. They don't fucking exist, they're just aliases for Billy and Stu. Windsor I saw them and fucking knew it, god damn it, I did! I bet they were in Hollywood too. It's how she survived two huge men attacking her.” Gale ranted in harsh whispers; almost elated as her brain was piecing things together perfectly to her.

Dewey had the picture of YN and them. Men that were strangers but now he realized was evidence of Billy and Stu. A lie he kept from his wife he didn't dare share now. He ran a hand over his face…It was too much. It was all speculation. It was…It was crazy! YN and Billy and Stu were what?? The victims? And Jill killed her own mother?! 

He replayed it…Billy and Stu not being the murderers this time. You lying is a misunderstanding for hiding them. Charlie and Jill being the real killers…Jill. Killing all her friends. Her own mother. Trying to kill YN alone it just-

“...No.” 

Gale scoffed with a sneer, “No??” 

“No. There's no way! No way Jill is in any way involved.” 

 “Are you joking?” Gale put her hand of her good arm on her hip, wincing when she moved. “Okay, but why would Jill know where I was stabbed when we hadn't seen each other or talked?...How Dewey? Explain that.” 

Dewey shook his head at the idea that the sweet teen girl he already felt protective over could do this instead of two known murderers. And YN, who he couldn't trust now. Gale just looked more irritated at his dismissal as she continued.

“Why the fuck was she visiting YN at 4:32 in the morning in fucking ICU, Dewey!? Seriously. They aren't that close and Jill was supposed to be just so weak and heavily injured. Get a goddamn grip!” 

“So what?” He threw his hands out. “You're defending YN now after all these years of damning her? All these years of being so-so…So…Hateful to her and now you're changing your tune?!” He spoke a bit louder than necessary and stammered his accusations.

Gale argued with a haughty look. “No…Maybe!” She released a frustrated groan. “I damned her for lying, which I was right, but I am a facts and getting the truth out sort of journalist before anything else and Jill's story has so many holes it's like a screen door! YN was yelling at us, begging us this morning to listen to her side-” 

“And why should we!?” Dewey uncharacteristically lost his temper as Gale blinked in surprise. “She lied to us, Gale! She lied for over a decade! Made you look like a bad journalist, knew my sister's murderers were alive, defended them last night!” He was overstimulated, heartbroken, stressed, bombarded with too much information.

Gale rubbed her temple as a tense silence fell over the couple in the empty hospital room. She sucked air through her nose and told him. “Look…I am not team YN right now either. She lied, I was right. As usual…But that's even more of a reason to listen to me when I say Jill is not normal and we need to wrangle YN in for questioning and capture Billy and Stu in the process. Something is beyond off about her and her phony sweet American pie bullshit act.” 

“You're being so…You!” He exclaimed.

“And what the hell does that mean?” 

Dewey paced and the tension just gave way. “You! You always do this. You care more about your career and the next big revolutionary story to put your name in lights than you do people's privacy and feelings. YN, no matter what, made her damn choice and frankly I don't want to arrest her. I don't because I still care about her even though I never want to see her again! That's my weakness, my EMPATHY, something you don't have!” 

Gale reeled back a moment. Blinking in shock at her husband's harsh words. 

Dewey gripped his hair, his mental state just about having had enough the last few days as he didn't care about his volume. “I can't do this anymore! It's why I'm resigning this coming week. I want those two in prison but I am not hunting them down for the rest of my life. Whatever happens to YN? She dug her own grave with them and it HURTS! I can't make these decisions anymore! I can't. It's why I'm done chasing after masked killers and trying to do the right thing because it's tiring trying to be good but apparently not for you because you're eager to hound a 17 year old girl that lost everything and question if she killed her own mother and friends like a heartless person!” 

…

After his fit…A tense silence fell over them. Gale eyed him with mistrustful eyes. Dewey didn't mean to lash out. In fact, his heart ached just seeing the hurt look in Gale's eyes before her usual iron wall came up as a disguise to protect herself.

“Gale, honey I-” 

“Don't.” She gave in a firm gravely tone. She grabbed her phone and purse he had brought her from her car last night before surgery. He wanted to take her bag, to chastise her for possibly hurting herself with her shoulder but one icy glare from her and he shrank into himself.

She stopped short of the hospital room door to tell him. “I may have my habits but so do you. You did it 15 years ago with YN and now that YN is gone; you're doing it again with this girl because you have to have someone to shelter from the guilt of not saving your sister…You are a good man, Dewey! An amazing man. Too good of one that you can't see when someone is clearly lying. All because of this fucked up misplaced guilt for Tatum and trusting people.” 

Dewey stiffened. Not sure if he should be taken aback, angry or hurt at that statement. Gale was like this. She went for the jugular when hurt but that didn't make it okay in his eyes to bring up Tatum.

She was almost out the door but turned back to add one more thing. “And by the way!…The killer recorded everything; so check the harddrive on the new final girls fucking phone and see how innocent she is!” 

Gale released an annoyed growl in her throat like a frustrated groan as she slammed the door and walked out. 

Dewey stood there a moment…A tense moment that he sighed, then paced, then quickly wiped tears away with his sleeve and a sniff as they threatened to spring up. He hadn't even slept the last 24 hours and he was overwhelmed. Of all the times he needed his wife, it was now, and…He didn't know if he just scared her away or she was just that honed in on this case. He should be too. But he felt so damn…Weak. Powerless. Helpless.

“...The Barney Fife of Woodsboro.” He bitterly mumbled to himself. Gale's old words hurt him deeper than she knew. And she never truly apologized or truly ever told him he was good at his job. She praised his character but rarely his job as a cop only when she had to to make amends. Maybe…Because he wasn't?

He sighed heavily, a pang of heartache in his chest at having no one really. His parents were too old to put this on them, Tatum was gone, Sidney was gone, Randy was gone…Now you were gone with the people that did this. He refused to believe they didn't after 1996. And now his wife might as well be gone right now too and Judy was…Not the person to turn to after what she just tried in the hallway.

Dewey decided to visit the one person left even if they were now lingering in his mind as a falsehood.

Jill had to go into surgery again to examine and to stitch up the stab wound in her abdomen and back. To think…Billy Loomis did that. Billy Loomis. 

Dewey should be happy. His wife lived and was healing even if they just argued; at least he could argue with her. Jill lived to tell her tale. Instead, he hadn't felt this low in 15 long years. Not since Fall of 1996…

He headed to Jill's room. Hanging his head as he slowly entered the room. Making sure he looked presentable. He gazed at her and it made a pang of hurt form in his chest and disbelief in his mind…YN…YN, the girl he protected. YN, the woman he saw like a sister. YN the girl who lived…Tried to kill the innocent teenage girl with the help of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher…

He didn't care what Gale said. All this time, you lied. You lied and hid them. The guys that murdered his younger sister and her best friend and all those years Dewey and Randy both said ‘No! No no no, YN would never do that!’. Him and Gale even broke up over her and you twice, once in 1997 then again when Gale went Court back in the 2000's and how hateful she had been towards you. A girl barely a woman with the whole world out to get her. 

To think Gale was right all along. YN was a snake. All Dewey did was cry or go numb over this…And the idea you might have killed Randy or helped? You helped Billy and Stu kill Randy? It made him sick. Sick to his stomach; sick with himself for letting you and those two monsters get away. 

Gale's rant kept replaying in his head…What if…What if YN and those two were innocent this time? But that was insane. 

“Hey Dewey.” Jill gave in her usual sweet disposition. It made him feel guilt. “So…Any news of catching them?” She pleasantly asked so innocently.

He shook his head, “Sorry Jill. Not yet.” He sat in a chair next to her hospital bed and took off his hat with a heavy sigh. “I am…So so sorry. I failed, I-” 

Jill gave a forced sad smile. Shaking her head she softly said, “Don't. You didn't know. I mean, who would ever think of my cousin's best friend. I mean, Billy and Stu and recruiting a guy like Charlie. Do you think YN was forced? Like, I don't know, Blackmailed? Like, if she didn't do this; they'd kill her or more people she cared about?” 

Dewey looked up at the 17 year old. A glimmer of hope in his brown eyes as he tried and failed to hide how vulnerable he was right now. “I…I don't know.” He stared and thought. “Do you think so?” 

It wouldn't excuse anything but it was better than you willfully killing Randy and those kids. 

Jill smiled real big then quickly covered her mouth to hide it. 

“Maybe?” Jill shrugged. “I know she attacked me when I went to visit her but Billy REALLY attacked me. Maybe she thought I was them?” She pouted and showed her stitches under her gown. “I just want to find her and talk to her and know why? Why would she do this? If she was forced; we can help her.” 

Dewey looked hopeful and for the first time in 24 hours had a small smile. He stood and patted Jill's knee. “You're a good kid. Just get some rest okay? Leave all these questions to us. Need anything?” 

She smiled and shook her head. “No, not at all. I'm just sorry I tried to grab your gun-” She fidgeted with her blanket and grimaced in that sweet voice. “I just, wasn't feeling myself and was so upset my friends' murderers might get away.” Her eyebrows went up and she looked gutted but no tears in her eyes. Such a strong kid.

“Oh Jill.” He shook his head. “It's alright. I even thought…Well…Who can prepare for something like that? And I have almost 20 years of police training under my belt.” He went to shut her door. “You're forgiven, just get some rest.” 

She smiled as he shut her door and it just left a whirlwind of emotions in him. A part of him wanted to find you if you did in fact do all this against your will. If you were brainwashed or they had something on you that if they died someone you cared for got hurt…But if you actually did this on your own; he didn't want to find you. It hurts entirely too much even if justice should prevail.

He saw a huge grin on Jill's face in a reflection on the door…She must just be happy he stopped by.

——————————————

Later that night, Somewhere in California away from Woodsboro. You stood on a murderers porch in the dark hanging your head over the railing.

Fuck. Everything.

You were sore, physically drained, mentally drained. And you talking to Billy made everything worse.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your face. It had been such a long day, why the hell did you get on this subject? Yeah, it felt major. Billy Loomis told you you were his and comforted you while holding your hand after being stabbed. All while he came back to rescue you AND the letter that has been eating a hole in your pocket for days now. Pretty unavoidable unsaid context here…But this felt like the worst timing by his reaction alone.

You sighed again and tried to untense your shoulders before heading back inside. Still had a dried-blood, icky hospital gown on and a jacket. You were cold, tired, thinking maybe the pill was wearing off with how sore you felt. Your joints were so stiff and skin so bruised you felt like every step was an 80 year old woman not one at 32. You just wanted to go back to sleep on Billy's frumpy couch in some comfy clothes. Maybe the recliner with tape on the arm would be better? You were tempted to nap with Stu but he was acting…Odd. And if he touched you, you were in no position to fight him off right now.

With a heavy heart and head; you dragged yourself back inside. Not eager to be near either of these men at this point. Billy pretty much tore what teeny tiny sliver of hope you had in your heart for him even if it felt stupid to begin with and Stu was not acting right in the head. But what choice did you have? Can't go to Woodsboro, and in case the cops were hunting you, you couldn't go to a family member's house or your cabin either.

You walked in. Shut and lock the door. Shrugged off your jacket with a grunt to lay it with Billy's other jackets on an old rickety chair. Billy was nowhere to be found and Stu was sleeping last you heard.

You went to sit in the recliner for just a moment.  Every movement made you fatigued. Easing in with a grimace as you white knuckled the arm of the chair in your grip. God, everything hurts! It probably would for a while. You were still leery of the fact Jill could've punctured an organ or opened a stitch in your fight especially since you had only eaten a tiny bit and didn't have a bowel movement yet…You were fearful of the pain of that potentially or what to do if you did need to go to the hospital.

You eased back and tried to relax in the armchair. Closing your eyes for just a second before feeling someone near you…

…Your brow twitched at that uncanny feeling of eyes on you…

You opened them and in a flash Stu smacked his hands on either side of the arms of the chair. Essentially trapping you there as you gasped loudly. Nearly jolting in fear at the surprise.

“Stu, what the hell are you doing-”

“I know.” Was all he gave with a dark look in his blue eyes. A predatory look that reminded you way too much of that raining night at your house or him at that party at Windsor or even him holding your own gun at that motel.

“Know…What?” You whispered as you started feeling anxiety grip you. Easing back into the chair as he got closer, inches from your face.

“Don't play dumb, Sweetcheeks.” He smiled a humorless grin. “I heard everything you had to say to him on that porch just now…You two holding hands and you calling out to him, you and him bonding over your little book which I'm sure his character had a bigger role than my character if my character was even in it. The letter…Where's the letter, babe? I wanna read it.” 

“Stu, just…Let me up” You swallowed.

He gave with that dangerous smile, a dark expression as his voice dropped an octave and he got closer to you. “I really wanna read it.” 

“B-” Your voice caught in your throat out of fear and you yelled for the only other hope you had. “Billy!!” 

“That's right, call for Billy. Billy to the fucking rescue. Billy the guy always picked first! Billy the man!” Stu lost his temper and shoved a bunch of shit off an end table and you couldn't help the wince and gasp before you tried to get up and get away and he stopped you. “Uh uh! You aren't going anywhere!” 

You stared up at him with big eyes, “Stu…Just calm down. Let me go.” 

“Oh yeah, tell me to calm down. Tell me, baby. That always works.” He giggled out with a lopsided evil little grin.

“Stu, please-” 

He smacked the chairs arms, “HOW LONG!?” His emotions are absolutely random and chaotic. The jealous rage in Stu was nothing to be trifled with. You didn't owe him anything but you knew in his mind you did. 

“Stu, I don't know what you think but me and Billy are not in some secret relationship or hiding anything-” 

“BULLSHIT!” 

“WE AREN'T!” You frantically yelled back pinned against that chair before. “Stu, you're scaring me. Please.” 

He smirked but no mirth was in his eyes.

Billy came out of the bathroom and you heard him going towards Stu but to your shock, Stu was that pissed. That enraged at you both. That much past turmoil bubbling to the surface. That it seemed letting Billy man handle him all those years finally exploded. You hated it but the sound felt like it didn't come from you as a shrill gasp ripped past your lips as Stu punched Billy across the face before he could lay a hand on him to get him away from you. 

Stu went to swing on him again while Billy was down, going to straddle him to beat him god knows how many times. You yelled at him, “Stop it! Damn it, stop it right now!” as it fell on deaf ears and both him and Billy were trying to hit each other even in their injured states. You went to grab Stu by the shoulder and he shoved you back before a pained yelp came from you at your stitches and you collided against the chair. Damn…It hurts. You held back, not wanting them to do this but also not wanting to be injured for two nutjobs either. 

 You went to the kitchen moving faster than you should while injured. Trying to figure out what to do as you heard both men arguing and fighting. Stu, even injured, was a beast as he shoved Billy into a wall, actually cracking the drywall there, “You piece of shit! You knew how I felt and you did this behind my back!?” Stu yelled going to punch him and Billy dodged. “Don't love her? Isn't that what you told me a decade ago!?” 

“I didn't do anything you fucking lunatic!” Billy yelled back with a red cheek where his scar you gave him was as their grappling ended up in the kitchen near you. Stuff knocked off the walls.

“Stop lying!! You wrote her a fucking letter-” 

“Yeah! I did! 15 years ago! I was a fucking kid!” Billy emphasized angrily as he punched Stu but Stu tried choking him in a headlock.

“Yeah, I bet. Just like Roman, huh? And me being a scapegoat!” Stu had his arms around Billy's neck and Billy had no choice but to shove backwards in Stu's hold as you flinched when the small round table broke as they collided on top of it.

You did the only damn thing you could think of at the moment other than hitting them upside the head, let them kill each other or kill them with a knife.

They both grunted in annoyance, especially Stu, when you used the ice cold water from the sink hose and sprayed jets of water on them like 2 dogs fighting. “Enough! We don't need you both hurt, okay!? Fucking stop!” 

Stu got off Billy and marched towards you. Hair wet and pissed off. Fear dropped in your stomach at the predatory way he came towards you and as soon as you went to get a knife as defense, not expecting him to come at you like that... He grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you towards him. Dropping the hose in the sink and making you helpless against him in your injured state. You were too injured to even use any self defense moves and in this position it was hard. Shoved against a counter by someone so much bigger and both wrist in his hand and the distance closed between you two. You couldn't even kick him with your stitches so sore right now.

Billy tried getting up from the broken table on the ground, bleeding from where his stitches were but not as badly as Stu was. “Sttuuu!” He warned huffing breath and getting up.

Stu was sweating. Eyes crazed and bleeding through his shirt from reopening stitches in their short but intense fight. He glared down at you so hatefully. He glared as time judt froze.

“...You're lucky some tiny part of me gives a shit about you. If not? I'd rip you apart and bleed you out like I have so many other whores.” 

You stared. Not breathing as a chill ran down your spine. Because with his tone and the look in his gaze; you knew he meant it.

He jerked away to lean on the counter. In pain and panting as he hunched over and Billy leaned against the fridge near you. 

Stu shook his head in a dry smile. “...All those years, man. All those years I was there for you. I protected you, I left my number, I gave you the benefit of the doubt over and over, risked my damn identity and freedom not killing your friends…Well…Someone killed them, just not me.” He chuckled wryly, hanging his head.

Billy now with a red spot on his face slowly bruising glared tiredly at Stu. You just stared before telling him, “Stu, I swear I don't know what you think-” 

“I THINK?! No, I know. I know that you two apparently held hands and had a moment.” 

“Because you passed out and I was scared!” You exclaimed. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Billy and you share a book and he's a fan of it and a moment together and you go to him to talk and him to patch you up and him to take care of you when I've been pining for you for 15 years!” He gazed at you and his anger faded to desperation. “Fif-Teen-Fucking-Years.” He sounded out in a mumble as he stood up fully, gripping his stomach. 

“Stu.” 

“Don't bother. As soon as I can walk and drive and shit properly without pain; I'm out of here, man. And neither one of you will see me ever again.” He grumbled as he slowly made his way to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Billy and you were alone as he glared at you, “You just had to bring up that letter on the porch?” 

You were flabbergasted, “Hey, don't do that. I didn't know he was listening, neither did you!” You felt that shrunken guilt ridden feeling even if you shouldn't.

“Yeah well, he did. Now we both gotta sleep with one eye open. Thanks for that…Fucking idiot.” He mumbled getting an ice pack from the freezer for his face that was slowly getting red and inflamed from those punches. He glared at his broken table and shook his head and went to the recliner.

You just stood in the kitchen, your mind reeling like it had so many times before with these two. You never felt more weak and alone in your life…Well, top 3 at least on the awful moments list in your head. 

You walked out and noticed your jacket wasn't where you had it. You sighed to yourself knowing exactly who had it. “...I need to go talk to him. Or something. ” 

Billy scoffed, “Are you stupid or nuts? He'll kill you right now and these fucking injuries I got will be for nothing.” 

You rolled your eyes and laid gingerly onto the couch. Accepting maybe you needed to leave him be. Seeing the bathroom door open and Stu go to the bedroom.

That slammed door and hearing something break in HIS bedroom just sent Billy into a rage of his own. 

Billy and him argued one more time over the damage to the house and Stu stealing Billy's room that ended in Billy slamming the door screaming, “FUCKER!!” In outrage at his bed being taken in his own home by a guy he was letting stay here. You had talked him down from killing Stu which earned a ‘shut your fucking mouth and mind your business’ from him and yet you both complied. 

He tossed you some clothes and you finally got out of that damn hospital gown into an oversized flannel and comfy bottoms

Hours passed of awkward silence and the tv was on Rosemary's Baby. Billy had fallen asleep after 3 hours of ‘eh’ sort of grunts and shrugs as he had to redo his wrappings and had a bruise on his face. You tried to subtly clean up the mess him and Stu made but bending over wasn't a good thing for you right now. 

It was…Depressing. This house trailer with outdated everything and not a homey thing in sight. Especially compared to the Meeks house you stayed in tidy but cluttered with family things like kids toys and memorabilia and the fridge had pictures and drawings and cute magnets and the house smelled good but lived in in a cozy way and the blanket was fuzzy and clean but had a hint of the scent of Mindy's hair product where she had her hair braided that morning and had slept on it before you arrived. The pictures on the walls. The scooby doo and pikachu bowls and spoons for ice cream in the cabinets…Randy's movie collection.

A tight frown in place as you sighed. Thinking all of this was just dragging you down. You didn't need that anymore than you already had.

You had no one now. The cozy homely vibe people complain of as boring is a distant memory now. 

You saw Billy's room light was still on. Billy himself was asleep breathing deeply as you studied him for the longest time. His face matured so much in this decade. The shorter hair made him even more grown up looking as opposed to his longer hair he used to have. The lack of facial hair looked better on him too. Facial hair, at least that 90's goatee thin mustache combo he had, shockingly made him look like a kid that penciled it in or something. It looked out of place on his almost feminine features he had when younger. Now, with a much more chiseled jawline and bigger built frame he…Well, it was harder to remember he was that lean pretty boy with gel in his hair to sweep it back that was trying to kill you.

But Stu? He still looked so much like he always had just a bit more filled out. It was easy to remember Stu no matter how many style changes he went through.

You kept watching that light and you swore you heard a hiccuping noise that whether you liked it or not made you…Feel bad. It could've been him scoffing or anything but…The mere idea it was hurt from you hurt you in a way it shouldn't but it did. 

You cursed yourself glaring at the ceiling. ‘See? This is how you get into these situations!’ Was all you could think. 

You sighed softly and looked at Billy as you made a choice. Besides…You couldn't sleep and you knew damn well Billy wasn't as asleep as he acted. You were now in an oversized blue flannel Billy gave you to wear and a pair of gym style mens shorts. Nothing else to wear.

You quietly got up and crept past Billy's chair to the back part of the trailer. You almost wanted to use the restroom across from the bedroom and go back to the couch but you heard Stu still awake…And a tight frown formed as you raised your fist. You faltered before tapping on the wood with your knuckles. Stu was a loose canon and the longer this issue sat the more crazy he'd become.

[soupbabe]

The Lost Boys (Separate) x Male! Reader with Rapunzel's Hair

Anon asked: Heya! Could you do a lost boys x male reader, where the reader has Rapunzel's healing hair? (Romantic if possible)

Sure thing!! Haven't written for the boys in forever, I thought it was rlly fun and refreshing to write this :D

Marko

- He definitely found out about your powers through (kind of?) normal means: you needed to heal him

- Marko is the rowdiest vampire you know, he's always sharing new bruises and scrapes that were funny shapes

- One time he came to you with a wooden stake through his hand, nothing but ready to tell you about his run in with some wannabe vampire hunters

- He wished you sooner and called him badass for managing to ward them off, but all you did was call him stupid

- Without a word, you let down your hair and wrapped it around your hand

- Marko couldn't help but laugh and marvel, but the magical moment was cut off by your singing and (eventual) scolding about how dumb he acted

Paul

- ironically, he really liked it when you called him Repunzel.

- Even if his boyfriend had the longer hair, Paul always prided himself on his. Unlike you, he wanted to be known for his golden locks

- So seeing your hair shine and glow with a simple song did make him a bit jealous.

- Like of course he'd tease you, use your hair as his personal flashlight when he can't find something in the cave, but actually hearing people praise your hair always makes him a bit sensitive

- But give him 5 minutes of kisses and you whispering complements to patch up his ego and Paul is basically back to normal

Dwayne

- In all honesty, he's always had a thing for guys with long hair and to see your floor length braid made him happy

- Dwayne discovers the powers hidden within your hair when you asked him to give you an undercut

- With your hair being so long and thick, you were more than willing to risk it and sacrifice some of your magic just for the sake of comfort

- As Dwayne sectioned and began cutting, he noticed your golden hue fade into something darker, more natural.

- Truthfully your hair is one of the few things to freak him out, I think he'd treat you and your hair as something fragile. He doesn't like feeling as if he's taking your powers away from you or ruining something special, y'know?

David

- Your hair absolutely freaked out David too

- It wasn't uncommon for you to sit on David's lap and have him comb his fingers through your hair, but a problem arose when you started humming

- Suddenly David felt a comforting warmth emit from your hair, as if the sun kissed him for the first time in years, and your hair started glowing

- It took him a solid 2 minutes for him to process what was going on, and you only recognized that something was wrong because David stopped touching your hair

- His disappointed seeing your hair fade along with your humming was immeasurable, he'll always encourage you to glow for him so he can feel the warmth from your hair.

[punkrockscully]

"Kiss Me Underneath the Moon's Side Boob"

"I play the [wolf howling sound]"

You will say it’s not like that but, oh, boy, how many door-frames have you watched him from? You can dodge questions like lazy punches all you want but the nebulous aura of you-and-him has gotten so sharp it cuts—purple-flowered fields giving way to hot hot heat in grown-up bodies, Beatles-like baby-faces turned angular, eyes gone darkish and lusty and searingly hooked.

When he chases you, those thoughts— whispering bedsprings, a shimmying, and then rejoice in trembling and gravitational alignment, two worshipful dogs rolling around in a good smell. Still—and you cannot stress this enough— it’s not like that.

2. "I play the midnight moon"

And the ease in which you say it doesn’t surprise you but maybe it should—nothing surprises you but everything surprises you, with him, his flailing limbs, water-glow softness even as he’s karate chopping and doing ninja kicks. Slumped on his knees blitzed out of his mind, then crawling toward you in an animal prowl, your face wide-open and obvious— freak him out on purpose so he won’t notice the achingly soft light in your eyes.

3. "Midnight has got the hots for me"

You weave through everything he does—Mr. Midnight with the slutty curve of your waist on display. Curl yourself around him like a perfect spiral, conjoined, entangled, he will never be rid of you— eyes persistently dark, bearing down from across a stage or inches away huddled in his body. Puppy-lack of space between you, not borrowed but owned, touches that belong to you— he’s a giver, and you can be awfully persuasive but it’s not like he needs to be convinced to press his face conspicuously close to yours.

4. "Looking up at the moon wonderin' ... who's he kissin'"

You spent so long kissing anything to get the itch for him out of your mouth, tongue-first introductions but now you keep your lips to yourself unless they’re centimeters away from his. Your mouths were made for each other, molded from the same primordial clay to fit together quick and perfect— again, again, again—he always chickens out when you push too far, but how can you not push when he’s backed up against you swinging his little tambourine?

The moon winks her eye down on you leading each other away from a crowd, jubilant in your wanderings, drawn-out breaths in each other’s necks—he’s indefinable but you always have the words: life’s little lovescapes tripping from too-fast mouths, he shines under cold moonlight where you could touch him and have your fingertips come away glistening with unseeable stars.

5. "Pull me in close on a crisp eve, baby"

Moon-monster, deliberate gaze, glint of a shine in his eyes that took absolutely forever but not when you look directly at the source— headlong dive into a blissful hazy muttering hips-down on the greenroom couch while he plays a song with your own whining. You always get what you want even when you push him away, laughing at the lengths you go to kiss him.

another one :)

for @uhbasicallyjustmilex who prompted me with that lollapalooza interview (I think it was lolla idk) anyway kat was braver than the US marines for those questions, I honestly hope she's living her best life

[therealjordan23]

gwiles shitpost

ooo

The first thing Gwen had to do was tell Miles, and from some of the stories she had heard from other women, it was always one of the challenging parts. It wasn't supposed to be scary or difficult, but ever since the doctor confirmed her suspicions two weeks ago, anytime she tried telling Miles, she found the words die in her throat every time she opened her mouth. At this point, he must've been under the assumption that she had developed some form of memory loss.

The first night they were married, they had spent the night curled up in bed in Miles’ dimension. Too much had happened in too little time; they simply slept, wrapped up together all night. The next morning, Gwen woke up with her arm resting lightly against his bare chest, and she felt his steady heartbeat underneath her palm. She was relieved to find out that it wasn't a dream, and she had indeed gotten married to the man of her dreams. 

When he finally woke up an hour later, she kissed him with every ounce of passion she could muster, and they had truly become husband and wife in that one final threshold.

And now 4 months into the marriage, she was 2 months pregnant.

“Not that I don't like spending time with you," Hobie said thoughtfully. "But it's also dawn, Gwen. I thought you’d be asleep." 

Gwen had woken up early that morning, before the sun had begun to rise. She detangled herself from Miles' loving embrace, and pulled the covers up to his chin upon seeing goosebumps rise steadily on his chest from being exposed to the cold air. She kissed his forehead and silently dressed herself. Sneaking out, she headed to Hobie’s dimension where she knew he’d just be coming back home after a night of partying. True enough, she had found him, and together, they were taking a morning walk. 

"I needed to talk to you where other people wouldn't listen," Gwen insisted, sitting down on a tree trunk. "It's a secret."

"And Miles isn't in on this because…?"

"That's the problem."

She looked down at her hands and watched them shuffle and fidget. She'd been elated when she thought she might be pregnant, but she had to keep her excitement in check until she was sure. As soon as the doctor confirmed her suspicions, she took sudden permission from the universe to be as excited as possible. Truthfully she wasn't exactly sure if she and Miles were able to have children considering that they were from different universes. It was something they had accepted and talked about before tying the knot, and she was ecstatic to learn that yes, they were able to conceive children. Gwen wondered immediately if it would be a baby boy or girl, whether they would have a son or a daughter. She hoped the baby had her eyes and Miles' hair, and as much as she relished saying Gwen Stacy-Morales to herself often, she was even more excited that her children would share the same last name. Miles was the father of her children and she was the mother of his. 

She wanted to communicate all of this to Miles, but she never found the words.

"Talk Gwendy, what's wrong?" Hobie asked, taking a seat on the ground next to her.

"I'm pregnant."

Why was it so easy to tell Hobie and not Miles? Well, perhaps because Hobie had little stake in it other than being the fun uncle. She and Hobie would not be forever bound by this life that they both created and shared. 

That didn't stop him from turning pale and his eyes went wide. Gwen groaned.

"I don't know how to tell Miles, and you're freaking out, which means he'll definitely freak out, and it shouldn't be this hard! And at this point, he won't find out until I actually have the baby, and just say, 'Hi, this is yours', and, oof—!"

She was cut off by a very sudden and very tight hug. After a moment Hobie jumped back though.

"Sorry, I don't want to hurt you, love," he said, eyes darting to her still flat stomach and laughing nervously. "Congratulations Gwen! I’m so happy!"

Gwen smiled at that, and relaxed for the first time in days. "Really?" she asked.

Hobie looked at her in disbelief. "Are you daft? What do you mean 'really'? Of course, Gwen! Miles is basically my brother, you're like my sister!"

"I'm just nervous."

Hobie moved to kneel in front of her. "About what?"

"About what? About everything! Miles will lose his mind—"

"Why?" Hobie challenged. 

She fumbled for an answer. "B-because he's going to be a father! His entire world is going to change, and suddenly, we're going to have a baby to take care of—"

"Gwen." 

Hobie took her hands gently but with purpose. When she refused to look up, he put a few fingers beneath her chin and tilted her up until her eyes met his. And then he smiled the warmest smile he had ever shown her. 

"No one is going to make better parents than you and Miles," he said very plainly. "Miles was born to be a father, and despite not knowing if he could, he's always wanted kids. And you've always been such a kind, gentle, nurturing person. And even better, you two are in love. That's rarer than it should be when it comes to parents. Hell, I wish my parents weren't separated, but here we are, Gwen. Love between parents is rare to come across these days. I know you'll both love that baby with all your heart because you love each other."

It was surprising how deep Hobie could be, and he had a point. She had been elated in the first seconds of knowing she'd be a mother, because she knew that they were doing this together. That's what a baby was: two lovers coming together to create an entire universe made up of stars from his eyes, planets from her hair, comets from their skin.

"Tell him Gwen. I mean right now when you get home. If you don't, I can't guarantee I can keep quiet for long," he laughed.

She smiled, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, gave his hair a stroke, and stood, opening a portal back to Earth-1610. Hobie gave her one last hug as she walked through the portal to the front door of their home. Gwen entered just as quietly as she'd left.

The house was still dark. In the bedroom Miles had moved, turning onto his side with his hands bunched beneath the blanket. He was still heavily asleep, his breathing very deep. Gwen took a deep breath. She kneeled in front of him and gently brushed her hands through his hair. It was always soft and thick and curly. She studied his features intently: he had grown up a lot from their teenage days. Miles grew to be around 6’2 while she stayed 5’10, keeping his hair relatively the same. He had a light stubble, and was a lot more filled out and lean.He began to stir slightly at the touches, his eyes slowly creaking open. She leaned forward and kissed him until his eyes opened completely and he kissed her back lightly.

"Are you awake?" she said.

"Hmfph," he gave as a response, his voice thick, blinking rapidly.

She fought back a laugh. "Are you really awake? It's important," she said.

Miles pulled a hand up to his eyes and roughly rubbed the sleep out of them before pinching at the bridge of his nose. He sat up, the blanket falling down and exposing his skin to the chilly morning air and he shivered. He gave his hair a once through with his own hand before turning to Gwen with clearer eyes.

"Sí, mi amor, I'm awake," he said, yawning. "Are you alright?" 

She took a deep breath through the nose, and told herself when she exhaled out would also come the news about the baby.

"I'm pregnant, Miles," she said.

He looked at first like he'd misunderstood her. Then his jaw fell open. His eyes looked down with such concentration she thought he might have been reading an invisible book.

But when Miles' eyes finally snapped back to Gwen, he smiled and his eyes were like fireworks. In one fluid motion he grabbed and pulled her in and rolled over. He tightly hugged Gwen who hugged him back. The anxious weight on her chest finally dissipated, and a garden of flowers replaced it. She told Miles, and it felt amazing.

He was whispering words of adoration in her ear while she just pulled at him tighter and relished the smell and feel of skin.

"I love you, Gwen," he said plainly and quietly.

"I love you too," she returned.

They spent half the day in bed, talking about names, taking bets on whose hair and eyes it would have. Miles insisted it would be the best Spider person; Gwen said she didn't care as long as they were happy and didn't set foot in an abandoned subway tunnel. He brought her food on a tray, insisted they'd buy all new food immediately, fresh food, he'd bring it to her whenever she needed. She laughed and told him it would be months before she'd truly need that.

It had been the best day of Gwen's life, but she knew there could only be one day that could outdo it.

But she'd have to wait 9 months. 

[gazsluckyhat]

Sarah's House

Seven - Sunlight

Masterlist

So first off. Super important. A lot of victims of SA become hypersexual. It's normal and happens alot. SO DO NOT COME AT ME WITH BULLSHIT. Unless you have been through it hush.

Now, this one is SMUT. Super long and dirty. So enjoy!

Price knew he shouldn't take the mission. The outcome seemed obvious, or so he thought. Until he wasn't anymore.

or

Like calls to like. Or something of the sort.

Price sits with Sarah in his lap until her breathing finally evens. Her head tucked into his neck, his hand rubbing circles and humming in her ear. Anything to calm her. He knows Ghost is long gone with her father by now, his flight rapidly approaching. His shirt is damp, snot and tears soaking the sleeve.

"Lets go inside, Lovie, ya'?" She nods agaisnt him. Price stands with her in his hold easily, her weight nothing. He catches Johnny at the door, he pulls it open so they can easily come inside. Sarah shivers when they get in, the air conditioning colder than she expected. Reaching for Johnny's arm she tapped her finger agasint it. -.. .- -.. / --. --- -. . Dad gone?

"Ya' lassie. Ghost took 'em." She turned back into Price's chest and started to cry again, this time much softer.

"Shhh. It's okay darlin'. It's all gonna be okay." Price spoke sweetly, doing anything he could think of to calm her down. Gaz nodded towards her, arms outstretched.

"Let me 'ave her." Price shifted her over, her body easily molding into him. "Promised I'd do your' hair, ya'?" Sarah nodded, closing her eyes as he carried her upstairs.

Gaz has her sitting on the bathroom counter, back facing the mirror. She'd almost freaked when they'd walked in. He still didn't fully understand why. She kept her eyes closed as he cut her hair. Making it even and adding some nice layering. She'd whimpered and leaned into him when he'd started brushing her hair. The knots not even bothering her. Gaz had set up his phone, music playing softly.

"This looks good on you. Wanna see?" Her eyes snap open, fear clear as day. She shakes her head, silently begging him. "Hey, easy. What's wrong?"  Tears are pricking in her eyes again. What does she say? I can't look at the pathetic girl in the mirror because she quite actually makes me sick to my stomach? Or The girl in the mirror is nothing but a broken shell of who I spent my life avoiding to become? No, she can't tell him that. She couldn't stand to have him look at her with pity.

"U-g-ly." He pushes her hair out of her face and holds her head straight. Getting eye level as he talks. She can't look away, not with how he's holding her cheeks, but she doesn't even want to. Gaz's eyes are dark but light at the same time. They're so different from Johnny's. But she could stare at both forever.

"Listen to me. You are not ugly, love. Never could be. Don't let them take anything else away from you, okay? You make my heart race, have since I saw you all cleaned up for the first time. Prettiest thing around here. Way better than them boys downstairs." Sarah chuckles and Gaz kisses the fallen tears off her cheeks. Lingers there for a few minutes, Sarah drinks him in. The warmth of his breath, the way his lips feel and how he smells. She wants to stay like that, wants to actually kiss him. Wants him to tangle those hands in her hair, leave bruises along her neck and collar bone. He pulls back and Sarah swears she sees something like hunger in his eyes. He hides it with a smile and places his hands at his sides.

"Would you be willing to try and shower? Need ta' get that hair off ya'." Sarah straightens up. She knows she needs one. Hasn't been really clean in two years. Whore baths only going so far. But the fear is there, along her shoulders and in her chest. "I'll be right here, or I could get Price or Soap." Sarah nods, reaching for his hand.

"Don-t leav-e?" Gaz squeezes her hand and smiles at her.

"Never." He starts the water up, back to her. Sarah slips off the counter and kicks off her pajamas. She steps closer to the shower, fear enveloping her. Gaz turns around and quickly averts his eyes. He tells himself to be respectful, even if he wants to just trace her body with his fingers. He can tell she's scared. She is shaking her hands a little. "Is it warm enough?" She's frozen beside him. Sarah tells herself this is different, she's not being hurt, she's gonna get clean. She suddenly has a idea, not sure if Gaz will even agree. She turns to face him, trying to use her best puppy dog face.

"Sh-ow-er wi-th me?" Gaz blushes, eyes studying her face. She's batting those pretty green eyes at him and God, he can't say no to her. He nods. Her lips forming a smile.

"Of course, pretty." He strips to his boxers, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. But she stops him before he can get in, her fingers pointing at his hips, a confused look on her face. "Oh, don't wanna make you uncomfortable." She's shaking her head, pointing at her own naked body. Gaz was trying really hard not to look at it, man. Even malnourished she's beautiful.

"Naked." She touching his hips, finger tips slipping into the waistband and snapping it. Fuck, Gaz has to take a deep breath. Beg the blood to stay where it's at. But he nods and pulls them down his legs, kicking them to the side. He catches the way her eyes wander over him, focusing on each section. He's worried he's ruined it, made the moment weird. "Hand-some." She takes his hand and pulls him into the shower with her. She hides in the dry spot, right out of the stream. Water is warm and Sarah tries to relax. She wants to be able to enjoy the water again. Used to love swimming and bathing and long hot showers. Gaz stands in the stream, droplets splashing off him and onto her.

"Let me help you." And he's grabbing her, placing her back to his front, ignoring the need he feels. "Take deep breaths love. Try and relax for me." And she does, even leans her head back on his shoulder. Allows the water to wet her hair, face and body. It's nice. Really nice. With Gaz behind her, rubbing her arms and humming in her ear she relaxes. Allows the tension to wash away with the water. She also tries her best to ignore the heavy and warm body part resting agaisnt the base of her back. Ignores how it's dribbling something sticky onto her skin or how her brain is imaging it agaisnt her tongue. She has a feeling it'd weigh it down and fill the space easily.

"Want me to wash yor' hair?"

"Mhmm." He does, takes his time and scratches her scalp. Lathers the conditioner in it and lets it sit. Hands her a loofa with a nice smelling soap on it and looks away when she runs it across her chest and between her legs. Washes her back for her, then happily rinses the thick hair clear. They stay like that until the water runs cold, Sarah immediately getting out. Gaz chuckles and wraps her in a fluffy towel, chooses to wrap one around his hips. He towel dries her hair until it's just damp. Helps her get dressed in a pretty pink top and the softest sweats she's ever had. And of course wears the pink slippers he bought her. She follows him to his room, watches as he grabs his clothes. Loves the way his back muscles move as he gets dressed. Almost drools when he drops the towel and she gets a clear view of his ass. Thanks whatever God sent this man her way. She always was a ass girly.

"Enjoying the view?" He smirks at her and she nods. He flexes his arms at her and kneels right in front of her. "So pretty." Sarah surprises him. She leans down an grabs his face, planting her lips on his. It's quick and simple and then she's pulling back. Leaving Gaz shocked and frozen. Johnny calls her name down the hall and she jumps up to follow. Gaz stays stuck to the hardwood.

Ghost closes the door behind him and is greeted with Sarah firmly placed between Johnny and Price, a game on the telly. They're explaining the rules and what is going on to her. He can see from here she's confused. Even chuckles to himself as he makes his way in. He decides to save her from boredom by asking her to help.

"Flower, wanna help with dinner?" She's standing up and by his side in a instant. Her green eyes shining as she follows into the kitchen. Ghost easily lays out the ingredients they need, pork chops, flour, eggs, cream and various other things. "Come 'mere. Stand in front of me." He puts her where he wants, and wraps his arms around her.

"Gonna teach you how." And he does. But she doesn't process a damn thing. No, because she is too focused on his breath agaisnt her neck, or the feeling of his arms trapping her agaisnt him. The rhythmic beat of his chest and the way he massages the seasoning into the meat. His hands are the opposite of Gaz's. Way bigger, thick fingers and callouses. But god if she doesn't wanna taste them. Feel them in her mouth, suck the cream right off of them. Two would burn so good inside of her, might even ease the feelings away. Wonders if he'd use one or both. Maybe his mouth? God she hasn't had that even before she went missing. Hard to find a guy that actually enjoys eating her out. Or who's even good at it. Maybe Gaz is good at it too. Fuck, what about both of them, together. That causes her moan, just a little bit. She doesn't mean too and tries to hide it but Ghost has super hearing.

"You okay Flower?" Her cheeks are bright red. He can feel the way her heart is beating. Knows that she moaned, but he wants to know why. What has her moaning, her back tense, her breathing labored. She nods agaisnt his chest but he knows she's lying. Can feel it in his bones. "Wanna help me put it in tha' oven?" Sarah nods and goes to step away, trying to put as much distance between the two as she can. His touch doing nothing to stop the beating in her vagina. She thinks he's knows too. His brown eyes stayed glued to her face, catching every movement she makes.

"What's got you so worked up, huh?" He's got his arms crossed, the question hanging in the air. She shakes her head, averts her eyes. Think about anything but how he looks so fucking delicious in the Henley and jeans. Or how Gaz felt agasint her back. "Lying to me isn't gonna help." She once again shakes her head and shrugs. "Use your words." He's gonna be the death of her.

"No-thi-ng." Lies. He squints at her and then turns away, showing the bakeware into the oven. He stops beside her, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"Yer' ah' bad liar, Flower." Leaves her in the kitchen.

Dinner is uneventful, the food amazing. The boys praise her while Ghost just smirks. She catches Gaz's eyes a couple times, can maybe see the want in them. But he doesn't hold her eyes long enough to truly see. His cheeks flush when he catches her looking at him. Sarah can't help but wonder if she made things worse. Should've just kissed his cheek. Stupid. So stupid. Russian scu- Johnny is talking to her. Electric blue eyes focused on her face. He's so pretty. Can't help but think it.

"Mhmm." She agrees to whatever he's saying. Doesn’t care what it is. His lips are moving and all she can think of are the marks he could leave with them. Fuck. Get it together Sarah. Can't figure out why he mind is so set on sex. Why all she can think of is hard cocks and skilled fingers. She just spent two years being raped and used like a sex doll. Sex should be the last thing on her mind. But yet at the sound of Price's gravelly voice all she can think about are nasty things he'd whisper in her ear as he fucked her. She still has bruises on her from fists and batons. Still hears their voices screaming in her head. Can still feel their touch on her skin. But god if she isn't horny. Feels like a teenager again. But feels ashamed at the same time. Who would touch her knowing what she'd done? Who'd she done. She truly was nothing but a Russian whore. They'd turned her into it. Fucked it into her skull. She was dirty, the kinda dirty a shower wouldn't fix.

"Where'd ya' go?" It's Johnny, eyes shining bright. She stares for a second before deciding to just go to bed. Her dinner ruined. By you. She thinks. She doesn't want them to see her wallow. She's afraid they'll she what she already knows is true. She doesn't hear them coming after her, maybe because she's not seeing shadow people. She closes the door behind her and breaths. Takes a second and finds a nice soft set of pjs then heads to the bathroom. Keeps her eyes closed as she sets her clothes on the counter and just tries to calm down. Counts to ten before she opens her eyes. The woman staring back is so different. She's bone thin. Her once full breasts now gone. The woman left is scary looking. Her hair is still thick but colorless. Her skin pale and lifeless almost. The eyes that mirrored her fathers now look with horror. She doesn’t see any semblance of the Raven. The once strong and fierce soldier. Everyone used to stare in awe but now all she gets is pity. Doesn't even realize her hands are shaking until hers are covered by another set. She looks up into the brown eyes of Ghost. He's watching her. Eyes studying her face, the tears that have leaked down once full cheeks. The quiver of her lip as she holds back a sob.

"Don't do it." He speaks softly. But sternly. "Flower, you are killing yorself'. I know what you went through. What they did to yo-" She cuts him off. Eyes going wide.

"No." He doesn't know. No one knows. "You- don't." She's stumbling over words. Trying to put them together. "Raped me." She lets the tears fall. "Would put food-" Takes a breath as she stutters. "In front of me-e-e. Te-ll me to w-ork for it." Ghost stays still, using his body as a crutch for her. Keeps her hands under his.

"You don't have to tell me." Ghost tries. She doesn't listen.

"When I'd bleed, from how raw I was-" She shakes her head. "They'd use another hole. Until it was bleeding. Joked about taking my teeth so I could suck their cocks better." Ghost has to tighten his hands on hers, actually feel her because he's on the brink of losing it.

"When they learned I could speak Russian they would spit at me. Say vile things. Make me repeat them. Ask for them." She closes her eyes. "Made me their whore." She barely has the words out before Ghost has her spun around and pressed into the counter. His hands locking her in place.

"You are not a whore, Sarah." He's shaking, she can feel it. "You are a survivor. The strongest person I've ever met." His eyes are damp, the lashes sticking together. "What they di-did to you is disgusting and inhumane. Should've never happened. If I could I would personally break every single person's neck who hurt you. Make them beg like they did you." He's angry she realizes. Beyond angry even. And not at her but at them. The men who'd touched her and spit on her. "I'd take you home. Away from them and with me." Her breath hitches in her chest. Him? Sarah stares. She can see it in his eyes. The need, the want. For her. She takes her fingers and places them just under the start of his mask, pulling up. Asking a question. He covers her hands.

"Flower." She tugs on it again. A plea this time. She points at her scars. "I can't."

"Please." He can hear it in her voice, something new. He can't tell what it is though. There's something about how she's holding the fabric, her fingers pulling it taunt. He can't tell her no. And it'd be nice to be Simon with her. Simon who loves bluebirds, Simon that likes to hike, and maybe even Simon that sleeps with his arm around Sarah. Maybe even just Simon.

He pulls on the hood, her fingers pushing the mouth up and away. Closes his eyes as he throws it to the floor, fear metallic in his mouth. He can feel her fingers. They're tracing every scar and bump and valley. She lingers on his lips, humming to herself. He expects her to back away, leave him there alone and ashamed. But she doesn't. She stands there then pushes herself onto the counter and pulls him to her by his belt loops, doesn't even give him time to adjust before shes pulling his head down and kissing him. It's soft, that of someone who's testing the waters. Simon pulls away, her face unreadable.

"Flower." His tone is warning. Sarah sees it then. His grip on her thighs tells her as much. What she had seen in Gaz's eyes was right. She sees the same in Ghosts. Desire. It's bright and eating away at them. Any other person would have just acted but not them. No, they took her feelings into consideration, put themselves aside. Her heart swells from it. So she leans forward again and kisses harder. He pulls away again, just not so fast. "Flower, stop. We can't." He's saying it more to himself then her now.

"I wa-nt to." It's short and simple but no, he won't accept it. Not from her.

"I can't. I won't be able to hold back and If I hurt you…" She cuts him off, setting his hand between her legs. Where a damp spot had been made. And fuck if it wasn't warm. He closes his eyes and sets his forehead agaisnt hers.

"Ple-ase Ghost."

"Simon. My names Simon." Then he's kissing her. Hands in her hair and actually kissing her. She fits perfectly agaisnt him. And she's so fucking warm. She moans into his mouth and reaches to his pants. He pulls back with a groan.

"I'm not fucking you on the bathroom counter for the first time." Sarah giggles as he lifts her effortlessly and carries her to the bed. He pulls his shirt off first and yanks her pants and underwear down her legs. He takes them over his shoulders and dives head first. Breathing the scent of her skin in. Of her. He nibbles on her inner thigh. "Three taps for red Flower." And then he's in. The hair that is there is minimal, malnourishment does that. He licks up the middle, the sweetness causing his eyes to roll back in his head. She moans, loudly too. Takes her hands and grabs a fistful of hair. He moans into her. Finding her clit he swirls his tounge around it, feeling as it pebbles up. When he adds pressure she whimpers and arches her back. He chuckles at her.

"Mmmmm. Taste so pretty Flower." He presses a finger into her mouth and her lips suck onto it instantly. Lets her soak it with her own spit before slowly pulling it out. He slips the finger inside her, making sure to ease it in. There's discomfort on her face, so he pulls it back. Sarah's eyes open and she shakes her head.

"Wanna feel good." It comes out a whimper, but he understands. He kisses her inner thighs and nods. Going back to devouring her he presses the finger in more, working it inside her. He feels her rolls her hips agaisnt his mouth, whining. He needs her to cum on in his mouth first. Wants to taste it. So he goes faster, presses harder. Sarah can't breath. The pleasure snapping at every nerve ending. Can feel it licking up her spine. She's moaning, her words unintelligible. But that's okay, Simon doesn't need her to talk, no he needs her to writhe on his tongue. And she does. Her grip tighter as he feels her tighten around his finger. He quickly slips in another, needing to work her open if he's gonna fuck her. That does it. She sobbing agaisnt him. Her release covering his hand and mouth. And still he stays there, slurping up every drop until she's pushing his head away. Licking his lips he crawls up her body, kissing along the way. Slips his fingers into her mouth, makes her suck them clean.

"Taste how sweet you are, such a good girl. Cuming on my tongue." She whimpers around his hand, a shiver going down her back. Pulling them out he pushes her top up and off, quickly kissing between her breasts. "So fuckin' perfect Flower." She moans pulling him closer and slipping her tongue into his mouth. He pulls her hear, tilts her neck to the side so he can kiss it. Leaving  couple marks as he does, the way her body convulses making her so much harder.

"Ne-ed you, Si-mon." She whines it, yanking on his bicep. He chuckles. His girl is impatient. He kisses her again as he kicks his pants off, fisting himself a couple times before leveling it with her cunt.

"'Member, three taps." She nods agasint his forehead and he sinks the tip in. She grips his arm, digging her nails in. He kisses the corner of her mouth, slowly pushing in further. Her eyes squeeze shut and he wonders if he should stop, but she's not tapping yet. She's breathing deeply and just trying to relax. He kisses her cheek now. Try to comfort her. When he finally is fully seated in her, he rubs her arms. After a few minutes she opens her eyes and smiles.

"Feels go-od." He nods, rolling his hips slowly. Her eyes roll in the back of her head as she moans. "Fu-uck." He takes that as permission to go a little faster, and fuck, does it take every last ounce of self control to just not bully into her. To fuck her pretty little head empty. To replace every last memory of what they did to her away and leave only him. His cock imprinted on her cervix.

"Fuck, flower, so fukin' tight." He drops his head to her neck, his pace killing him. And apparently she knows it, smacks his ass a little.

"Fast-er." He checks her eyes, wanting to make sure she's still here and not lost in her head. When he's satisfied he does as she asks. Rolls his hips faster, pounds harder into her. And god if it isn't the best feeling in the world. She's so tight and warm, he knows he won't last long. And neither will she, she's already groaning loudly and trying to meet his thrusts. He can see she's close, she just needs a little more. So he gives it to her. Angles her hips up so he can hit deeper, thrust a little hard. And she's gone. His name coming off her lips in moans and mumbles. He can feel her release coating him and dripping down, the sound lewd. The way she's chanting his name like a prayer gets him so fucking close. She's scratching his arms and shoulders and back. Her body jerking with each thrust. Just a little more.

"Simon, please." Her eyes are locked to his and that's all he needs. With one finale thrust of his hips hes spilling into her, his body falling onto hers. She doesn't try to push him off or complain, just weaves a hand in his hear and rubs his back. Ghost closes his eyes because, god, it feels so fucking good. To just be touched. To be cared for. He knows he's squishing her, can feel how her chest struggles to expand. He feels almost bad, afraid he's hurt her. But when he rolls off and actually looks at her the feeling goes away. Her face is that of bliss. She's completely relaxed. Her muscles limp and pliant. He kisses her head before running to get a rag to clean her up with. She lets him, doesn't say a word. And when he's done and crawls into be beside her she snuggles into his chest, wrapping her legs up with his. A hushed thank you whispered into his skin.

[tams-writeblr]

Love in a hopeless Place 12

Synopsis: She was barely grown up, when she stepped into the bar that was the center of Zaun's resistance. The people she met there would forever change her life, and one of them especially. Silco x reader/OC; first-person POV; overall rating: E for Explicit; canon-compliant (though I might make a stretch on the timeline here and there to make things fit my symbolism); age gap! (younger female, older male); 9 chapters; 45k; cis female reader/POV; no beta-reader; completed Chapter ratings/warnings: T for Teen, somewhat strong language Wordcount: <1k Author's note: Please note, that the first paragraph doesn't represent my opinion on this topic, imo Kid has all the right to be angry. Ah Claus, the father everyone wished they had growing up, right? I really try to write him as just a really good dad, and he's just always worried about his daughter. I mean, who would want their daughter to date a naughty revolutionary? My dad was freaking out about a kind mechanic, haha. And of course smooth bastard Silco does his magic... Comments would be appreciated!

Today's music recommendation: Dick Brave - Take good care of my Baby

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Act II

Chapter II

Part 2/3

Work was a welcome distraction. Chatting with my favorite customers made my mood go up again, so that I didn't have to think about the fight all day. Still in the calm moments I was wondering if I had overreacted or could I have shown him more clearly that I didn't want what he was doing. Just like that, I was hanging in my thoughts, filling the racks with new goods as the doorbell rang.

"Ah, Silco, my friend!", I heard my father chirp. "Gods, lad, what happened to your face?"

"Ah, some enforcer-bastard didn't like it."

"Yeah, yeah, always the same with them. What can I get you today?"

"Actually, Claus, I'm not here for you today, but for your gorgeous daughter."

As I heard him talk like that, a glass of preserved mushrooms slipped my fingers and shattered at the ground.

My father called my name and asked if everything was alright, but Silco was already next to me, helping me pick up the pieces.

"What the fuck are you doing here?", I hissed, and took the shards rudely out of his hands. Of course, I cut myself doing so. I cursed under my breath, letting the pieces fall back to the ground.

Silco quickly took my hand and placed my bleeding finger to his lips. 

Looking into his green eyes, I felt my anger be washed away like junk on the shore.

"I'm so sorry for this morning. I couldn't let you go like that."

Before I could answer, the sound of my father clearing his throat made us both jump.

"What on Runeterra is going on here?" His eyes were fixed on my hand that was still in Silco's.

He gracefully stood to his full height. "This is part of the reason why I'm here, old friend. I just can't square this with my conscience anymore. I've been seeing your daughter." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "For a while, already."

My father looked at me, and I also raised to stand straight. "Do you know how old she is?", he growled, while not looking away from me.

"In fact, this was the first thing I asked her. Indirectly."

My father growled lowly and gave Silco a look that I truly didn't like. "So it was you all this time? I should have known by this stupid jacket she's been carrying around all the time. And those ugly red shirts she was wearing."

"Okay, I got that you don't like my fashion sense, Claus, but I hope this doesn't stand between us, on a professional basis, I mean. You need to know that I love your daughter."

I gasped at the confession, and my father gave me a short, warning look.

"Don't get cocky, pal." He seemed to be going over the last half year and finally faked a smile. "But, I'm afraid I'm not in the position to tell her who she's seeing." He looked at me with as friendly a face as he was able to. "Love, please go get a broom and a towel. I'll escort your boyfriend outside. He's clearly distracting you too much." The word "boyfriend" cut like a knife, and I cringed, quickly running to the broom closet to get everything I needed to clean up my mess. As my father returned to the store a few minutes later, I didn't dare to look at him. "You could have told me yourself!", he scolded, and I heard the disappointment in his voice. "I thought you told me everything." He clicked his tongue at my weak apology. "Silco of all people. You know that he attracts trouble, don't you?"

I nodded weakly. I had caught a glimpse of it just now.

Claus sighed. "At least he seems to be in earnest with you."

"What makes you think so?", I asked carefully.

"That he had the nerve to talk to me like that. I remember when I dated your mother. I was shitting my pants when I met her father. But he had to meet me. You were on your way." He gasped. "Gods, don't tell me you're-"

"No!", I quickly cut him off. "No! We're being careful."

My father covered his ears. "I don't wanna hear about this, you hear that?"

I laughed and hugged his broad frame. Planting a big kiss on his cheek, I thanked him for always being there for me.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

The In Betweens Season Three Sneak Peek

AHHHHHHHH it's finally here. I know, I know, this has taken me absolutely forever, and only the first part is done, but I am so so excited to share this with you guys. This series is hands down one of my favorites and I'm hoping some of you have stuck with me during this long hiatus. So, without further ado, here is a sneak peek of Season Three Episode One: Schrodinger’s Cat.

-

He’s just passed out on his couch with his phone off. That’s what Emily kept telling herself as she climbed the stairs to Hotch’s apartment. Everything’s fine. It was just her profiler brain keeping her on edge. If something had happened, he would have called. 

Unless he couldn’t.

“Stop freaking yourself out, Emily,” she muttered to herself, finding the door to his apartment and knocking. “Hotch? It’s me, Emily.”

No answer. 

She pulled out her phone and dialed, that pit in her stomach turning. It worsened upon hearing the ringing off his cell inside. Everything else was deadly quiet. And when she turned the handle, she found the door already unlocked. 

Emily took out her gun and stepped inside. 

Everything seemed normal. Too normal. It looked as if he’d just arrived home and had stepped out for just a minute. But somehow, she knew she was stepping into a crime scene, even before she saw the multiple pooling bloodstains on the carpet around the corner. 

She didn’t waste any time. She called Penelope first and told her to send police and FBI techs as soon as possible. Emily also warned her not to tell the rest of the team.  Lives were in danger, including that of a young boy, and she didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize their focus on the case. The only one she could tell was Reid, and that was only because he was expecting her to come back with Hotch any minute. 

She’d have to tell Y/N. Her chest ached at the thought. 

Reid was still looking over files when she called. 

“Hey.” 

“Reid, listen, I’m not going to be able to come back. Something’s happened.” 

“What?” 

She sighed, trying to keep the concern from her voice. “Hotch is gone.”

Spencer’s heart stopped. “What are you talking about?”

“What’s going on?” Dr. Barton asked. 

“I just got to his apartment and his car is here, but I can’t find him, and Reid… there’s blood.” Prentiss took a deep breath. “I told Penelope to send police here and I’ll stay to figure this out, but I need you not to say anything to anybody else. You all need to stay focused on protecting the Bartons and anyone else who might be in danger.” 

“Is this about Jeffery?” 

Reid turned to the worried father, his face paling. “No, no it’s unrelated.”

“We only have a few hours left here.”

“I’m really sorry, but I have to take this phone call, ok?” 

Dr. Barton sighed in frustration. “What could be more important than my son right now?”

It took everything in Spencer’s power not to lose it right there while countless panicked questions ran through his mind. 

“I assure you this will take one second. Please, I promise,” he pleaded. 

There was something about his voice. Something familiar. She stared at the twin blood stains and remembered how Reid had been when Y/N had been taken by the Cunninghams. 

“Reid, I’m going to need you to stay with Dr. Barton-” She started, but he cut her off.

“I’ll call somebody else. I have to go down there.”

“You can’t. Everyone has to stay focused on his case-”

“Emily, you don’t understand.” He tried to hold back cries threatening his voice. It confirmed her fear before he did. “Y/N went to see Hotch last night. She-” He inhaled, trembling. “She never came home.”

[moonshynecybin]

it’s probably been said already but rosquez howl’s moving castle

INSANE!!!!!!! vale's tiny earring vaguely androgynous wizard swag... old man marc... this got long?? under the cut

and see the thing is. i think this is a unique kind of torture for someone like marc. truly. like marc knows he's hot. marc enjoys people thinking he's hot. even in this universe, where he's sadly running the family shop so alex doesnt have to, i simply must believe he has six pack abs and is in fact invested in making people look at them. like he views his body as a machine, hes very active, he would NOT enjoy all of the new aches and pains and limitations that come with being magically EIGHTY. so after the witch of the wastes (uccio?? someone jealous and in love with vale LMAOO) brushes in to the hatshop that night and hates marc on sight/fundamentally alters his body, i think he IMMEDIATELY starts militantly looking for a solution.

the solution: the wizard valentino is this oft elusive but INCREDIBLY charismatic wizard known by whisper and rumor to a. be insanely powerful and b. eat the HEARTS out of his young suitors. and marc (CRAZY MAN.) goes oh well im not hot anymore so he wont do that to me. i will make him fix me! and then he invites himself into vale's home and refuses to leave! says i am your new HOUSEKEEPER. and you will help me break my curse thank you :)

BUT: instead of a mystical and powerful wizard, hes confronted with the HOT GUY that he met several weeks ago that he helped escape from the witch of the waste's GOONS. he was like. walking home. and vale (in his big poofy shirt) whisks him into a scheme... looks at marc all bright eyed mischief... and marc hasnt had any enrichment in his enclosure in so long and just feels LIT UP from the inside, falls into step with vale immediately, matching him as they go. feels ALIVE for the first time since alex took his apprenticeship in another town... so he helps vale escape, flirts with him a LOT and laughs even more. smitten. but crucially and unfortunately, he also has NO idea who vale is throughout this. so later when he walks in the door and finds out that the guy he has a major crush on is also THE WIZARD VALENTINO. who also has a small FLEET of HIGHLY SKEPTICAL teen boy apprentices that marc is now kind of in charge of coparenting and like. convincing to clean their rooms, its a bit of an insane time to be marc.

so some WILD but highly amusing control freak behavior from marc ensues.. lots of little frictions as he arrives... pushback from the kids, vale acting cold and dismissive, a brand new body that doesnt do what he wants it to do... but after a while, marc MAKES space for himself. forcibly improves their lives. settles in to a FAMILY and CRUCIALLY starts emotionally fulfilling the little feral animal inside him that yearns to throw himself off of motorcycles at high speeds. get this many adrenaline seeking freaks that know MAGIC in one place and they are inventing new types of danger Know This. marc is with vale and the kids doing insane shit. and for the first time since he took over his family's shop, he is allowing himself to do what he LOVES. find his purpose. enjoy a community. relieve some of the crushing weight of familial responsibility. its literally the best hes ever felt. and he is. SO in love. so so in love.

BUT im gonna pull something from the novel here: marc is also an incredibly powerful sorcerer. has been forever. he just has NO IDEA. like i see marc literally his entire life using magic in little ways to influence all of the crazy thrill seeking stuff that he's done, but entirely unintentionally. but vale fucking knows. could see it the second they met. in FACT. marc has already broken his curse (marc doesnt know that). but he likes sticking around vale. so he's unconsciously keeping himself old so he can avoid leaving. truly, like when he isnt thinking about his body and hes normal and happy he looks like his actual age. marc with silver hair just laughing with vale and the boys... smile lines staying there but wrinkles fading more and more as time passes... he doesnt want to go back to his old life!!! back to being unremarkable in the hatshop like he knows he should!!! and everytime he remembers he looks decades older... but vale doesnt want to lose him either. so he doesnt tell him. but he also vant make a move with it hanging over them like that... so they live in a fraught equilibrium of pining that is also lowkey a marriage LMAO. like you are coparenting. jesus.

EYE THINK. that the breaking point here is alex returning at some point. talking with marc. and marc is. SO happy to see alex. smiling as hard as he can. but also he looks older than he's looked since he first arrived. all of that responsibility and guilt rushing back for abandoning his life at the hatshop. and it TEARS into vale like omg i am keeping him here selfishly away from his brother.... so he sends him away, "breaks" his curse. and marc thinks hes being DUMPED. and thats how the divorce happens....

[obsessedwithpedritoofc]

Mʏ Oɴʟʏ Rᴇᴀsᴏɴ (Fʀᴀɴᴋɪᴇ Mᴏʀᴀʟᴇs)

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Frankie Morales × Transmasc Reader.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 7,3 k.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Both sent to the same prison, with different reasons and different problems to deal with. At least most of them, until one brought them together.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: au, angst, violence, mentions of blood, shots being fired, mentions of death, mentions of killing, allusion to drugs, mentions of anger problems, mentions of scars, fluff, not wanting to have sex, frankies a sweetheart ofc, similarities with the series "time", actual physical descriptions of reader (but not detailed), no use of Y/N (reader is referred to as Lost). (lmk if i missed any).

𝔸/ℕ: hellooo as i suppose you already know, i LOVED writing this shit. frankie is my favorite pedro character and will always be and whenever i write something for him i get really excited. anyway so, this is based on the series "time", which is why it has some similarities to it but i mainly got inspiration from my own imagination :D whatever, im starting to bore myself lol. enjoy <3

𝕡𝕥 𝕚 𝕞𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟

𝕡𝕥 𝕚𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

That was it. You almost had it. You just had to pull the trigger...

"Come on, get up!", there was a firm, insistent knock at the door of your cell. You looked at the ceiling, sighed and reluctantly got up.

Of all the bad days you had —and you had many bad days—, that was the worst day you could have been transferred. Your legs were stiff, your knuckles were broken and bloodied, and the scar in your stomach was making your insides hurt more than usual, though maybe that was because of the hunger. But well, it's not like you could even choose when to be transferred or where. That fight hadn't been your fault.

"Move, asshole", you looked up at him. He grabbed the chicken sandwich from your tray.

"Aren't you a bit too small to be a boy?", he laughed. Some of the ones behind him did, too.

"Give me my fucking sandwich back and move out of the way", you tried to stand your ground, not look weak, give them a warning.

"Oh, lookit that! Little girl's gotten all mad—".

You didn't give him the chance to finish the sentence before you smashed your tray right on his face, making him fall to the floor with a heavy thud. You got on his lap and started hitting your fist on his nose, his mouth, his eyes, everything you could hit. Until the alarm went off and you were surrounded and grabbed by a bunch of guards that took you to an isolation cell.

Next day, you were being transferred to a prison thousands of kilometers away from him. You didn't even know where they were going to take you. But you didn't care either. At this point, you didn't really care about anything.

When you arrived to your new home it was snowing and you were freezing. As you were approaching, the driver gave you a brief explanation of how weather and life were like in that prison. You didn't see yourself living in a place where it was always cold and raining —or snowing, that day specifically—, let alone for more than twenty years and between all those freaks.

Your time in that last prison had been cut short barely a month after you got in. You rejected every chance you were given to call your family or whoever close to you, and you didn't receive a single visit. Not like you had anyone close to you either. The only one that had once been was now gone.

You spent your first day in prison like it had been your forever home. The next day, though, everyone knew who you were and started looking at you as if you were their next prey. Or more as if they knew why you were there. Luckily for you, no one approached more than necessary. And luckily for you, you didn't really have to approach anyone at all, since you didn't even have a cellmate.

A week in, though, a group of inmates paid you a visit while you were reading in your cell. One of them looked outside to make sure there was no one dangerously nearby, then closed the door. The man at the front stood still, looking at you and scanning the room. Then, he sat next to you on the bed. You immediately sat up by instinct and scanned them all as well. There was three of them —four counting the on sitting next to you. You really didn't have much of a chance if you wanted to suddenly run away, but you could knock out their boss and one of them if you were fast enough.

"I know who you are", said the one on your side.

"Before you continue, you should know the last person who told me I was small didn't end very well", you spoke fast, looking at him in the eyes with an expressionless demeanor, showing you weren't weak and that you were going to stand your ground.

"Oh, I know that, too", he smiled. "That's why you were transferred here, right?".

You sighed. The situation was starting to be a bit too cliché and boring for your liking.

"What do you want?", you didn't take your eyes off of his.

"Nothing", he raised his eyebrows. "Yet".

Of course, you thought, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"So?", you crossed your arms. The man beside you stayed silent for a while.

"Do people around here know what you really are?".

Your demeanor immediately changed, shifting from an expressionless one to a scared one. You knew what he was talking about. 

But how the hell did he know?

"Who the fuck are you?", you found yourself suddenly lacking of oxygen. He just smiled.

"I'll come to you when I need a favor", he got up and walked to the door, then knocked. The man behind it opened it. "In the meantime, try not to get in much trouble".

And just like he had walked in, he also walked out. You gasped for air the very second you were left alone. 

Great, one week in that prison and you had somehow already fucked up. 

"Hey", another man was standing by the door now. He wasn't one of the other guy's men. "You good?", he looked around the room as if he was searching for something.

"Uh... Yeah", you frowned. "Why?".

"Those assholes are always up to somethin', wouldn't be a surprise if they were tryna get you in", he put his hands in his pockets and leaned his side on the doorframe.

"Do you want something?", you sounded a bit annoyed.

"No. I, uh, was jus' checkin' you weren't hurt".

"Well, I'm not. Thanks", you forced a brief smile. "You can leave now".

"Right", he pulled away from the door. "Sorry for botherin' ya".

When he was out of sight, you breathed again.

You took some time to think. Maybe if you did what the guy had told you to, you'd be out of trouble. By the moment, the best for you was to stay out of trouble. He had said not to, perhaps so that cops around wouldn't keep much of an eye on you in case he was going to ask you for a favor —you'd be out of suspicion.

You sighed. You knew you were fucked. But maybe you could keep yourself from making it worse.

"Why?", you held up the gun. "Why did you do it?", tears were streaming down your face.

"I had no choice".

"Why did you do this to me?!", you took a step back.

"I didn't know I'd get y—".

"Get the fuck away from me!!!".

And then you shot.

You sat at the back of the dining room. You were lucky to go down early so you could avoid the masses of inmates that fought over the last piece of bread. Unfortunately, the assholes were something you couldn't avoid. Especially the ones that came to you that morning.

"Well, hello", he sat beside you once again, followed by his men.

"What?", your tone was stern, though your face gave away your concern of what he might say. He didn't say anything at first and grabbed the bread from your tray. "That's mine", you spat.

"Not anymore", he looked into you eyes with as much sternness as your tone was holding at first. "I need you to do something for me", he smiled.

Shit, was your only thought.

"What?".

"But I need to know I can trust you before I give you a task".

"No. You tell me what you want me to do and I'll decide if I do it—".

"I think you don't understand how this works", he moved closer. "I tell you to do something, and you just do it. You don't do it, I tell everyone about you. You fuck it up, I tell everyone about you. You tell the cops, I tell everyone about you", he stared into your eyes. "Are we clear?".

You didn't say anything. You didn't want to make him think you were one to submit easily, but you didn't have any other choice either. Luckily for you, he wasn't looking to humiliate you and just let it be.

"A friend of mine's gonna leave some stuff by your cell one of these days", he pulled slightly away. "I need you to hide it and save it until I come get it".

You put on your usual expressionless demeanor.

"Okay", was your answer. He smiled.

"That's more like it", he patted your shoulder and got up. "Good thing we're on the same page".

And like that, he just walked away again.

You looked around, searching for anyone that might have seen you. Everyone else seemed to be minding their own business, except for the man that had gone check on you the first time that group of inmates had gone talk to you. He was staring at you with a knowing look from a couple tables away. You saw him well this time: he was wearing a cap and his moustache barely hid half of his upper lip. He got up with his tray before you could scan him any longer, then walked up to you and sat by your table.

"What did he say this time?", he asked.

"Hello to you, too", you rolled your eyes and went back to eating. "Why do you care so much anyway?".

"Because the last people I saw him approach to didn't end well".

"Well, define not well", you said with your mouth full.

"Beaten up by cops. By himself. Ended in the hospital", he paused to think. "Dead".

You stopped chewing for a moment, then continued.

"And why me?", you swallowed. "There's a lot of people in here, at least one of them all's gotta be in some shit with those guys".

" 'Course they do, but most of 'em want the reward he gives 'em", he took a bite of his own food. "You didn't seem to".

"Yeah, well, I guess he ran outta rewards because he didn't offer me one", you raised your eyebrows while looking down at your plate, having another bite.

"Then why did you accept to do his dirty work?".

"I didn't ac—".

"I saw him gettin' outta here with your bread n' all smiley, you must've said somethin' he liked".

You stopped eating and slammed your hands on the table.

"Look, man. Whatever I do or not is none of your goddamn business, so I suggest you start minding your own shit unless you wanna end beaten up like the last person that fucked around with me", you stared into his eyes, your own set on fire. He threw his hands up.

"A'right", he grabbed his tray and got up. "Sorry for b—".

"Bothering me, yeah, sure, you can go", you shooed him. He knew better than to keep insisting, so he walked away.

You went back to your cell as soon as you were done eating. Damn, you did miss the bread. But to be honest, it wasn't really something you were concerned about. What really worried you at that moment was which kind of stuff was that bastard's friend going to make you hide and what would happen to you in case you were caught in a room inspection.

You hoped nothing too bad.

It was done. You had done it. It was over.

You stood there, looking at the body laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.

Then you heard police sirens.

"Drop your gun!", they broke the door open. They held their gun up. You held yours on the side of your head.

"Get back!", you screamed.

"Drop your gun and get on the floor!", they kept saying.

You saw no better way out of it. So you shot once again.

A knock on your door woke you up. You hit your forehead with the metal bars under the bunk bed when you jumped, startled. You cursed yourself and rubbed the hurt spot on your forehead before getting up.

No words were shared between you and the man at the other side of the door. He just lent you a small paper bag. You hesitantly grabbed it, then he walked away.

You went back inside. You sat on your bed, asking yourself if you should open the bag or not. To be honest, it wasn't really closed, so the others wouldn't really know if you had looked inside. It's not like he had said you couldn't look. Technically, you were doing nothing wrong—

"What did he give you?".

You hit your head again with the bars.

"Dude, what the fuck!", you rubbed the top of your head. You turned to look at the door, finding the same guy that had sat with you on the dining room more than a week ago. "Oh, it's you", you huffed. "Didn't I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?".

"I know", he walked inside. "But seriously, you need some help with that guy".

"Of course, I do", you smiled sarcastically. "Out of the two times he's talked to me, I haven't been beaten up, I'm not in the hospital and I'm not dead!", you threw your hands up. "I didn't even get in trouble with any cops because of him! Of course I need help with that guy!".

The man stayed silent as you gave him your most sarcastic smile. Then you shifted back to you usual expressionlessness.

"Why do you think I need help?", you shrugged angrily. "Is it because I'm not big and buffed like the dogs he carries around with him?".

"That's not wha—".

"You think I'm weak? Is that it?", you stood up to face him. "Well, lemme tell you something, old man. This is not my first prison, and I've been surviving on my own long enough as to be able to beat the shit out of everyone in this place if I wanted to", you stared into his eyes with your brow deeply frowned.

"I didn't mean that", he spoke slowly, definitely more calmed than you. His eyes flicked down for a moment before looking back into yours. "I jus' thought that, in case he wants to fuck you up real bad, you'd be better with someone by your side".

You cleared your throat and stepped back, looking up at him.

"Someone by my side, huh?", you resisted the urge to laugh. "Because I can't handle myself well enough?".

"I already told you I didn't mean—".

"I know", you chuckled this time. "I'm just fucking with ya", you sat back on the bed. "I understand that you feel alone in here and want a friend. And who better than the new inmate, right?", you gave him a knowing smirk. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Shit, you caught me", he sat beside you as well. "I feel so lonely in this prison", he chuckled. "I'm Francisco, by the way".

"Francisco? What kind of name is that?", you bursted into laughter. 

"Jus' call me Frankie, goddammit. No need to make a big fuss 'bout it", his mumbling made you laugh more.

"Yeah, Frankie's a definitely better name".

You spent a couple minutes like that, just laughing at the stupidity of it all. Truth be told, you hadn't laughed that hard in months. And you needed it.

"So", he said after a while. "What's in the bag?".

"I don't know", you looked down at the paper bag in your lap. "A guy just came and gave it to me".

"D'you wanna open it?", he looked at you with hooded eyes.

"I don't know", you took a deep breath. "I don't think I should, but they didn't tell me not to".

"Are you seriously gonna do what he says?".

"What else am I supposed to do? He's gonna fuck me up real bad if I don't", you let out a deep sigh. "I'll find a way out of it".

"What'd he threaten you with?".

Your blood ran cold at his question. You could tell how your face went pale, and your knees would have failed to keep you steady if you weren't seating.

"I'll take care of that", you said, looking at the ground. "I'll just do whatever he wants me to and stay outta trouble for as long as I can", you opened the paper bag, pulling a small disposable phone. "Huh", you put it back were it was. "What a little shit", you mumbled.

"It's a phone now, but what if it turns into somethin' else?", Frankie got up, still looking down at you. "You have to stand up to him—".

"I said I'll take care of that", you stood up to face him once again. "Whatever he does to me, it's my problem, not yours", you stared into his eyes. "I understand you're concerned, and I appreciate it, but you can't be behind my ass all day long. I'm not a kid, I can take care of myself".

Frankie stayed silent for a minute, processing your words. Then he cleared his throat and spoke again:

"Right", he nodded once. "I'm sorry, you're right".

"Right", you nodded, too. "Glad we're on the same page", you let out a heavy sigh. "Oof, sorry. I get pretty carried away when I'm angry".

"Yeah, I can see that", he chuckled. You laughed back.

"Welp", you took the paper bag with the phone and threw it into your pillowcase. "I better not use this thing before that asshole comes looking for it".

"Yeah, you better not".

You could tell he was uncomfortable now. He didn't now what else to say. You knew you usually did that to people who tended to assume you were as weak as your body showed. That was actually one of the reasons why you had learned to survive using violence most of the time, and probably the main cause of your anger problems. 

Before you could speak any apologies to him, you heard the walls and doors being hit outside, followed by cops shouting.

"Lights out! Everyone get to sleep!".

You looked at Frankie with a regretful expression. You felt bad for having caused him to be so taken aback and awkward.

"I better get goin'. Cops won't see me in my cell, might be suspicious", he said.

"Yeah", you nodded. "I'll... see you around".

"Sure", he walked out. "See ya".

Fuck, you cursed yourself.

Perfect. The first friend you made in prison ever and you screwed up your first non-violent chat. You could swear you had never felt so bad for taking your anger out on someone else.

Wait.

You had never felt bad for taking your anger out on someone else. That was actually what you were the best at.

Frankie was a good man. You somehow knew it. And you somehow knew he didn't deserve to suffer your anger problems as well. You had started off on the wrong foot, you also knew that well. Maybe the first thing you should do to try and fix it was apologizing. For treating him that bad the first times you talked, for taking your frustration out on him, for showing him the you no one like him should meet—

"Hey", a cop outside your door startled you. "Lights out and get on the goddamn bed".

"Yessir", you turned off the lights and laid on your bed as the cop closed your door and walked away.

You sighed, trying to close your eyes while thinking of what you would say to Frankie when you saw him next morning.

A beeping sound woke you up. You eyes opened in a sudden move and you looked around, confused, despaired.

Two cops were sitting beside your hospital bed, not seeming to have noticed you awake. 

Suddenly, everything came back and your memories hit you like a truck.

Your unsteady and heavy breathing alerted the cops. They both stood up and got on both sides of your bed. You tried to get up, a stinging pain in your stomach keeping you laid down. You lifted the hem of your shirt to see it covered by a large gauze, a little bloodied.

Your mind was dizzy as the cops told you about your current medical condition, and about the twenty-five years you were going to spend in prison for murder and trying to commit suicide afterwards.

At least you had gotten rid of your worst nightmare.

"Hey", you sat next to Frankie in the dining room. He smiled at you.

"Hey", he made room for you to sit more comfortably. "You get some sleep?".

"Yeah", you forced a smile. "Kinda", you cleared your throat. "I, uh... Sorry for how I acted yesterday. I didn't have the right to talk to you like that".

"It's fine. I'm like that sometimes, too", he shrugged it off. 

"No, I mean it. I shouldn't have—".

"Hey. It's okay, really", he stared into your eyes. "I understand you have... difficulties managin' your feelings, and it's alright", you saw the beginning of a smirk forming on his lips. "I've seen more o' those around here and they don't deal with it as well as you do".

His chuckle made you laugh back.

"Whatever, old man".

You spent the day talking to Frankie, walking around with him, getting to know him. Turns out you were right: he was a good man. And maybe he was a bit too sweet to be in a place like a prison, but he seemed to be doing well. You somehow knew he wouldn't have trouble if he suddenly got into a fight. 

The next few weeks went just like that. You stuck to Frankie, and Frankie stuck to you. You found in him the first person to be close to you in a long time. You found a friend in him. He didn't judge you, didn't treat you like the rest of people in you life had. It's not like he knew either, but you really didn't need him to know. There were already enough people in that prison that knew. 

Perhaps too many, you thought one of the times you thought about telling Frankie.

So you just accepted the fact that he would probably be your only friend in that prison, and maybe for the rest of your life. Maybe you didn't even have to tell him about—

"Well well well", a pair of hands fell on your shoulders as you picked up your freshly washed clothes. "Look who's alone today, huh?".

"The fuck do you want?", you turned around. There was that asshole again.

"You seem to be nice friends with that cap guy, huh?", he gave you a sarcastic smile. "What did you tell him 'bout us?", his expression shifted very quickly to one of pure anger.

"I didn't tell hi—".

"Bullshit!", he grabbed you by the neck of your shirt and pushed you against the wall. "What did you tell him? You asked for help, huh? Like the pretty little bi—".

You punched him right on the face before he even had the chance of finishing the sentence. He let you go and pulled away to recover, touching his now bloodied nose. The men behind him took a step forward, but he signaled them to stay back. And he just laughed.

"I. Told him. Nothing", you repeated. The guy in front of you sniffed and chuckled again.

"Wow", he stood up. "You have guts, gotta admit it", he fixed his nose. "Maybe I did cross a line there. I'm sorry", he shrugged. "Be careful, though. Next time, my dogs won't be as merciful", he looked back at them and nodded. Then he approached you. "You better not tell that fucker anything of our agreement. Wouldn't want the whole prison —including him— knowing what you really are, huh?".

You didn't say a word, but your silence was enough answer for him.

"Good", he cleaned the blood off his nose. "See ya around, little one".

Once again, he walked away.

Part of you felt relieved because you hadn't gotten yourself nor Frankie into trouble. Part of you still cursed yourself for being so fucked up.

That is how you survived your first year in that prison: doing favors to those pieces of shit and sticking to Frankie. You had learned a lot about him —what he used to do before ending up in prison, how he got there, the reason why he didn't get any visits...

You also told him all of that. What you used to do before ending up in prison, the reason why you didn't get any visits... You might have lied a bit when you told him how you got there, but he seemed not to notice —or at least not to mind that you did. Maybe he wanted to give you some space, and he understood that your situation was complicated. Whatever it was, you thanked him in your mind for not asking any more questions about it.

You became closer to him that you ever planned on. He talked to you every day, seemed to be the only one to care about you in that shitty place, made sure you were doing okay even with the assholes behind you. He even seemed not to want to let you go too far away from him, except when necessary. And even if you hated to admit it, being around him —or well, having him around you— made you feel safer than if you were by yourself. You and him both knew you weren't with him for protection —you could take care of that yourself. But he still made you feel protected, but not weak. And you didn't want to admit it, but you knew you had felt that before.

And it really, really scared you.

Of course, you kept having your disagreements with the group. Many disagreements. But you managed to keep it cool so that they would leave you and Frankie alone, which they surprisingly did. And you didn't get caught by the cops around either, which was also a surprise, but you wouldn't complain. Not when you had managed to keep you and Frankie out of trouble.

Yep, I've fallen so hard, you said to yourself one day. You were scared to admit it, but you weren't doing to lie to yourself about something you already knew.

"Well, hello", you turned around to see him standing behind you on the shower stall, scanning you up and down. You quickly wrapped your towel around your body and started getting dressed, trying to let him see as little as possible.

"What do you want?", you made sure to sound upset this time.

"You got what I was waiting for?", he sat at the bench outside the showers. You grabbed a small bag with herb from inside your pants and tossed it at him. He put it in his pocket. "Good".

He stood there, watching you, but he didn't say anything else. You frowned, trying to decrypt his expression. It wasn't the one he usually had. He seemed to be eyeing you with pity, but had at the same time he had a knowing look.

"Want anything else?", you crossed your arms and leaned on the lockers. He kept his pitiful, knowing look displayed on his eyes.

"Yeah", he looked down for a moment. "I wanted to talk to you about something. It's not about me this time, promise", he moved to the side of the bench and patted the spot next to him so you would sit. You reluctantly did. "You see...", he cleared his throat. "There's one of my dogs that... Well, actually a couple of 'em... that know about your... physical condition", he stared into his eyes.

Your heart started beating quickly, anger cursing through your veins.

"Some of them have been in here for a quite some time now, and... Well, they haven't had fun in a while, and since you're doing me some favors, I thought you wouldn't have trouble doing some to the—".

Your fist crashed against his face, this time harder than the last time you had punched him. Your other fist did, too. One, two, three, four times, you lost count.

"You think I'm some slut you can sell?! Huh?! That's what you like?! Fucking little boys like me?!", you spat on his face, hitting it again and again. "You fucking pervert, son of a bitch, piece of—!".

Now it was his fist what impacted on your face.

You fell to the floor with a heavy thud. He got on top of you, just like you had done with him, and started punching your face again and again and again.

Eventually, you lost conscience of your surroundings. Probably one of his blows hit you somewhere in the brain and left you dizzy. You could just feel more pain in your face and head, even though you couldn't even lift your arms or legs to try and defend yourself. The only thing you got to hear before you fell completely unconscious was how someone pulled him away from you and grabbed you to take you somewhere.

Frankie got there just in time before he punched all the teeth out of your mouth. He pulled him back and hit his head against one of the lockers, leaving him unconscious as well. Then he grabbed you and took you to the infirmary.

He was in his cell with his cellmate —who he usually didn't pay much attention to— when some guy came to tell them some shit about you. 

The truth about you.

Frankie didn't want to believe it at first. He couldn't. But the more he thought about it, more sense it made to him. Aside from your short frame and your beautiful little face —focus, Frankie, this ain't about that—, your explosive personality and your obsession over you being too weak or small kind of gave it away. It actually made sense. It was true.

He went that same day —after the night of your encounter with that fucker— to check on you to the infirmary. He wanted to know how were you doing, and he wanted to hear from you the truth of all the scene those guys were making over you. He was told you weren't conscious yet, but he stayed nonetheless —grabbed a chair and sat beside your bed.

He had been watching you ever since you got in that prison. And when the group got inside your cell that day, his suspicions about you were confirmed. You were exactly what they needed. Why would a little man like you make the cops think you were dangerous? Simple, you weren't. That's why they picked you out of everyone.

You were right thinking Frankie wanted to protect you from them. Not because you were small —he was sure you could defend yourself just right— but because he needed to, because his heart told him it was the right thing to do. That's why he insisted on approaching you as well.

He knew you were going to be close friends the moment you apologized for talking to him in such a rude way. And he knew he liked you too much for his own good. But honestly, he didn't care. The need to protect you made him not care at all. It actually just made him embrace his feelings more. It never really bothered him to be attracted to someone. He knew he was a bit of a lovestruck guy, and whenever he knew he liked someone he didn't hesitate to admit it —unlike you. 

He told you what he used to do before ending up in prison, what he did to end up in there, the reason why he didn't get any visits... He wouldn't usually tell someone that, but it was different with you. He had the feeling that you understood him, that you could empathize with him and wouldn't judge him for just anything. On the other hand, he knew you were lying to him about why you ended up in prison and why you didn't really have any friends —in or out. But he knew it wasn't easy for you —he had already seen how difficult it was for you to keep your feelings controlled, so he didn't want to push things unnecessarily further. He wanted to give you your space, since he knew he had already kind of taken that from you the moment he insisted on continuing to talk with you.

Or at least he wanted to, until he saw that asshole beating the shit out of you in the shower stalls.

Frankie got there just in time before he punched all the teeth out of your mouth. He pulled him back and hit his head against one of the lockers, leaving him unconscious as well. Then he grabbed you and took you to the infirmary. He stayed there long enough to hear them say you were going to take some time until you were fully recovered, and that you would probably be unconscious for a couple days. He also heard them mention the other guy was better than you, that his time in bed would be briefer than yours.

A cop came to them both and asked them about what had happened. Frankie could only say that he had seen that asshole already beating you when he arrived. The cop could only say he would have to do extra work for a week as a punishment for leaving the other guy unconscious, but at least he understood Frankie just wanted to protect you.

"You did good", he said to him.

Then he went to talk to the other guy. And Frankie could only fist his hands and hope no to break anything.

"I was asking him to help me with something in the shower and he just started punching me!", was what he said.

"What about the wounds on his face?".

"Well, I had to protect myself!".

"Sure", the cop wrote something on a paper, then stood up. "As soon as you're out of bed, you're being transferred to the next block".

A smile formed on Frankie's lips as the guy shouted complaints at the cop. Still, he knew you weren't safe. Not yet. Not even with him away. And he knew his dogs were everywhere —this block, the next, the prison some kilometers away from that one...

But he would still try to keep you out of danger.

The next day, he was in his cell with his cellmate—who he usually didn't pay much attention to— when some guy came to tell them some shit about you. 

The truth about you.

Frankie didn't want to believe it at first. He couldn't. But the more he thought about it, more sense it made to him. Aside from your short frame and your beautiful little face —focus, Frankie, this ain't about that—, your explosive personality and your obsession over you being too weak or small kind of gave it away. It actually made sense. It was true.

He went that same day —after the night of your encounter with that fucker— to check on you to the infirmary. He wanted to know how were you doing, and he wanted to hear from you the truth of all the scene those guys were making over you. He was told you weren't conscious yet, but he stayed nonetheless —grabbed a chair and sat beside your bed.

He grabbed your hand softly in his, examining your broken knuckles and bloodied skin. He should have known better than to leave you alone like that in the shower stalls. He should have been with you. He should have protected you, like he had told himself he would. 

"I'm sorry", he whispered.

Distant voices woke you up. A female one and two males. You couldn't make out what they were saying, but you didn't need to. You remembered everything pretty well.

You tried to stretch yourself, despite the way your face was hurting terribly. Still, you couldn't move one of your arms. Your hand was being held by another.

You opened your eyes and saw Frankie sitting beside you, his hand holding yours even with his eyes closed. As soon as he felt you move, he opened them and sat up, staring into your eyes.

"Oh god", he breathed out. A smile played on his lips as he examined you. "You okay?".

His question made you laugh.

"Well, I've been better", you smiled at him. "But I'll survive", you looked around. "How long have I been...?".

"Four days. Well, three and a half", he swiped his thumb over the back of your hand, you figured involuntarily. "They've been taking good care of you".

"I bet...", you looked down at his hand on yours. Frankie pulled away as soon as he saw you do it.

"Sorry—".

"No, it's okay", you were the one to grab his hand this time. "I don't mind...", you whispered that last part. Frankie tried to hold back his own smile. Then something he remembered made it go away as soon as it had come. "What?", you stared into his eyes. He kept swiping his thumb small soothing circles on the back of your hand.

"Will you tell me—", he paused to breathe; "What's the deal with you?".

"What do you mean—".

"I know you lied to me, Lost", he tried to keep it cool, but his eyes gave away how mad he was at you for not having told him the truth and having gotten in so much trouble because of it. "I... I already know... a bit of it, but—".

You turned around to try and find the asshole that had shattered your face, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"They moved him a block away from here", he answered even before you could ask. "He still had the chance to spread the rumor, though". 

"Shit", you whispered to yourself. You looked down, biting your downer lip and trying to stop your own tears from coming out, trying to ignore the stinging pain in your face.

"Hey", he grabbed your chin softly, careful not to hurt you more than you already were, and made you look at him. "Tell me what's wrong", he spoke slowly. "Whatever it is, I don't care. It'll still be you no matter what", he caught a tear halfway down your face, his skin grazing lightly against yours. You took a deep breath.

"A... couple years ago... I had someone really close to me", you sniffed. "I... He got me... pregnant... And...", you dried off your tears. "I didn't want... I couldn't..." you took a shaky deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "He also tried to... run away...", you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "He was into drugs... and was told to move... Without telling me...", you sighed in an attempt to ignore the way your breathing was starting to get heavy and your chest was starting to hurt. "I couldn't take it anymore", you sniffled again and looked away from Frankie, unable to maintain your eyes on his piercing look. "I shot him. And...", you lifted your shirt just enough to reveal a big scar that went across your stomach. "I shot the baby, too", your voice broke.

"Oh, Lost", he reached out to grab and hug you. "I'm so sorry", he rubbed your back, trying to calm you down a little. You held tight onto him, squeezing him as close to you as you could.

He kept you in his arms for a while as you cried out your grief. Everything made more sense after you told him the truth. He finally felt like he understood you, really understood you and your feelings. And he finally felt like his feelings were resolved, just like yours.

He had to leave when some cops came to interrogate you about what had happened in the shower stalls a few days ago, but he promised to come back to see you that night. In the meantime, you answered the cops' questions and tried to rest as well as your pain allowed you to.

You got out of bed a week after that. The first thing you did was hug Frankie, since he was waiting outside the infirmary. He took you to your cell, staying by your side and not walking more than two steps away from you. Everyone was looking at you either with a weirded out expression or with hungry eyes. As soon as you noticed, you got even closer to Frankie.

That was the moment you gave up on trying not to look small or weak. Every single man on that prison was now trying to fuck you or fuck you up. Damn, you had never felt so vulnerable.

Good thing I have my brick wall over here, you thought.

Frankie could see the looks the other inmates gave you, and the ones you gave them. If he felt like he had to protect you before, now he felt even more responsible —especially since he had let that motherfucker beat you like that. He felt guilty, and even though you tried to tell him it wasn't his fault he couldn't get that thought out of his mind.

"Look at me", you grabbed his jaw, making him look at you, just like he had down a week before when you were still in that bed in the infirmary —though this time you were in your bed. "It wasn't your fault. I told you it was my problem and that I'd deal with it, and so I did".

"I know", he stared into your eyes. "But if I had done something, if I had gone talk to him or—".

"You couldn't, Frankie", you tightened your grip on his jaw. "Look, he had threatened to tell everyone if he found out I told you anything. It would've happened sooner or later, I just exploded when he asked me to do that with he and his men", you let go of him. "Think about it this way —if you hadn't come just in time to stop him from beating me to death, I wouldn't be here right now", you patted his thigh. "So you saved me anyway. And I also got you to keep me away from those creeps", you both laughed at that.

"I guess you're right", he sighed. "Still sorry".

"Didn't I just tell you not to be?", you crossed your arms and stared into his eyes with a frown. He couldn't help the smile that crept on his lips.

"But I still am", he crossed his arms as well. "What, am I not allowed to be?".

"Not if I tell you not to be".

"Ooh, getting bossy", he chuckled. "I like that".

"Okay, now you're acting like one of those freaks out there".

"Come on, y'know I'm not like—".

"Shut up, old man".

You grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss. A slow, passionate, nice kiss. Frankie stayed still for a moment before replying with just as much passion. You then pulled away to look into his eyes. You were both smiling.

"Wow", he whispered. "Didn't think you'd take the lead".

"Well, someone had to, and you didn't seem to be going to, so...", you grabbed his hand. "I couldn't bear the sexual tension anymore".

"Oh, sexual tension?", he rolled on top of you. "We can fix that...".

"No! Gross! Get away!", you laughed and pulled him off of you.

"Why?" he approached again, leaning down to leave a trail of small kisses down your neck. "I wanna...".

"Frankie, no", you pulled him off again, this time with a serious look on your face. Frankie's smirk was immediately deleted when he saw you, and seemed to be asking for an explanation. "I... I can't", you looked down. "Not like this, I'm... not ready", you cleared your throat before looking back up at him.

"M'kay", he grabbed your hand once more. "We won't do anythin' you don't wanna".

You smiled at him, thankful. He understood that you needed space and you weren't ready yet to show him that part of you. And he would respect you and your decision not to. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable, make you push him away from you. So he put it back in his pants and gave you a comforting smile.

He stuck with you all the time, by your side, not daring to leave you alone. Whenever some guy would look at you with a weird face, he gave him a warning look —or push him away from you both. He didn't let anyone other than the cops get close to you, which you thanked him for in multiple occasions. For once in a long, long time, you weren't afraid of being too small or weak. You weren't worried about your looks anymore. You weren't worried about anything with Frankie beside you. He was your only reason to want to keep going despite being in a place such as that damned prison. The only reason why you wanted to keep going at all.

The only reason why you preferred spending twenty years in prison before being back out in that shitty world.

[zanebuttumbler]

jd heathers agere thought perhaps

part of an au where he only attempted to kill heather, kurt and ram and where the bomb only left him with a missing leg (very much inspired from a fanfiction)

jason doesnt regress a ton—he doesn't really consider himself jd anymore because all it does is remind him of his dad. but it happened a lot during the timeline the show took place in. very discreetly though. you wouldn't be able to spot it unless you're actively looking for it and, with it being the 80s, that's very unlikely.

he will often find himself curled up in bed at the end of the night, his head all fuzzy and clouded from the day, usually reading a simple book. at the minute, he's been reading "are you there god? it's me, margaret.". a bit of a walk in the park compared to the other stuff he reads but that's why he likes it. it gives him a break from his own world, it being a gentle reprieve from his own life.

it helps turn his brain off at night. or at least, it makes things smaller and for the first time in a long time, he doesn't have the words to describe his emotions. he was considered very emotionally smart by all the shrinks he used to see after his mom died and it was a fact he carried with pride for a long time but he's not too sure about that anymore.

now, he forgets about that, choosing to focus on the simplicity of the book and eventually falling asleep with the pages still being held between his fingers and the last thing he hears being his own breathing.

however, sometimes, he finds himself in bed at night silently crying and holding his childhood stuffed bear close to him. he vaguely remembers how he had gotten it. he was four years old, he thinks it was sometime in october, and his mother had taken him to the grocery store. he remembers freaking out about something and to soothe his tantrum, his mom let him pick something from the toy aisle. a stupid choice in his opinion but who was he to judge her parenting. this bear was the first thing he spotted and he carried through the rest of the store with a smile on his face. one thing he clearly remembers is buckling janice—he named her after his favourite muppet—into the seat next to him on the ride home.

years have passed and he still keeps janice in his bedroom. he can't seem to part with her. it's hidden under his bed though. he couldn't risk veronica seeing her. or his dad. lord knows what would happen if his dad saw her. he still keeps her because she helps him think of his mama. he misses his mama a lot. on nights like these, he tends to think of her a lot. think about her running her fingers through his hair, her arms wrapping him in a hug, falling asleep on her chest as she watched her shows, her cooking that was a little gross in retrospect but he longs for its flavour again, her soft curls he'd twirl in his fingers at bedtime, her. her presence often felt like a safe haven from the world that was forever unforgiving and cruel. even if, at the time, the peak of cruel was getting pushed at recess.

he just thinks about her and for a brief moment, he isn't jd, bud dean's little psychopath of a son that tried to kill an entire school. instead, he's jason. his mama's little boy.

in moments like these, he imagines her. or at least he tries to. it's getting harder these days and that thought scares him a lot. he curls up the blankets close to his chin and imagines it's her arms, holding him close to her chest and insisting that it's bedtime now and he should get some rest for a big day tomorrow. janice is now the link between the two. he occasionally feels bad leaving her underneath the bed all the time. he pictures she feels the way he does. abandoned by the one person who was meant to love her.

he knows tomorrow will come. another day in the cut-throat society of mega bitches and future mickey d's cashiers. another day without her. another day of her memory fading away. but for now, he lets himself sink in the memories of his childhood. and if veronica sees the dried tear tracks on his cheeks the next day, she doesn't say anything.

[dnickels]

imagine I entitled the post GOD SEES YOU in all caps but then chickened out because I am too afraid to fly. So: onto the kind of post one makes when one's special man has fifteen minutes of screentime:: meaningful stares and lack thereof

Anyways, on the subject of things that are basically, essentially, almost but not actually text, I am haunted forever by that one reddit post along the lines of "wait, people think Irving is gay?" and the handful of responses that amount to "I don't see it". I have to remind myself that "this is not the eye contact of a man secure and confident in his love for women" is not textual evidence, but I think its significant and enriching to note nonetheless! It's an intriguing performance. Take for example, confronting Mr. Hickey about Gibson's accusation. Mr. Raftery comes in really strong, lots of direct nonblinking accusation-- compare this to earlier, when he surprises them in the hold, and spends half the time glaring but turns and looks pointedly away when it gets to be too much. He's making direct, inescapable eye contact when bringing the hammer down-- hellfire, cat o' nines, the works-- and then when suggesting the remedy he looks away. It's not until Hickey points up the oddness of the suggestions (cold showers and vigorous exercise are the usual prescriptions) that he snaps back, speaking for a higher authority. God sees you, I see you. (all this after we learned that Hickey watches Irving, presumably as he watches everyone, taking careful notes). It's that moment of wavering that takes it out of the realm of plausible deniability (youth pastor naiveté, Christian forbearance, monkish self-discipline) to an accidental tacit admission. He goes off-script, shares something personal and reveals a little too much.

I was looking back through Irving's roughly fifteen minutes of screentime (my boy...) and we do see a little more of this-- in the meetings where he's staring out into the fourth dimension, or looking down at his sheet making the report. There's a really interesting moment when he's yelling at Manson (boy if you don't get in that got-damn dead room) when the camera takes a wide shot and he's looking straight down at his boots-- "I'm going to order you down that ladder now..."-- and when we cut back he's right back on him. He's clearly not intimidated by poor Manson, but its interesting that he can't look him in the face when he brings up the flogging. Embarrassed for him? Embarrassed in general? I always took that meaningful cut of Irving staring into the middle distance when Hickey is charged with 'dirtiness' as the directors confirming he told Crozier what he knows, but I guess its not literally text. Even so! He clearly feels deeply over it, and doesn't want it to happen again (selfishly, I imagine), even if what he suggests is more cruel psychologically. The whole scene is interesting, it really makes me wish we had at least one other season to flesh out these characters. Irving staggers in, clearly struggling with the off-kilter ship in the way no one else in the scene is. He almost seems drunk. The script suggests he's feeling the strain of their situation, but doesn't give much more insight other than the visual language. I do think its worth noting he comes rushing in when Manson starts refusing-- someone posted a clip earlier of the near-riot when HIckey et al (including, again, Manson) go out and capture Lady Silence, and he is freaking out. Presumably the order of events while Crozier is in his room having a sulk/flashback is that the hubbub kicks out and Irving runs out to get a look (with the other lieutenants, presumably, its hard for me to tell but I don't see Hodge or Little, I think Fitzjames is still standing there) and tries to calm things down but is totally unable to regain control-- is that him yelling "get the Captain"? I think it is, and he is freaaaaaaking out. That, presumably, is why he comes down so hard on Manson when it looks like he's going to buck an order, and why Irving makes that incredible face when Hickey oils in to save him before fleeing. Sorry Tom Hartnell, its up to you now! I'm scared and want to go home!

Which is getting away from my point, when is the direct eye contact-- very meaningful to me that as he dies, lungs deflating and unable to give voice to his rage, he stares up at Hickey as long as he can. I see you. I see you clearly at last.

(TL:DR we love actors who give thematic resonance in all their choices, especially whem one portrays Spyglass Guy. hats off Mr Raftery!)

[poetpony6890]

The twins

When Izzy told Simon she was pregnant, he freaked out. Of course as he always did, he tried to be cool about it, kept himself calm, waited until she went down for a nap, then ran over to Alec’s. Sobbing, panicking.

9 months later, the impending doom took place, and out came two blood covered babes. A girl and a boy. Phoebe and Levi. He watched as Catarina cut their cords, cleaned them, bundled them up, got a cloth for Simon so he could wipe the sticky sweat from Izzys forehead. Finally he got to hold one of them, Phoebe.

As babes do when born, she screamed, sobbed, yearned for her shared womb.

As Simon sat down in the rocking chair, held her in his arms, shushed her softly, her eyes opened. It was the eyes he had been staring into his whole life. The ones he glared at in the mirror, the chestnut glimmered.

“Hi, my baby.” He greeted, her crying subsided, then as she stared back at him, she giggled.

The constant worry he had been feeling for months suddenly cleared it self out in seconds.

Many, Many diapers later, Izzy finally had the chance to go on vacation. Leaving Simon alone with two year olds

Two two year olds. One of which was dealing with an ear infection and the other just plain trouble.

“stop!!” Levi shouts, pushing his twin sister off of him. Causing her to fall and sob dramatically.

“Phebs, if you keep putting your finger in his ear it’s never going to get any better.” Simon states.

“Pffft.” Pheobe blew, passing her empty juice box back to her father, then allowing her self to be picked up.

“Come on, Levi. You can finish your juice box tomorrow.” Simon soothes,grabbing the apple juice and placing it back on the door of the fridge. He then picks up his son and brings them into the bathroom.

“Teeth?” Levi asks, Simon nodded as he ran his Spider-Man toothbrush under the water, then handed it to him. Then his sisters strawberry shortcake one next, handing it to her as well. He then got his own and did the same. He grabbed the watermelon toothpaste and gave both twins a dolop, then his adult toothpaste from the drawer and did his as well. Aiming her toothpaste at her brother, Phoebe was stopped by Simon.

“In your mouth, not on your brother.” He scolded as she plopped it into her gums. Both twins sloppily brushed.

After reading green eggs and ham, the very hungry caterpillar, I love you forever and oh the places you’ll go, Phoebe and Levi were finally slumped out on Simon’s chest.

The thing that had caused Simon to worry the most, was that he wasn’t going to be a good father. No matter how many times his friend and family told him he would be great he never believed it.

He didn’t have a father of his own for very long, he wasn’t sure he knew what to do.

“I love you both.” Simon says as he kisses both twins on their soft foreheads.

“I wuv you too, dada.I no wish other dada, ever.” Levi says as he smiles. Most of that was babble, but Simon got the message, he brushed his hand over his back.His sister wiggled up to play with Simons hair.

“I wanna dragon. I give you to da dragon.” Phoebe declared.

“Oh, alright. I won’t take it personally.” Simon jokes, pulling up the fur blanket to cover them all.

“You should.” Phoebe replies, kissing his forehead before she lays down on his chest for the night.