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ki-yomii · 9 months ago

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baby, don't go | myg

➥pairing | ex!min yoongi x f!reader, mentioned f!reader x omc ➥word count | 5.1k ➥warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, squirting, hand job, finger fucking, porn w/ plot, angst w/ a happy ending, alcohol, exes to lovers, implied cheating (omc is a fuckboy), implied getting back together (reader & yoongi still low key love each other), idol!yoongi ➥summary | "hii can I request for an exes to lovers trope with yoongi 😭💖 lovee your ficss" you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you. thankfully your ex Yoongi is more than happy to distract you. ➥notes | hope you enjoy this anon 😘💚 omc & ofc are named after characters from one of my favourite k-dramas (personal taste iykyk)

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Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Standing beside you, your friend Kae-In takes a swig of whatever's in her cup - a sickly sweet concoction of fruity soju and Chilsung, most likely - and coolly surveys the backyard.

Small groups of people dot the manicured lawn, others lounging by the fire as they catch up with one another. It's been far too long since everyone's schedules aligned like this.

Years in fact, and there are several who came in from out of town.

Ordinarily you'd be over the moon, but as it were you can barely drum up enough false excitement for your best friend. Let alone others you haven't seen in forever.

Cocking her hip, Kae-In puckers her mouth. "The alcohol isn't even that good." She sighs, pretty face scrunching in disappointment. "Some party this is turning out to be."

Your hard cider, still more than half-full, hides an awkward, ill-fitting smile.

Having nursed your own drink for the last hour, whatever might've been enjoyable about it is long gone. Any refreshing coolness and bright, punchy taste replaced by amber liquid far past room temperature in your clammy palm.

In fact, the fizzy warmth and tart aftertaste of moldering apples turns your stomach with every half-hearted sip.

"At least there's cute guys here - some of them have really grown up."

Her breath ruffles the fringe of her bangs when she huffs, casting an eye to the glass bottle strangled in your grip.

"Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine - gotta be the DD just in case, y'know?"

"Girl, you're ALWAYS the DD. C'mon, you gotta live a little sometimes."

The nonchalant scolding stings, even if it's meant almost entirely in jest but it's not Kae-In's fault. She doesn't know. No one does. You couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth.

Not yet.

It's still too fresh. The wound too raw to go poking around with clumsy fingers.

"Don't be like that," you say with a faltering smile. "I'm having fun."

LIAR.

In actuality, you're a few frayed threads away from snapping. Stuck clinging to the edge of sanity by the fingernails as you battle back tides of crippling grief and blinding rage.

Have been since the first few messages came rolling in; questions with videos attached. There's a part of you grateful they reached out, while another altogether wishes you hadn't seen.

At least not until morning.

Would one more night spent in ignorant bliss have been too much to ask for?

Now you're riding a corkscrew of emotion, one that roils and chafes as ceaseless images parade past your eyelids with every blink. Each one as crisp and clear as the first time you pressed play.

The swirling lights, the heady thrum of bodies. A darkened corner. Your boyfriend of three years who said he couldn't make it. His hand sneaking beneath the hem of a cheap, glittery skirt. The dip of his head as he tucks into the curve of a neck, mouth open and smiling against bare skin.

You shudder, stomach rebelling. When you swallow, it's like trying to down buckets of sand.

Kae-In, none the wiser, flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Well, that makes one of us. I guess." Shrugging, she turns to you and asks with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... a little off."

Panic grabs you by the throat.

This was supposed to be a night full of fun and laughter. You're not supposed to be suffocating in a crowded backyard. On the brink of tears and trying to act like your life hasn't imploded.

Alone - by your own doing, which is even worse - to deal with the crushing weight of an inevitable breakup. The painful extrication of two lives entwined.

How a relationship three years in the making can be shattered in a minute and forty-five seconds is mind boggling. You had it all, and now...

You thought you were going to marry him.

The whiplash of it all almost makes you laugh but only so you don't break down in great, heaving sobs. A heartbreak you're not sure you'll ever recover from. Not for the loss of him but rather the decimation of your trust.

"I'm okay, promise! No need to worry."

The lie weighs heavy on your tongue. Tastes of ash as the words you really want to say hover in the back of your throat, a breath away. Only they can't make it past your lips, stuck to your teeth like hard candy.

"It's just been one of those days."

Your shoulders shoot towards your ears when she hums in response. Fingernails picking at the corner of the sweating cider label so you don't have to meet Kae-In's piercing gaze. You know she can see right through you, and you hate it.

What started as a fun night of planned mayhem turned into desperate distractions though this party has done very little in terms of brightening your mood.

Instead, watching everyone you know have a good time while you stand on the side lines, a stranger in a sea of people, feels more akin to rubbing salt in an open wound.

Miserable but acting like you’re not; waves of bitter loneliness threatening to pull you under because you don’t want to ruin the night.

“Is this because Chang-ryul couldn’t make it?” Kae-In pats your back sympathetically. “What bullshit excuse did he give you this time? I swear, he always does this. Just wait. I’m gonna hit him next time I see him.”

Oh, you don’t even know, you think. You’ll definitely want to do more than hit him.

Your heart throbs at the sound of his name, and isn’t that funny? Such a simple thing - nothing but syllables and letters strung together - and yet it has the power to unmake you completely.

Your tongue swells as you struggle to swallow. Words burn like bile as you force out a laugh; brittle, scraped up from the depths of your chest

“I’d pay to see that,” you croak. Your knuckles ache from how tightly you’re gripping the bottle. “But - no. C-Chang-ryul has nothing to do with it.”

You hate that you stutter over his name.

And perhaps that’s why you don’t want to tell Kae-In just yet.

She’s always hated him.

Always said he was no good. Just another fuckboy looking for beds to warm and hearts to break. And she’s right.

God, why does she have to be right?

You know she’d never hold it over you, but the thought of admitting it - out loud - makes you want to vomit all over your shoes. You need time to stitch your edges back together. Too raw and ragged.

You only just found out.

Your pride can’t handle any more hits right now.

She thumbs her nose with an inelegant snort. “Whatever you say. I could take him in a fight. That boy ain’t shit.”

Your laugh startles you - the first genuine one of the evening - and you shake your head fondly. A soft smile tugs at your lips.

“Oh, no doubt. But really, I’ve just been in a weird mood.”

The twist of her lips shows she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but she’s kind enough not to press. Instead, she spends the next while distracting you with tales of her various escapades of the week.

And it helps for a time, truly.

But then you feel a buzz against your thigh, a ding echoing up from your pocket. Your stomach turns to lead, drops to your feet. Without looking at the screen, you pull the cell out of your pocket with shaky hands and quickly flick the ringer off.

Meanwhile, Kae-In watches silently with sharp eyes, and an even sharper frown though she declines to comment on your behavior.

“Anyway,” she continues once she has your attention, “as I was saying, did you see little Ji-Seok? Dude shot up like a tree! Last time I saw him he was as big as a bean sprout.”

You hum, worlds away.

“You could at least act like you’re paying attention,” she sucks her teeth before a smirk starts to slowly tug at her lips, “How about we talk about something - or someone - I know you’ll be interested in?”

Guilt sparks but slowly gives way to dread. You know that expression. Have gotten into trouble more times than you can count because of it.

Heart tattooing a rhythm against your rib cage, you sputter, “Oh no. No! Do not look at me like that.”

“C’mo-on!” she wheedles. “You’re absolutely right. We should be talking about,” she points at someone across the yard with her cup, “Yoongi instead.”

Currently leaning back against a stone wall making up part of the fence, Yoongi nurses a beer. Sticking out like a sore thumb now that he’s making it big as an idol, no longer as mundane as the rest of them.

Hushed whispers follow his every move, his bleached hair and flashy outfit commanding all sorts of covert attention.

The sharp cut of his shirt flatters his lean frame, the black leather jacket over top emphasizing the width of his shoulders. Dark jeans cling to his legs, as tight as a second skin, and causing your attention to stray where it shouldn’t.

And his eyes - oh, how you ever forgot is beyond you.

Dark, hooded, deep, and hungry; intense as they drag over the planes of your face like the caress of his fingers.

Shit.

You shove Kae-In’s hand down with a loud smack before she makes an even bigger fool out of you in front of another ex.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss. “That’s so rude!”

Not to mention embarrassing as fuck.

“Y’know,” she pauses to wiggle her brows and shoot you an impish grin, “I bet Yoongi would be more than happy to remind you of how rude he can be.”

You smother a groan in your hands, heartache temporarily forgotten. “I can’t believe you. Seriously. We’re no longer friends.”

“Bitch, you love me. And anyway, you know what I can’t believe?” She asks. “You!”

She gestures towards him again amid your flailing attempts to stop her. “Look at him. Like goddamn, you had it good.”

You take a sip of cider to give your hands something to do, nearly blanching at the warm liquid. Refusing to respond or look up as the topic of conversation watches like a hawk, gaze heavy.

How can he still make you weak-kneed after all this time?

He wasn’t even touching you and you still feel his presence down to your toes, setting your teeth on edge.

You hear your own heartbeat, your breathing shaky, sparks of awareness dancing along your spine. Heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.

“Knock it off, I’m serious.”

“No, when are you going to get that Chang-ryul isn’t good for you?”

You swallow roughly, all the moisture leaving your mouth.

“Yoongi was the best boyfriend you ever had and treated you the way you deserve. And you know he’s never been interested in anyone but you. Hell, he’s barely looked away from you since he got here and the break-up was years ago.”

You shift, perspiration breaking out on your brow. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“When will you give it up?” She blows a raspberry, shaking her head. “I know you regret how it went down between you guys. Now that he’s here - when you finally have a chance to make it right you just - just - ugh!”

Shooting her a weak half-smile and a shrug, you turn your attention to the small glowing fire pit.

Other’s are gathered around it, relishing in the glow of warmth that wars against the balmy summer breeze cutting through the air. Focusing on the dance and flicker of the flames is a needed moment of peace in entropy.

Though you know it isn’t going to last - not with a motormouth for a friend.

“So-o, what are you waiting for?”

“Sorry?”

She nods towards Yoongi subtly.

He’s finally busy with his own conversation, his gummy smile a quick flash of brightness. “When are you going to stick it to Chang-ryul and hop on that dick?”

“Oh my god!”

Kae-In shrugs. “What.”

“Don’t 'what' me. Seriously?”

A bony elbow digs between your ribs. You wheeze.

“C’mon,” she says, “You already know it’s good with him, and you deserve someone who’s there for you 110%. Someone who will treat you right. You know I worry about you.”

A wave of emotions threatens to completely drown you in that moment, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Her tender concern - her care - feels altogether too much and not enough.

As overwhelming as a tsunami; your heart a raw, exposed nerve.

All you’ve ever wanted was to be loved.

To feel like someone’s first and only choice.

You used to think Chang-ryul was someone who could provide that. What a fool you’ve been. Men like him don’t fall in love, they only pretend to.

They sneak inside your heart and take what they want from your bed. To him, you’re nothing but a fun little stop; a footnote, read and forgotten.

Your heart squeezes, shuddering from a pain your palm can’t soothe away.

It’s a terrible idea.

But maybe…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lick your wounds with someone you know cares about you. Has always cared about you, and probably always will.

Clearing your throat, you consider his profile from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi's always made you feel wanted. Looked after you as though you were something rare and precious.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that.

Somehow, some way, he senses you looking because he pauses mid-sentence.

Turns to meet you head-on, tracing your face with what can only be called greed. Stopping short when they catch on the lip trapped between your teeth.

Something akin to hunger cuts across his face.

His brows dip low, a palpable heat flooding the inky depths of his eyes. Shadows deepen the lines of his face, the shifting firelight highlighting the flex of a jawline for days, burning halo gold in his hair.

It’s a look you’re intimately familiar with.

Usually preceding a hand-shaking, mind-numbing fuck session where his cock gets as deep as it can, rutting hard and fast, bringing you over the edge again and again until you’re left a wrecked mess.

Your heart jumps, gallops headlong into a rapid beat.

You feel the rush of blood in your chest, every breath stuttered, stomach lurching. Shaking. Jittery. Tongue tied in a thousand knots and you haven’t even said a word.

It was much easier to pretend you weren’t so magnetically drawn to Yoongi when you weren’t riding the single’s train. When he was away in Seoul chasing after his dreams.

Now that he’s got downtime and your relationship has hit a brick wall? His mere presence sears you to the bone. Drags you in like a black hole.

And that?

So not good.

Swallowing roughly, you tear your attention away. You’d forgotten how intense and blindly bright he can be.

There’s a throb developing in your temple, sharp little darts of pain lancing through your skull. An impending headache if you don’t get some air that doesn’t taste like wood-smoke and cheap alcohol.

“I think I’m gonna head in for a bit. Need to get away.”

You shake your head and toss your bottle into the bin on the way inside, Kae-In shouting her acknowledgement with a thumbs up. Makes you promise to contact her in case of any change in plans.

Nearly everyone’s outside so it should be less crowded, more quiet. Most importantly, away from Yoongi and that penetrating stare which makes you more flustered than you care to admit.

Alas, the kitchen isn’t empty not for long.

You’re lounging against the counter, elbows bent, head rolled back and stinging eyes closed when the back door creaks open. Biting off a groan, you swivel your head to the side.

When you see it’s Yoongi who follows you in, you almost slip and brain yourself on the tile. Mouth dry, palms sweaty, heart beating out of control; scrambling into a more flattering posture while patting down your hair.

He chuckles, his nose scrunched and smile coy.

Seeing him happy always makes you tender, weak.

It seems that hasn’t changed a bit.

No amount of pictures or videos do it justice. Granted, Yoongi looks good any time, any day. But seeing his whole face light up like that in person? Utterly priceless.

It’s a struggle to breathe properly around the lump forming in your throat.

Of course, it has to be him.

Wiping your palms off on your thighs, you greet him with an awkward wave, “Uhhh, hey - hey there, Yoongi.”

Oh my god. Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.

“Y’know what,” you say, “I was just about to head back outside…”

As you pass by, he catches your arm.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, callouses dragging across your pulse. Your gut clenches, an unexpected bloom of warmth shooting through your core at the sight of his broad palm holding you captive.

His grip is firm but loose enough that you could pull away.

All it serves to do is remind you of nights spent beneath his body, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the taste of him heavy on your tongue, pussy filled to the brim with cock. His rough voice music to your ears, prideful as he gloats about how well you’re taking him.

"Leaving so soon?” He asks silkily.

A hard tug sends you slamming into the wall of his chest.

Air rushes from your lungs, your hands trapped against his collarbones. Firm muscles contract beneath your palms, his body shoving into your touch.

Twisting your fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt, you look at him from beneath your lashes. Your voice whisper soft when you say, “Yoongi…”

His dark eyes, the colour of a rich espresso, track the path of your tongue as you wet your lips. Fingers drag over the soft line of your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse.

Touch feather light as it stops by the corner of your mouth, pressing down on the swell of your lip.

“I haven’t said hello yet.”

Eyes wide, all you do is watch and wait with baited breath. Stunned into silence at his proximity. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close, the smell of his expensive cologne nostalgic.

Your body recognizes his, responding all the same. The connection between you electric, overwhelmingly so.

His head bows, bleached strands brushing your forehead. The tip of his nose rubs yours. You get lost in counting his eyelashes, tracing the bridge of his nose to the carved slope of his cheeks.

Surrounded by him, the urge to resist what’s happening is nearly non-existent. Though you wish it wasn’t so easy to be caught by him.

“One of the guys said something interesting,” he says, his breath ghosting across your face; mint and beer. “It's about you actually.”

He flashes the smile that sends your heart soaring, your stomach flipping.

The slightest peek of a metal chain resting in the crook of his neck, surrounded by a very tempting patch of skin you want to taste, has you a little dumbfounded, absentminded.

“Oh?”

You really hope you don’t sound as frazzled as you feel but the haughty superiority of his slow appraisal of your body, the cocksure smirk on his lips states otherwise.

You really wish you could knock him down a peg but confidence looks amazing on him.

Always has.

“They said you have a boyfriend now. Is that true?”

You manage the slightest shake of your head in the negative - no, not anymore - your heart thundering in your ears.

Your breath catches in anticipation just before Yoongi closes the remaining inches between you with a hum of approval.

His head tilts to the side as he slots your mouths together in a kiss that’s got your toes curling. A filthy wet slide of lips, his the slightest bit chapped, send you under, liquid warmth filling your belly.

You inhale sharply, a moan vibrating against his lips.

Melting into the cage of his arms as his hands clamp down on your hips possessively, tugging you closer. Pressed stem to stern like this there’s no hiding the evidence of his desire.

He’s already half-hard in his jeans, his erection pressing against the zipper.

His eyes are hooded when he pulls away.

“Wanna take this somewhere a little more private, baby?” Yoongi asks, running his nose up the length of your neck and inhaling.

How is this my life, you think, dazed.

His hips grind forward against you so there’s no mistaking what you’re dealing with. “It’ll be just like old times.”

After an awkward fumble and an elbow to the side, you settle on the downstairs bathroom. He follows, quickly pinning you to the door while struggling to toss his leather jacket over the sink.

With a flick of the lock, you’re finally alone without any possible interruption. The door muffles most of the ruckus outside, leaving you hyper aware of every hurried breath, every low-throated murmur.

For a long while it’s nothing but a mess of lips, his body molding to yours. Easy to fall back into the old rhythms of your relationship as though you never left it.

He holds you down.

His fingers in your hair, on your jaw. His tongue gliding over your lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide back out through his teeth.

You meet him kiss for kiss, your hands finding their way into his back pockets, tugging, groping, loving how he bucks up into the cradle of your hips in response.

A sweet ache settles low and deep.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. “Fuck, I forgot how much you like to tease.”

His thumb circles your nipple through your shirt, teasing it into a sensitive, stiff peak that shows through the thin fabric.

The caresses send soft pulses straight to your clit, the intensity getting stronger and stronger the rougher he is.

Before long, you’re aware of how achingly empty you are.

Yoongi nips the corner of your jaw.

“Never forgot how fun teasing you is,” he murmurs into the silk of your skin. “How wet you get for me.”

“Shit, you can’t just say something like that.”

“Can’t I?” His laugh, genuine and vibrant, sounds through his chest and into yours. “You can bitch all you want, but I know you love it.”

A smile, all teeth.

“Isn’t that right, baby?”

You glare at him weakly through half lidded eyes.

Two can play that game.

“Fuck!” Yoongi bites out, those impossibly dark eyes sliding shut when you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

His breath whooshes from him in a loud exhale, his jaw working back and forth. “That’s cheating.”

You smirk, feeling him throb in your hand.

”What were you saying, Yoongs?” Humming, you rub your chest against his, using a fingertip to trace the outline of his shaft. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Spearing you with a weighted look, Yoongi shoves you back into the door harder than before, the wood creaking under the pressure. Fist resting on the frame next to your head, his body cages you in.

Every shuddered inhale has the planes of his firm chest pressing into yours with the expansion of his lungs. His hips buck up into the softness of your palm with a grunt.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” he cautions.

Competitiveness is a gift and a curse.

Not one to be outdone, you brush away any lingering reservations - which being honest, there weren’t many left. His relieved groan when you tug out his cock reverberates through you.

Shit, that’s so unfair.

Yoongi already sounds wrecked yet you’ve barely touched him. How the fuck are you going to get through this without completely combusting when he actually cums?

Thinking that maybe focusing on what you’re doing will help, you look down.

Big mistake.

Dark designer jeans circle his thighs, low enough for his cock to spring free.

Flushed, curved towards his belly, the head swollen and sticky with pre-cum. The shaft a decent handful that pulses when your palm skims the side.

Feminine appreciation at the sight has velvet heat pooling between your thighs, pussy clenching at the thought of him inside you.

Sex with him was always stupidly good.

All those veiled lyrics about his skill in the bedroom far too accurate for comfort.

Since you broke up, you haven’t been with anyone that comes close to his ability in getting you off.

He’s ruined you.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck with a low groan. His breath puffs across your skin, shivers racing down your spine.

Low voice full of grit, he says, “Shit, baby, that feels…”

Hot palms anchor themselves to your hips.

“Wait a sec,” he says, body twitching with aborted thrusts, strong fingers kneading. “Wanna do you too.”

Heart jumping, you let go of him long enough to yank your shirt over your head and kick off your pants before returning your hand to his cock.

In the meantime, he rucks his shirt up under his armpits. You can’t help but make a noise in the back of your throat as the length of his torso is exposed.

All that soft, smooth skin stretching over his stomach as he flexes. You have to fight down the urge to run your tongue along the outline of his hip.

Mouth slack, Yoongi pushes up the cups of your bra. Watches laser-focused on the bounce of your tits as they drop free, subtly swaying with every jerk of your wrist.

His hips fuck up into the circle of your hand while one of his own inches down to brush the crease of your thigh. Your hips tilt towards his touch, desperate for friction.

“Oh god.” He moans, calloused fingers dipping between your folds. “You’re so wet for me.”

You wiggle, whining against his lips as you meet in a messy kiss. His touch is light, gentle, barely there as he traces the length of your slit.

You’re trembling, skin too tight, body feverish. “Stop teasing, I want you inside me.”

Those seem to be the magic words because Yoongi gives a rumble of approval, using his thumb to spread slick over your swollen clit in tight circles.

Heat coils in your belly, electricity racing down your spine. Your thighs splay as wide as they can, making room for his hand.

His knuckles brush your skin.

Dipping down to your entrance, Yoongi works on spreading you open with shallow thrusts until you take three fingers comfortably.

Your needy sighs and soft moans bounce off the walls.

His low murmurs right in your ear as the pads stroke your walls, his wrist flexing. He’s hitting all the right spots, still remembering how to get you off years after the fact.

You’re quickly turning weak-kneed and wet eyed.

“Fuck, Yoongs, right there,” you keen, baring down on the digits nudging your g-spot, your grip tightening around his shaft.

You grind your palm over the swollen tip, gathering beads of pre-cum.

He hisses, thrusts off beat.

Fingers nudge up suddenly, pressing deep and holding in retaliation. White lightening crackles behind your eyelids, thighs twitching, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty girl.”

Your world narrows down to every filthy slide of his cock in your hand, every gush of slick as he stuffs fingers into you over and over again until you’re a writhing mess against the door.

Your nerve endings are alive with pleasure, the stimulation too much and not enough.

“Please, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, doubling his efforts, wrist working faster.

Dapples of sweat litter his brow, his eyes staring into yours, glazed over and lusting.

Fuck, he’s handsome like this.

It’s a little embarrassing how bad he’s got you but between the blissed-out expression he’s wearing, the weight of him in your hand, and how full you are, you know this orgasm is going to be quick, messy.

The pace of his hips pick up, his breath hitching in his throat, length twitching and thickening in your grip.

He’s getting close, his touch rougher, more force behind the snapping thrusts of his hips, teeth nipping at the side of your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you say, breathless, twisting your hand on the upstroke. He smothers a grunt in your shoulder. “Give it to me.”

It doesn’t take much more to bring him to the edge.

A particular spread of his fingers has you jolting, a sudden, intense spike of pleasure shooting right to your clit.

In turn, you unintentionally massage his cock, knuckles bumping the underside of the swollen head.

He’s a goner.

Cumming with a low, wounded whine and a shuttered thrust, Yoongi smacks the door with his free hand. Thick spurts of jizz make an absolute mess of his stomach and your knuckles.

Sagging forward like a doll with cut strings, all his dead weight bears down on you.

He pants, small tremors wrack his frame. “Baby,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I missed you s’much.”

“Missed you too,” you reply, using nice, languid strokes to wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “More than I thought I did.”

In lieu of a response, Yoongi wiggles his fingers inside you, rebuilding the rhythm he lost. He flutters them, curls up against your walls, peppering kisses along the length of your jaw with a hum.

Slick drips down his wrist, the sloppy sound of him finger fucking your cunt blending with a surge of desperate moans.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Yoongi says against your chin. “So fucking hot, wanna see you cum.”

Your back arches, your fingers digging into the width of his shoulders, head smacking the door with a dull thud.

“Can you do that for me?”

Nodding frantically, you fall apart with a broken gasp. Clamping down so hard he can’t move, the cramps softened by the throbbing heat washing over you. Blood rushes in your ears as your pussy gushes around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, tone heated. “You did so well for me.”

By the time your brain comes back online, you’ve forgotten all about Chang-ryul and the constant vibration of your phone where it’s shoved - forgotten - into your pocket.

The only thing that matters is Yoongi with his tender kisses and greedy hands.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #min yoongi x reader #yoongi #min yoongi x you #bts min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts fanfic

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yourlittlebunnyy · 4 months ago

Text

try again -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: after a fight in the Night Court, Y/n seek refuge in the Spring Court where she finds a old lover again.

warnings: ofc none

w/c: 5k

enjoy🎀

"Are you telling me you want Feyre to destroy an entire Court-of allies against Hybern, dammit-just because of a love affair gone wrong?"

Right now you don't care much about the consequences your words will cause you, and you certainly don't care that you are raising your voice to the High Lord of the Court of Night. Rhysand merely stares at you with glacial violet eyes, his stern face painted with total indifference. Here is the one you hate: not your friend, but the High Lord. The one who reserves glances of superiority for you and makes you feel stupid every time you open your mouth. But it is not he who answers you, but rather Cassian, always the first to put Rhysand before everyone, before even himself.

"Speak more respectfully to your High Lady." You cannot stop your face from contorting into a grin. The concept of High Lady was invented by Rhysand and has no real value, you think, now they're going to resent Tamlin for that too? Besides the fact that Feyre has no political experience, hell, she wasn't even a Fae until recently, how do they expect her to lead a Court?

Mor, as usual interested in putting straw on the fire, speaks in a honeyed voice, "Are you still pining for Tamlin, Y/n? We thought that time was over." You feel your cheeks go flaming with anger. You want to respond, but Azriel, always the pacifist in the countless confrontations you've had with your friends, gets in the way. The blonde doesn't seem to relent even when the winged male tells her to stop, and your face shifts to Rhysand, who sits in his study chair settling more comfortably on the backrest, enjoying the show. There's no point in arguing, you think. You roll your eyes, and under everyone's gaze but without saying a word, you leave the room.

You love your family, but sometimes they really seem dumber than a goat. You are not a High Lady, no, and certainly your job does not include ruling a Court, but you know perfectly well too that whatever Feyre is doing is wrong. But you don't blame her: Rhysand can be persuasive, and probably the destruction of the Spring Court was more his idea than the Feyre's, he's still attached to events that happened five centuries ago.

You just don't understand, given the delicate period Prythian is going through, why tear down an entire Court. One more ally against Hybern. And above all, mixing politics and personal conflicts? Never a good idea. Not to mention Mor, and Rhysand's attitude. And... everything. You are tired, and with a sigh you walk out of the huge building and down the main street of Velaris, taking more time to think. Normally you would have winnoved in your apartment on the edge of town, but you feel the need to blow off some steam.

Too bad your little walk doesn't help, in fact. Seeing people so carefree and naive makes you see red, because they have that chance, and the rest of the Night Court doesn't. You've always tried to push the issue, trying to get as many women and children into Velaris as possible, but Rhysand has always been very firm about the rules. Slowly you realize that maybe they are not friends, or even family, as you allowed yourself to call them years ago. You don't share their choices, their ways, their governance. You don't share any thoughts. But you are stuck. Where could you possibly go?

You arrive home and the first thing you do is undress and prepare a hot bath. Once you are done, with only a towel you head into the small kitchen, determined to make yourself some tea and take a tonic to sleep, exhausted from this day.

At your table you find Azriel. That's right, you had forgotten that you now share an apartment with him. You greet him by calling his name, and he looks at you curiously, almost worriedly.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and you're not quite sure how to answer. Normally you are not so unhappy, but today's fight hit you hard. It has opened your eyes. Feyre, here for so little, is already more important than you. Not to mention how they make you feel inadequate and stupid, as if your opinion doesn't count for anything. You don't respond, not trusting your voice, and simply shrug. Azriel gets up and takes the tea-making supplies from your hands.

"I'll do it." He says kindly, and you murmur a thank you, and decide to get dressed in the meantime. When you return from your room, tea is poured into a steaming mug on the table.

"Two teaspoons of sugar, just the way you like it." This brings a smile back to your face, and you begin to sip the sweet liquid careful not to burn your tongue. "You can tell me what's going on, you know."

You think about it for a while before answering, but eventually decide that you have nothing to lose. "I don't want to be here anymore." Azriel looks at you surprised.

"Do you mean... in this apartment, or...?"

"No. I want to leave the Night Court. I don't want to work for Rhysand anymore, I'm exhausted." You sigh, and tears sting your eyes. Azriel looks at you sympathetically.

"Don't you feel at home anymore?" You shake your head, and are glad you confided in him. If anyone can understand you, it is certainly Azriel. He nods, silence takes over, and the only sound is the jarring sound of a teaspoon used to stir the tea, hoping to cool it slightly.

"Maybe you should leave, then." He says simply, his tone serene. You did not expect such a reaction, but you are grateful for it. A bitter laugh shakes your shoulders. "And where?"

Azriel shrugs. "Everywhere. Anywhere you want." I suppress his words by really considering it.

"What about Rhysand?"

"I could... help you." He says finally, and his words mean so much to you right now.

"Would you really do that?" He merely nods. "I ... thank you."

Not long after, the tea now cold and the cookies you kept inside the drawer now gone, the plan is decided. You will contact an old friend at the Spring Court, and ask her for refuge.

Azriel will accompany you to the edge of the Spring Court, helping you carry your things and offering emotional support.

"Are you sure this is the right choice? Feyre..." You nip his speech in the bud with a hand gesture. You've thought long and hard about where to go. But you have no contacts besides this friend in other Courts, and despite your history with Tamlin... you can do it.

"I'll come and see you, you know."

"I hope so."

"Will I ever know what happened between you and him?"

The question leaves you speechless, your body stiffens and you freeze for a moment, but you are quick to recover. You take a deep breath before speaking again.

"We loved each other. But then... Amarantha came and..." You don't say more than that, you don't explain further, but Azriel understands and doesn't ask questions.

"So...we'll see each other, yes?"

"Sure. I'm counting on it, Az." And with a final hug, you turn and enter the Court of Spring without looking back.

The first few weeks proceed slowly, but positively. You get up in the morning when the sun is already high in the sky, a warm breeze caressing your legs as you step out onto the small balcony with hot tea warming your hands. Your friend had to leave shortly after your arrival, and she will be back in who knows how long, leaving her home all to yourself. By now you have built a routine: you wake up and sip the sweet drink, you read until lunch, you cook, and in the afternoon you take care of chores. But your favorite activity so far has definitely been going to the local market. It is so different from how you remember.... And yet so much the same. The air of fear you felt because of Amarantha has ceased, though a small trickle of it remains because of Hybern. The stalls overflow with fruits and vegetables of all kinds, colors and scents. It makes you smile with familiarity every time you pass by.

Today you woke up determined to make some treats, but you are missing some ingredients, forcing you to go to the market. You quickly slip into one of your friend's clothes, and grab a picnic basket on your way out the door smiling. There is no doubt that you are happier now.

"Hi, honey! What can I get you today?" Alyna, a delightful female with whom you have bonded a lot these past weeks, greets you cheerfully.

"Hey, Aly! Um, could you make a mix of all the fruit?" You ask quietly, and the fae is quick to give you whatever you need. You admire the way she fiddles with her hands, but at the same time she's conversing with you-she's really good at everything, you think.

"So how are you finding yourself?"

"Great, really great. I'm really happy with my choice." She smiles at you as she helps you arrange the food in the basket. "I'm glad about that. Come see me for tea once in a while!"

"Of course, how much do I owe you?"

"Oh, dear, but don't worry!" After further insistence, she allows you to leave her a couple of gold coins. Much more than she actually needs, but she deserves it.

You opt to take another tour of the stalls before heading home. One in particular catches your eye, the colorful clothes too beautiful not to be admired. You are so busy running the pink fabric under your fingertips that you hardly recognize the voice next to you. Your body seems to do so before you even realize who the male next to you is. But then it's clear as day: the crisp, rainy, earthy scent, so unique and delicious.The blond hair and the broad warrior shoulders. It hasn't changed one bit. Your whole body is stiff, but you take a deep breath. You prepared for this moment; you knew you would see him again sooner or later.

Things between you and Tamlin did not end badly, but neither did they end well. It wasn't even a relationship you had: you barely had time to get to know each other and fall in love before Amarantha yanked him away from you. You suffered a long time for something that never even happened. But you know there won't be another chance like that: Tamlin has loved, no-loves Feyre with all of himself. He has moved on. And so have you, of course. But he will forever remain a crack in your heart.

The merchant's voice brings you back to reality. "Miss, are you interested in the dress?" You look at her wide-eyed, confused.

"Excuse me?" The sound of your voice makes the male, who has remained unaware of your presence until now, turn around.

"I was asking if you were interested in the dress."

"Y/n?"

"I, um. No, thank you. Sorry for wasting your time." Your tone is confused, you feel Tamlin's gaze burning your skin as he approaches. You feel his presence all over you.

"Don't worry, dear." The merchant walks away, leaving you alone with him.

"Y/n... what are you doing here?" For the first time in fifty years you allow yourself to look into his eyes, and it's as if the world is falling apart and rebuilding at the same time.

"Tamlin..." Tears wet your eyes as you try to show strength in front of the male you loved so strongly before. And who has now lost his mind for another female.

"What are you doing here?" The anger in his face, in his voice makes you take a step back.

"I-I ran away. I didn't fit in, and an old friend offered me to stay with her here." He lets out an annoyed snort.

"Of course, they didn't send you, did they?"

"No. I--there's something you need to know, Tamlin, about Feyre. I'm not in the habit of getting involved in matters that I don't-" He doesn't even let you finish the sentence.

"Feyre and I are just fine, and I won't let your Court get in the way one more time."

"No-"

"No, Y/n. You made your choice half a century ago when you chose him over me. Now I am making my choice. You better get out of my Court, you are no longer welcome."

And so, as he came so suddenly, he goes away, leaving you standing there like a fool. You compose yourself as best as you can and set out on your way home, tears flowing freely down your cheeks in the meantime.

You didn't bake anymore. As soon as you returned, you took a hot bath and a sleeping tonic, which has now become your trusted go-to solution. You woke up a few hours later, in the middle of the night, the effect of the tonic wearing off. Thoughts invaded your head, and it was only after hours of tossing and turning in bed and the sun coming up by now that you decided to write a letter to him. You get up and grab a pen and paper, your hands trembling with excitement. You cannot let Feyre find out about this, or your whole plan will be blown. You wish you had Azriel by your side to give you advice.

Dear Tamlin,

I apologize for making such an impetuous introduction to your Court, and especially without official notice. I wanted to let you know that I no longer work for the Night Court and have left of my own free will, but I have some important things to discuss with you, and they concern the security of your Court. I hope you can understand, and I hope to see you soon so we can talk about it. In case this does not happen, I hope to get you permission to reside in your territory, and I warn you not to trust those close to you.

Best regards,

Yours, Y/n.

With a sigh you close the letter and don't even wait for the sun to fully rise: you leave the house with a light cloak to cover you from the cool breeze and take the letter to the nearest village messenger.

The reply comes sooner than expected. It is simple and informal, and you sincerely hope that everything has gone according to plan and that it is not a trap set by Feyre, or worse, Rhysand himself.

Meet me at the market this afternoon after lunch.

Tamlin.

You reread the small sheet of paper a hundred times before getting ready. A way of nostalgia invades your senses one by one, but you chase it away violently. You don't have time for this. You must help him save himself and save his own court before it is too late.

"Y/n?" Tamlin notices you first as you wait for him at the same stall as last time. You turn quickly, so fast that you lose your balance and risk falling, but the male has quick reflexes and catches you before that can happen.

"You haven't changed a bit." His wry comment lightens the air around you, but it weighs down the burden in your chest that you feel. However, you do not give it away. You are here for a very specific reason, and you don't even know how much time you have left. You cannot be distracted by events that happened years and years ago.

"Tamlin." You greet him. "I'm here to warn you." You don't reveal everything right away; you're still trying to figure out if he would be willing to believe you or not. You know it's not easy for him. His expression turns cloudy, but he invites you to continue. You send down a knot in your throat before you speak again.

"It's about Feyre. I-I know it's hard to believe, but she didn't come back to you. Rhysand appointed her as High Lady, and you let her into your territory as a spy for the Night Court. She will destroy you, you can't-. you can't-we can't afford that in a time of war." You talk so fast that you stumble over the words occasionally, not stopping to breathe even once. Tamlin is almost tempted to invite you to breathe and explain more calmly, but your words cloud his eyes with anger.

"You... you-" He cannot even find the words to tell you after such a revelation.

"No, you have to believe me. Maybe-let me show you." Your tone is almost pleading, and at this point there would be no point in denying it to you. Tamlin knows you: you may have chosen him fifty years ago, but you have never been a liar.

You show him everything you can. It's been a long time since you've entered his mind, and the feeling is so familiar that your heart tightens. You focus on what you have to show him, and you don't think about it. After what seems like hours, you get to the last fight that happened with Rhysand, and when you get out of his mind his posture is slumped, tired, exhausted. You feel sorry for him, just as Mor had said, and you feel sorry for everything he seems to be feeling right now.

"Is he really ... so much better than me?" He finally asks, and it's not what you expected. You want to hug him, to tell him that no, absolutely not, never, never could Rhysand be, but you hold back.

"No." You just say, searching his eyes with yours, but not finding them. His face is low, probably trying to hide what look like ... tears, from the people in his Court. "Tamlin..."

"No, no...it's all right. I'll send her away now, you can stay as long as you like." The answer should make you happy, but it doesn't. His tone is so pained that you yourself begin to cry. You find it very ironic, how you are crying for him but he is probably crying for another female.

He leaves without saying a word to you. Just like last time.

Months go by. The war against Hybern has been fought and you haven't seen Tamlin once again. You have not taken part in the fighting despite your training. You do not feel like seeing such death. But you know that the Spring Court did, and it was also thanks to them that Prythian won against Hybern.

Azriel has visited you a handful of times since then, and he has always been very apprehensive and kind to you. No one yet knows where you ended up, and you will never be more grateful to anyone than him for keeping quiet.

Your dear friend has also returned, and together with her you have managed to find a small apartment in the nearest village, allowing you to take more part in the social side of your life.

It feels strange to return to the market once the war is over. A feeling of peace and total relaxation fills the air and feels surreal to you. You are not used to it, but you welcome it with open arms.

"Hey, honey, how are you?" Alyna, who has become one of the closest friends you have, asks you.

"It's such a nice day today, it's better than usual, or is it not?" You say lightheartedly, a big smile makes its way onto your face. Not just because of the war, you realize. You've finally managed to build a life for yourself away from the people who were giving you misery. Only one small question mark remains in your life, and that is Tamlin, but you realize there is not much you can do about it. You wonder why you still can't get over him after all this time. Is it the same for him, too? Surely not. Surely he will feel what you are feeling now, but for another female. The thought alone is capable of hurting you, but you drive it away, focusing on the figure in front of you.

"Yes, finally the burden of war no longer hangs over Prythian, I would say. Would you like some coffee?" And how could you say no.

When you get home in front of your door you find a letter. It comes from the Court, but it is not Tamlin's handwriting. It is an invitation, you realize when you open it, you have been invited to a formal ball to celebrate the end of the war.

You are delighted, this makes you a citizen in your own right, but you are also weirded out. From the invitation it appears to be a formal ball, and although you were an emissary long ago, at the Spring Court you are nothing more than a simple peasant girl, who like everyone else gets her food from what she produces, why would you attend such an event? More importantly, will the Night Court participate?

You put the countless doubts to rest with a bath and a sleeping tonic.

The next morning, you head to the village with one goal firmly set in your mind: you need an elegant and appropriate outfit for the Spring Court. All the formal dresses you own clearly belong to the Night Court, and although they are beautiful and elegant, by the time you have tried one on you have realized that you would not be comfortable. And also, if others will be present you want to show them that you are now no longer part of their Court. That this is your home, and you are happier than ever.

You walk into an old weaver's store that you've been to a couple of times before and you've always been comfortable.

"Y/n! What a pleasure to have you here, what would you need?" The female greets you warmly as always, and you reciprocate with equal affection.

"I would need a dress for a dance. Something simple but nice." The Fae squares your figure with watchful eyes, and you can almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

"Try this on."

After a whole afternoon spent inside her cuddly little store, and no less than three delightful new dresses, you finally manage to get home. It seems almost out of place to have three such exquisite and expensive dresses in your hands in such a tiny, bare apartment, but you were unable to say no in front of such beauty, such art expressed in fabric. You go to sleep with still a broad smile on your lips, perhaps in spite of everything you would not have minded going back to the court events.

The next day you wake up and instead of your usual reading, you do household chores, since you were supposed to be in the Spring Palace in the evening.

You gather fresh eggs and feed the animals, pick various fruits from the trees, and finally take a nice refreshing bath. You spend the afternoon getting ready, and just as the sun is about to set, you transmute in front of the Palace.

The feeling that overtakes you is ... it makes your stomach clench in agitation. It has been more than fifty years since you set foot in its home, but it has not changed one bit. The gardens are immense and full of sweetly and delicately scented flowers, the hallways are filled with gold and riches on every side. A Fae you don't recognize at the entrance to the ballroom asks you for an invitation, and you cheerfully hand it to him.

You don't immediately feel comfortable when you enter, and you make your eyes roam all over the room looking for the familiar figures of the Night Court, but you meet no one. In fact, no one from other Courts seems to be present. Your eyes wander again and again, until they meet those of a tall, relaxed-faced male. Tamlin. He sips an amber liquid from a gold-decorated glass as he talks happily with Lucien. Oh, how you've missed him, too.

When he notices you, he seems to take his leave and you stare at him as he crosses the entire room to join you. Your heart beats so fast that you are sure he can hear it as he gives you a slight bow and takes your hand, laying a gentle kiss on your knuckles. He leaves you the spot where he placed his lips almost thrilling.

"Y/n, you are stunning." He says, smiling gently at you, and the way he acts confuses you a little. You don't want to be anyone's spare tire. But at the same time, it ... it's all so much the same, it's as if 50 years had never passed. You've been hoping Tamlin would compliment you, after all the effort you put into fixing your hair, face and dress, and now that he does -- you're confused.

"Thank you, Tamlin. To what do I owe your invitation?" You decide to be direct.

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk about." He moves causing you to step forward in front of him, lays a warm hand on your uncovered back, and guides you to the banquet full of treats, away from the center of the room. "Help yourself." You don't serve yourself, despite all that food being extremely tempting, but instead you wait for him to speak. He sighs. "I wanted to thank you. For your warning. If she had carried out her plan-I don't even know if this Court would have stood."

"Of course, Tamlin. From my side I wanted to ... apologize." No apology was planned, but you owe him one.

He shrugs, dismissing the question with his hand.

"That's okay, I hope now that it's all over ... we can keep in touch. If you'd like to come to these kinds of events." You don't answer, but your smile speaks for you. You don't dance together, but it's the beginning of something wonderful, something that already happened a long time ago.

After almost a month, another invitation arrives. It is a dance where the other Seasonal Courts are also invited, so it will be even more exclusive, fortunately you still have two more dresses and most importantly, there will be no Night Court.

You quiver and are even more agitated than last time, you feel like a little novice girl. You avoid drinking any more coffee in the morning, not wanting to increase your nerves even more than they already are. You again spend the whole afternoon getting ready and transmute once more in front of his palace, the honeyed scent of flowers welcoming you just as you remembered. Your heart begins to beat wildly. You enter the hall and your eyes automatically land on Tamlin. You missed him, you realize.

"Y/n! Good to see you." The blond-haired male once again makes his way to join you. "You look as lovely as ever." His eyes burn on your figure, bolder than last time. He hands you a colorful drink and you gladly accept it.

"You look lovely too, Tamlin." You sip the pink liquid in the glass, a sweet and sour taste invades your mouth. "It's delicious, what is it?" You ask charmed. The male chuckles.

"Something new from the kitchen, but I don't know what it is either." He seems to hesitate a bit, but finally speaks, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Do you want to dance?"

Your knees almost buckle. "My pleasure." You say all too quickly. He holds out a hand to you, and after placing the glasses on a nearby table, you direct me to the middle of the dance floor, all eyes on you.

You dance in silence all evening. One dance turns into two, then three, and then into a whole night. When the music ends by now there are only a few people left, you are sweaty and out of breath, but you are happy. As happy as you've ever been. Deep laughter shakes your body, finally infecting Tamlin as well.

"I haven't danced in a long time." You say once you've calmed down, almost as justification for your behavior.Tamlin merely smiles at you. You head to the banquet and he hands you a large glass of water, and you are eternally grateful. You drink it down in one gulp.

"So...see you, Y/n?" He asks you uncertainly. You nod smilingly.

Only a handful of days pass when a letter arrives. But it's not a formal invitation, no. You recognize Tamlin's handwriting and can still smell him in the air. Has he been here? You quickly return and toss the basket full of crops at the doorway, eager to open the envelope with trembling hands.

Dear Y/n,

I would have liked to tell you in person, but I couldn't find you at home. I hope it's okay to have asked your friend for your address. Be ready tonight after dinner.

Yours, Tamlin.

Your body freezes before rejoicing in laughter coming from your heart. You get right down to business: do your usual routine, bath, hair, and finally your dress. You don't wear an elegant one, but a simple, typical Spring Court dress that Alyna gave you. You do sweet braids and don't wear makeup, but use your favorite perfume. Your favorite perfume. Someone knocks on the door at dusk, and it only takes a few moments for you to open it.

"Hey, Y/n." His eyes linger all over your body, he runs his tongue over his lips, and you can't help but stare.

"Hi." You greet him simply, a shy smile on your lips and slightly rosy cheeks. It's a date, you realize.

"Thank you for accepting."

"Did I have a choice?" He chuckles, then shakes his head.

"Of course you did. But I wanted to take you somewhere." He smiles at you. He holds out his hand and you grasp it, one moment you are in the doorway of your apartment, the next you are on a meadow covered with pale flowers and a cool stream. You look around in wonder. You had missed these places, so much that you didn't even realize it.

"It's... it's gorgeous." You comment in amazement. He nods, the stars reflected in his eyes giving him a poetic air. You would like to touch him now more than ever.

"I would have liked to have had more time, with you." He says after what seems like an eternity spent staring at you and nothing else. You nod, step forward, and he does the same. The warm breeze ruffles your hair, and you make to raise a hand and fix it, but he is quicker and moves a strand behind your ear. Just as he did one night long ago, and countless other times.

"Tamlin..." He shushes you with a kiss. It is sudden and leaves you breathless. It takes you a couple of seconds to recover and reciprocate with as much passion, as much feeling. You both pull away reluctantly, your breath heavy and your cheeks flushed. You can feel her heart beating incessantly, in the same rhythm as yours.

"I've been wanting to do this ever since I saw you again." He says and makes you chuckle, because it was exactly the same for you. "I've missed you."

"I missed you, too. So much." You answer and kiss him again. And again, again, again.

You have been denied for fifty years and now you don't have enough, you want to take back the time you lost. You must eventually break away one more time, making you moan in frustration.

"Let's try again." He says with his lips still resting on yours, your breaths mingling together.

"Let's try again."

234 notes · View notes

fashionteahouse · 3 months ago

Note

Can I request one where the reader and Jacob were dating before he phased and she was always around hanging with him and quill and embry and embry always had a crush on her knowing he couldn’t have her but then he imprints on her and …

yes ofc you can! hope you enjoy :)

self control - embry x reader

The garage door was open, letting the sunlight come in, the metal mechanic supplies shines brightly. The sounds of tinkering and soft chatter is what surrounds you and Jacob. He stops with screwing a bolt and walks over to his mini fridge.

He crouches down beside it, unleashing two soda cans that were apart of a variety pack. You watch him carefully as he does so, expecting him to pull out a cold soda.

He hands you one and you crack it open. Before you take a sip, he stops you with, “Wait.”

He opens his own and you both bump your soda cans together as an act of cheers. Both smiling and grinning at each other, you hear a deep voice echoing in.

“Jake, you in here?”

You look at him questionably and he flings his arm to let you know to don’t worry about them coming.

“They’re just my boys.” he says to you and you lean back on the old small couch that occupied the space.

Two boys who are around you and Jake’s age appears.

“Y/N, this is Quil and Embry.” he introduces you two. You wave to the both of them, offering a kind smile. The boy who is presumed to be Quil, gives you a flirty smile and the boy who is named Embry gives you a shy smile and you almost missed the faint coloring of his face.

“Lay off. That’s my girlfriend.” Jacob warns Quil.

“How much did he pay you?” Quil says to your direction, snorting at his lame joke, Jacob gets a tad bit irritated. That’s how Quil and Jacob started tussling with each other.

Embry joins you on the couch, watching the scene unfold before you both.

“My bet is on Quil.” he says, you smirk a bit and say, “You’re on.”

Talking on the phone with Jacob, he really wants to see an action movie that just hit the theaters.

“Please, Y/N. I promise you get to pick the next movie.” he says through the device.

You sigh and roll your eyes knowing how much he does want to see it before smiling, “Ok fine.”

You didn’t mind Quil and Embry joining, they were actually pretty funny for the most part. You got why they were best friends for a long time.

Meeting up with them outside of the theater as you got out of Jacob’s car, you decided to nudge Quil hello and give Embry a hug.

“How come he gets a hug?” Quil complains.

“He won’t try any pervy moves on me.” You say as a joke and you emit laughs from both Jacob and Embry.

Embry was secretly grateful for the hug you decided to gift him, wishing you were able to hold on longer. He knew it wouldn’t look right, but it didn’t stop him from playing it over and over in his head.

As Quil and Jacob had to use the bathroom before the ride home, you and Embry sat on the benches in the theater.

“So how did you and Jacob meet?” you ask him.

He shifts his body a bit, easily displaying his nervousness that you admired a bit.

“Um…our parents knew each other we just…”

“Got stuck with each other?” you finish and this makes you and him laugh as he nods.

“You guys ready to go?” Jacob says.

You and Embry turn and stand up as you all walk to his car. Dropping you off, you all say goodbye to them, give Jacob a kiss on the cheek and you go inside of your home.

You didn’t go to the same school as Jacob but you made it your business to call him and text him everyday.

You tried to phone him but there was no answer. It was a bit odd, he usually texts you if he can’t talk or he would call right back.

Walking to his house, you noticed his garage door was down. You made your way to the front door and knocked, but you were met with no answer. You swore you saw a curtain move.

Confused and frustrated, you walk along the La Push beach, hoping that he just happens to walk here. You sat on a log and rest your hand on your chin as you watched water meet each other over and over again.

“Hey.”

You glance up and see that it’s Embry. Your mood lifts a little. He couldn’t believe his luck that he got to see you just by taking a stroll.

“Hey.” you reply as you scoot over to make room for him to sit down.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

You shrug, trying not to make it into a big deal, “Just haven’t seen Jake today that’s all.”

He nods without any surprised emotions. You notice this as you really focus on him.

“He hasn’t been at school lately.” he reveals to you and your heart drops.

“Really? Well, did you ever get a chance to talk to him?”

“Nope. Not since the movies.”

That was this past weekend!

You sigh with such defeat and stare at the waves some more until you feel a compassionate hand on your shoulder. Embry looks at you with a grin and says, “Don’t worry.”

Weeks go by and you still haven’t heard from Jacob. Your heart feels too heavy to carry but luckily Quil and Embry still try to hang out with you, knowing you all three are sad about Jacob’s abrupt departure. You had hope when you called his house once more, his father Billy Black picks up the phone.

You ask to speak to Jacob.

“I’m sorry, Y/N but he’s sick with mono.”

You understand and promise to check in to make sure he feels better.

One day at a store getting a snack, you see Quil looking pissed off.

“What’s wrong Quil?” you ask him.

“I saw Jake.” he says and shakes his head.

“Okay?” you say getting a bit excited, unsure of why he would be upset, if you saw Jacob, you would do backflips if you could.

“The fucker’s not sick. He ditched us to spend all of his free time with Sam Uley and his goons.” he says. You drop him off back home, in a daze, confused on what’s so interesting about Sam Uley when he never thought to hang out with him before.

You rushed to the phone as soon as you got home and called Embry. He picks up on the second ring.

“Em, guess what?” you tell him a bit out of breath.

His heart flutters at the nickname you gave him and tries his best to savor it.

“Y-Yeah? What’s up?”

“Quil saw Jake and he’s not sick with mono. Apparently he’s in Sam Uley’s crew now.”

“What?” he says. He then continues.

“This doesn’t make any sense. He kept warning us about Sam just to turn around and start getting involved with him.” he says.

“Tomorrow, bright and early i’m going. You down?”

“Yes.”

Quil couldn’t come as much as he wanted to, he had to work at his grandpa’s store. You and Embry made the trip to Jacob’s and lo and behold Jacob didn’t look sick. You almost got whiplash and you got a good look at him. The first noticeable thing was his hair. His beautiful hair was gone. Just cropped short. His body was way bigger than old Jacob. You barely recognized him. It was as if he grew overnight. You knew something wasn’t right. Jacob shuts his front door and freezes when he sees that you both are approaching him.

At first, neither you or Embry spoke to him. He finally let his eyes fall and sighs, “You guys can’t be here right now.”

“Why? Because Sam is so important?” Embry says with great attitude, furrowing his eyebrows at his childhood friend.

Jacob opens to say something smart back but he just clenches his jaw and choose not to say anything. As if he was holding himself back.

“You could’ve at least called me, Jake.” you say, trying the sweet approach. He stared into your eyes and after sometime, as if he was searching for something, then he looks to the ground and shakes his head.

“Look. You guys can’t come back here. I won’t say it again.” he says and with that, he turns to go behind his house.

Failing at mending both relationships, you and Embry stay silent during the trip back home. Embry suddenly breaks the silence as he’s closer to his house.

“Do you mind if we watch a movie or something? To you know, take my mind off of things?” he asked genuinely and you place a sympathy gesture by placing your hand on his shoulder as you nod at his suggestion.

You both are on your knees, shifting hands through his film collection. You just couldn’t make your mind up what to watch because you changed your mind when you saw another interesting movie. You just let him pick.

Watching the movie did take minds off of today’s encounter. Sitting back and enjoying the pictures on the television screen. A hint of sadness dropped in the atmosphere when it was time for you to go home. You decided to give him a good heartwarming hug. You both needed it. Embry held you extra tight as you hold him extra tight. Both silently agreeing to be there for each other.

You looked down on your phone in disbelief. Embry was supposed to study with you but he wouldn’t pick up.

“You could’ve told me you were going to be running late.”

You text to him. No reply as you did the best you could with focusing. Seeing Embry less was not something you thought about. Soon, Quil and you ran into the same problem. Surprised by the fact that you both haven’t heard from Embry and he hasn’t been answering either of you.

“This doesn’t make any sense. I’m knocking on his door now so if you’re coming, come on.” Quil says on the other end of the line.

You both face his front door and Quil pounds on it as you fold your arms. Only his mom answer and she isn’t phased that it’s Quil.

“What, Quil.”

“Is Embry here?” Quil asks and wants the answer then and there.

“He’s sleeping.” She says.

“Tell him to call us when he wakes up.” you say to her sweetly. She nods and close the door as you and Quil make the journey back home. Quil did most of the talking out-loud. Venting his thoughts.

“They let Sam tear us apart.”

“Embry would never disappear on us like this.”

You know the only place where your brain could be clear.

You sit on the fallen logs and stare at the waves by yourself. You suddenly hear a faint whoop. Figures are jumping off of the cliff nearby. You stare a bit, the faces seeming familiar until you notice that Jacob and Embry are up there as well. You stand up to get a closer look at Embry to see him and Jacob wearing the same hair cut, sporting the same tattoo, and both not truthful to their word. You stomp through the direction to climb the cliffs.

Calling his name through the tree line, you make him stop his laughing and turn to answer your call. You tried to find words to speak but it felt the wind was knocked right out of you. You got to stare down at him and he got to stare down at you. The promise of him always being there for you stuck out to you. Everything was genuine.

“You should turn back around.” Sam says to you, breaking reality into the love haze.

“Wait..Sam. I think I…” he says and Sam looks at him and seems to understand right away what Embry was trying to say. He just pats his shoulder and jerk his head in your direction.

Sheepishly, you both walk away further from the group and he is able to develop a greeting to you. You’re a bit hurt from not hearing from him.

“Whats wrong with you?” you ask him as you cross your arms.

“Im so sorry, Y/N.” He says and takes your hand and you’re surprised by the satisfaction you felt. You felt yourself accept his apology but you wanted to see one more thing, “You could’ve talked to me. I meant it when I told you I would be there for you. You didn’t have to go to Sam.” you say him a hushed tone.

“I meant it too. That’s why I’m going to tell you everything. You’ll know exactly why everything is everything. Can you please just..trust me?” he says.

You stare into the souls of his eyes and nod as you hold onto his warm hand. It was killing Embry inside not being able to see you. The way he was able to phase out of wolf form so easily, was by keeping you on the forefront of his brain.

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secondtolastfr · 2 months ago

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actually no i have opinions about everlux

when dusthides dropped so many people said "it could have been a modern, it's not breaking the mold enough" and when fathoms dropped people compared it to nearly every other breed we have (mostly skydancers, pearlcatchers, guardians). but now we finally have an ancient that 1) most definitely could not wear apparel and 2) looks entirely unlike any other breed we have it's suddenly too much??

"how can it move? it doesn't make sense!" while i can get the argument of proportions to a degree i don't think we can apply actual biology to a fictional creature, especially a bug dragon that is neither mammalian, reptilian, insectoid, or in any way real. also we should be used to weird/unrealistic dragon proportions by now, given fae neck, tundra arm/foot, and aberrations in general.

"why is it fat?" why the fuck not?? i cannot emphasize enough that dragons aren't real and i don't get why we're fine with a million skinny tube-bodied breeds but we draw the line at one more fat breed because "no healthy animal looks like that irl!" the rhetoric used around the fatness is fucking vile. i've seen them described as bloated, diseased, pregnant (???), grotesque, and a lot worse. it reeks of fatphobia and i would think for a playerbase like ours we'd do better.

"we have too many bug dragons!" when veils dropped people said they weren't buggy enough so staff made aethers, and when aethers dropped people said they weren't buggy enough, and now we have a dragon that is Undeniably A Bug people suddenly don't want an actual bug dragon??

"bugs are disgusting!" ...that's probably the one argument i can't go up against. if you don't like bugs, if you have a bug phobia (idk what it's called), that's fine. but not everything on this site is for you. and that's okay! the best part about this site is that if you don't like a breed, you don't have to have it. i'm sure they'll release something you'll enjoy eventually, but at least let the bug lovers have this one.

"they don't look elegant enough to be a light breed!" who the fuck said light is an elegant flight?? pearlcatchers are stuck-up cowardly gossips who eat their shells, vomit up pearls, and then annually vomit up more Pearl Juice to make their pearl bigger. imps have to be buried properly or their dead bodies will melt into an undead monstrosity. the lightweaver calls the imps a literal mistake, pearlcatchers and imps fucking hate each other, and to top it all off there's a fucking zombie dragon destroying the area. what about any of that says elegance to you people. any elegance associated with the light flight comes from the users, not staff.

also i've seen so many people say "i want an eldritch horror breed!" or "i want something biblically accurate!" okay. riddle me this batman: how the hell would they pull that off. it has to look in some way draconic or like some kind of actual creature (not an irl creature ofc), so it can't just be a disembodied Thing With Eyes. we already have a many-winged breed (auras); tentacles and extra wings are already terts we have access too, and multigaze and other eye types already give us the eye horror. what the hell would staff be able to give us that 1) doesn't break their own ToS 2) doesn't draw too heavily from religious iconography and 3) still looks like a dragon that all flights can use.

#flight rising #i haven't been actually excited about a dragon breed since aethers released #and i normally don't care what other people think of new releases #but the response against everluxes has been really gross and bad for so many reasons #mostly for the crime of being a light breed

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 9 months ago

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Remember the Pokémon trainer ask with having pokepastas in their team? Could I maybe request something angsty?~ basically can I get headcanons of Arven and Kieran’s reaction to finding out Trainer got in a accident and was suffering from VERY lethal injuries and in panic missingno..basically messed them up into a pokepasta trainer,kinda corpse looking and now in never ending pain because of the raw wounds that never fully Heal but ofc take medication to numb the pain down and look out now for they’re friends so they don’t suffer the same fate? :))

Oh btw have a nice day or night!!! Remember to drink water!

Arven

From the moment he, Penny, and Nemona discovered your team enjoying a picnic...he always wondered how you got something like Missingno on your side.

But since it nearly corrupted his damn pokedex trying to just get information on it AND you were reluctant to share your past, he figured you'd just say "don't ask questions you don't want answers to" and end the convo right there.

He definitely wouldn't let Mabosstiff near it.

Last time he went near a Pokémon nobody should've known about...he almost lost his companion.

From time to time, he catches glimpses of your wounds (not during picnics ofc), bandages, and the medication Nurse Miriam prescribed to you, and suggests you save some of the herbs for yourself.

And they do help with your pain management when incorporated into tea or sandwiches (especially the salty herba mystica, which relieves your aches for a little while).

They're not miracle cures, but it's something.

Eventually, there comes a point where you know Arven wants to understand how you acquired Missingno, why you have so many ghastly Pokémon by your side, and why you were determined to defend him and the others down in Area Zero.

So you sit down and explain how you found it by accident in Kanto, caught it, and realized it was simply a lonely creature who wanted a trainer it could love and protect. Like any other Pokémon.

Yet you didn't realize the extreme lengths it would go to achieve that goal....until you nearly suffered a lethal wild Pokémon attack (it was in the dead of night, and you were ambushed while chasing after what you thought was a shiny).

You were bleeding out, bones broken and gaping wounds all over your body, and unconsciously begged for help-

And Missingno somehow heeded your call, escaping its pokeball and reviving you.

But in doing so, you were brought back as a zombie..one who still remembers the pain of that night and often cursed the glitch for not letting you die.

In time though you've made peace with it, knowing you were stuck this way now and it wouldn't let you go...

To the point where it erased its own pokeball from existence and became a constant presence around you, invisible aside from a few occasional glitch particles.

Yet you knew Missingno didn't mean any ill intent--all it wanted to do was save you.

Now you vowed to save others so they didn't suffer the same fate as you, whether that be haunted Pokémon left abandoned in some town or atop a mountain or your human friends in Area Zero.

Your pains aren't as severe now thanks to the meds, and you're grateful for Arven introducing you to herba mystica.

You were afraid he was gonna be freaked out by your story (or not believe you), but..while he finds it horrific and sad at first, he understands you better and is simply glad you're here now.

He's also happy to help his buddy manage their pain better, even if the remedies are only temporary.

Kieran

You had to bandage and conceal a great deal of your wounds so nobody at BB Academy got concerned, with DISABLED giving you a consistent best Heal Pulse to ensure your chronic pain wasn't debilitating).

Even so, Kieran assumes you got better over the past year and is desperate to battle you and win Missingno..something he vowed to acquire after realizing he'll never get Ogerpon.

You try explaining that it's literally impossible for you to surrender it, and it's too dangerous to bring it into a battle anyway, but he thinks you're just lying to him again and bragging.

In the back of his mind, though...he kept wondering why you had so many injuries..

Ofc..he's too focused on being stronger than you to ask you.

But after seeing Missingno come out (in its Fossil Aerodactyl form) and literally glitch Terapagos' beam out of existence and use Cut on multiple falling rocks---he was amazed.

You finally invite him to your dorm to talk after the mochi mayhem events, knowing he deserved some answers.

He sees the pain meds littered all over your countertop, and you finally reveal to him why you need those, why you look the way you do, and why you keep Missingno around:

Basically, after catching and befriending it, you got attacked by some wild Pokémon, and they would've left you for dead had it not intervened.

You made it feel loved, cherished, never using it as a weapon or an infinite item dispenser...and it couldn't watch you bleed to death.

So it saved your life, but it came with a great cost: neverending physical pain with your wounds never fully healing.

You used to curse Missingno for not letting you go, trying to release it several times to no avail, and just being miserable in general.

Yet once you realized it attracted more misunderstood, tortured, and damaged Pokémon to your side..you came to forgive it, knowing it was just like them despite its uncanny appearance: a creature who just wanted to protect its trainer.

Now you take medication (and a few leaves of herba mystica) to numb the pain down, so it didn't hurt as much as it did before.

You wouldn't want anybody to have a brush with death like you did. Not even your worst enemy.

That's why you went so far to protect your friends in Area Zero, especially Kieran.

After hearing your story, he felt so torn up and guilty--and convinced he was being "overdramatic".

You were still suffering all along, for years..and he had no idea, only thinking about himself and his selfish ways and how his pain couldn't possibly compare to-

But you stop your friend from spiraling, holding him and letting him cry out all of his renewed guilt, telling him that his own suffering was valid, too.

He was starting to look like a corpse with the dark circles and paler complexion....and it scared you.

Seems like he took "I wanna be like you" a bit too literally.

But you're glad Missingno saved you--otherwise you never would've gotten the chance to meet him and help him become more confident in himself (ofc you wish things were different before and didn't require you shattering his confidence first).

Since that conversation, Kieran starts taking better care of himself and makes a promise to protect you.

Not from physical threats per se as you're basically immortal, but from rude stares and whispers of how "creepy" you are.

He tends to hug you a lot and lend you his jacket for warmth if you ever get cold in class or in the polar biome.

It does help with the chills you get so often, and makes you feel grateful that you two were still friends despite everything.

#we are baaaaack with pokepastas #clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokemon arven #pokemon kieran #pokepasta x reader #missingno #tw death #tw body horror #headcanons #platonic

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monkiesimp · 1 year ago

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Hi can I request a macaque wukong x fem Neko reader

Reader is a baker and she loves to bake and she’s housewife material i just wanna see the reaction of them to see there s/o so sweet that she would do nice things to them

MACAQUE

• You went to visit his dojo where he apparently lived for the first time and oh man, does he even clean up?

• Anytime you'd visit you'll just get distracted by the place and start cleaning up, Macaque didn't really like it because he didn't think it was that important, plus he didn't want you doing his work he ignored.

• Macaque mostly spent his time wandering around, he wasn't home that often and he didn't know why cleaning was so important.

• After that, he would make sure to clean the house up himself before you came so you two could ACTUALLY spend time together without you getting distracted.

• When he saw you cooking for the first time, he took one small bite without you noticing and... Oh, wow. It was actually so good.

• This man eats nothing but noodles, just buying anything he can afford, he didn't try any other stuff but once he tried your cooking it was like a whole new world opened to him...

• Nonetheless he'd still be poor to afford anything.

• So he just stole all the goodies you made and portaled away somewhere, still in your house but out of your view.

• He didn't do much when he heard your grumbling from afar, probably realizing he took everything away.

• You were definitely pissed and scolded him afterwards for it.

• Since noticing he doesn't eat anything much but some simple stuff, you began gifting him food you made sometimes, you didn't mind sharing.

• Macaque never said it but he definitely loved anything you'd make, you were very good at cooking.

• He was starting to become very flirtatious towards you, often being close and coming in behind you while you were baking, placing his hands on your hips and whispering words into your ear that would make you shudder.

• You knew he was just messing with you, but geez.

• He enjoys the little reactions he drives out of you very much, also the way your cheeks and ears flush red when you get flustered.

• Oh, he's definitely going to have a lot of fun with you.

WUKONG

• When he saw you with Mk, he saw you as a friend but he wasn't too interested in you. At first, anyway.

• But after knowing you cook, which his own protege told him, he was a little interested...

• He can't cook himself, he burned down the entire kitchen when he tried. All he eats is his own hair and peaches, so why doesn't he try to learn from you? Yeah! That would work!

• ...

• He accidentally burned down your house.

• So, that didn't go very well and you're definitely never teaching him to cook again.

• Your house wasn't completely destroyed, luckily, just needed a little repairing. Wukong felt very guilty so he invited you to stay with him for the meantime, as to which you agreed to. What else could you do?

• You had lots of fun at his mountain, tons of it! You played with the monkeys, petting them and they loved you. You gave a few of them names, the ones who stuck with you the most.

• But it bothered you greatly the fact that you could eat nothing besides peaches... Not that you didn't like peaches, but you can't go every single day eating just one fruit and nothing else.

• And you definitely WERE NOT going to eat his food made out of hair.

• So you decided to bring some ingredients from your home to his mountain (Which Wukong helped by with flying you there ofc) to make something.

• You made a peach cake, and offered Wukong to try one too.

• When Wukong tried it he was in love, he never tasted anything so heavenly in his life before.

• He nearly ate all the cake, well, more than half of it, he really liked it.

• You were honestly quite concerned by how fast he was eating, he looked like he was going to choke on it. He did, just once.

• Since your appetite was small you weren't bothered by it.

• When you had nothing to do you'd usually clean his home when Wukong was away.

• About a few days later, your home was back to it's normal stare and you could go back! Yay!

• Of course, you grew attached to Wukong so you'd still visit his mountain from time to time, bringing him food. Poor guy eats nothing but peaches and his own hair, he needs to try something new.

#lmk x reader #monkie kid x reader #macaque x reader #lmk macaque x reader #sun wukong x reader #lego monkie kid x reader #monkie kid #lmk wukong x reader #monkie kid wukong x reader #monkie kid macaque x reader

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greg-montgomery · 2 years ago

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Okay so absolutely loving your writing sm <3

So I had this idea while, of course, scrolling down the aaron x reader tag so like you dont have to write it if you dont want to but i wanna throw this out here bc otherwise itll stay stuck in my brain

But like reader who is just,, incredibly shy? Like in social situations they put up a front and you would never expect them to be shy because theyre very present and speak up often despite almost blending in the background when quiet. But its a whole other story at home and such?

Like, Aaron notices and first thinks theyre uncomfortable with him but he slowly realizes that this is like, their love language ig and showing vulnerability? Quiet time, acts of service and such yk? Like, they always put up a front and to drop that (not entirely ofc but a decent amount of it) is just the highest form of trust bc theyve been ridiculed for being shy? And the shyness is much more present in the bedroom, especially when he praises them they just get even more shy and hes just so so gentle :(( like asking if theyre okay, going slowly and asking to see them when they hide their face but never forcing them to and just like praising them when they do and the praise kink of them just sticks its head up and its just the purest form of being together? Like, its not rough but gentle and its soft and theres really no other word than making love for it and its all just :(( and the aftercare the man would provide is just AHHH😭❤️

Oh dear im so sorry but i got sucked into the fandom and got obsessed by hotch and then your writing so- this is so long so imma shut up now but i just needed to throw it out there tbh before id explode from all the hotch ideas i have in my mind that im not writing myself or giving to any writer bc what if they think the ideas are weird or too long like rn- but anyway imma shut up have a nice day/night and hydrate <3 (also you might see more of me if you dont mind long ass rants in the middle of it like this one- if you do mind just tell me to shut up im not gonna be mad or anything <3/srs)

-🧽

my sweet sweet 🧽 anon <33 this took me a while to write i'm sorry!! i hope you've been well!! i think about you a lot and i haven't forgotten the kind words you had sent to me <3 i hope you enjoy this!! (and ofc i don’t mind long rants i LOVE talking about aaron <3333)

nsfw - minors dni

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Can I, honey?” you heard Aaron’s words as he wrapped his hands around your wrists.

You had been covering your face as you usually did when your boyfriend went down on you. After making you finish, Aaron had made his way up again, urging you nicely to look at him.

With a nod of your head, you gave him permission to gently remove your hands from your face.

“There you are.” He smiled at you.

“Hi,” you said, softly, unable to keep yourself from smiling a little.

“Hi,” he answered, just as softly. “Do you wanna taste yourself, baby?”

“Mhm…” You nodded, staring at his chin instead of his eyes.

Your own eyes closed involuntarily, as he lowered himself and his lips touched yours. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to touch yours. Knowing where that tongue had been before it was inside your mouth, made you even more excited for what was coming next.

Aaron placed his hand on your hip, giving it a squeeze and then moved it down your thigh, wrapping your leg around his body. “Open them wider, sweetheart.”

Only a few moments later, Aaron was inside you, rocking his body against yours, in a pace slow enough to be considered both romantic and tormenting.

“Ah…”

“Good?” he breathed heavily on your mouth.

“So good…”

“I love you,” he moaned, his face now buried in the crook of your neck. He left open mouthed kisses on your sensitive skin after every little whine of yours. “I love your body. I love the sounds you make. I love the way you take me like you were made for me.”

“I was,” you sighed, because you really were. There was no man in the world you’d let yourself be this vulnerable around, other than Aaron. Your Aaron.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #nsfw.#ask #🧽 anon #hotch 🪐

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skyfallslayer · 5 months ago

Text

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Five - Part 2

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Part One || Series Masterlist

🎲Word Count: 22,544 (In Total)

🎲Date: 7/31/24

🎲Warnings: Heavy Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death"; Funerals; Crying; Talks of Corpses; Being Drugged; Brief Alcohol Consumption; Unwanted Touching; Suggestive Dialogue; Suicidal Thoughts; Minor Blood; A Certain "Curse" Comes Into Play Early; The Byers Family's Mental Strain; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Gangster & A Overprotective Brother; The Harringtons' A+ Parenting; Steve's Emotional Damage & Signing Up To Be A Babysitter; Stephanie & Will Deserved All The Love, man. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Heads up, Readers! This document is split between two parts. For some reason Tumblr said I reach my 1,000 space limit, or something like that and wouldn't let me post it because it's so long. PLEASE read part one first or this won't make any sense :) Enjoy!

-Continuing...-

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Steph stares at her deadbeat Dad, scared, shocked, confused. Out of all the people her mind could conjure up for her to see today, it just had to be him, it just had to be the guy that ruined her and her family’s lives. As much as she wanted to look away, her gut was telling her not to (Just like the old days, huh?).

She swallows, trying not to get teary eyed in front of him. “This isn’t real. You’re not here.” She says, making him laugh, that same laugh that gave her chills.

“Oh, but I am.”

“No you’re not. You’re a million fucking miles away.”

“So?” He shrugs, still smirking. “By all means, you still need me.”

Steph clenches her jaw and sends him the dirtiest look. “I don’t fucking need you. Neither does Dustin or my mother. I’m leaving.” But when she tried she couldn’t, her whole body was stuck to the chair, frozen.

That seemed to fuel his ego a bit. “See? You still need me. Stay. Let’s talk. We haven’t done that in so long, munchkins.” He leans over to touch her forearm, sending another shiver down her body. “Talk.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Stephanie! What’s wrong with you?” Will starts shaking her shoulders, not really sure what else he could do. “Stephanie! Stephanie! Stephanie!!!”

He doesn’t know what’s happening! She seems like she’s in a trance, but what kind of trance? How did she get into it? Who put her into it? And more importantly, how does he get her the hell out of it?

“Stephanie! Come on! What happened to you? How do I…” He grabs the sides of his head. “What do I do? What should I do? What can I do? I…” He gasps, eyes widening. “Music…”

His coco orbs landed on what he had brought back, and he wasted no time to take his coat off and to dump out his brother’s cassettes everywhere. He starts shuffling through the pile, trying to find something he knew she liked. She liked metal, but Jonathan wasn’t a fan of that, so that rules out bands like Metallica or Dio, but she was a big fan of rock too.

Come on, Jonathan. You have to have something. Seriously, there has to be something he can play! Eagles, Heart, The Police…

His heart skips a beat. Got it!

He recalls another band that was in her top five, one of them being Journey, And Luckily, his brother had the ‘Frontiers’ Album that so happens to have a song that was always on her mind. He pulled the cassette from the case and placed it inside the walkman (thank heavens her favorite song was the first one on set). Will replaced her hat for the headphones, and as soon as they were secured…

He presses the play button and prays.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan had everything he needed for their little hunting mission. His dad had left behind a few of his guns when the marriage ended, and his mom always warned him and Will that those would be used in emergency situations only. And in Jonathan’s defense, he should count this as an emergency. This… faceless beast was somehow responsible for the disappearance of his little brother, Stephanie, and Barb – and he’s not even sure if there’s more or not, but he’s hoping it’s stopped at them – and he needs to know why and where this thing even came from, and where it took them. He’s just hoping he can get those answers before finally slaying the beast.

Now, he was just confirming with Nancy over the phone. “I was thinking we can meet in the area about an hour before sundown? Maybe get some practice in shooting? Unless you’ve… shot before?”

[ ‘No, no. I have not. Have you met my parents?’ ]

That got him to chuckle a little. “So, no? What are you taking as a weapon then?”

[ ‘I mean, I’ve got my old bat when I’ve played softball. I could trying seeing if I could sneak out a kitchen knife but…’ ]

“That might be a little hard, especially since your mom’s in the kitchen all the time.”

[ ‘Speaking of, are you sure your mom can’t hear us?’ ]

“Positive.” Jonathan said, sparing a glance over his shoulder to the sleeping figure on the couch. “She’s sound asleep. I’ll have enough time to make an excuse if she does wake beforehand.”

[ ‘If you say so. I’m just a little nervous. I’m a little afraid to see that thing for real this time.’ ]

“Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll try to get answers, and if not…” He takes a deep breath. “We kill the faceless thing. End of story. At least… I won’t have to worry about it terrorizing my mom anymore, or anyone for that matter.”

I have to kill this thing. I have to make it up to my Mom somehow. He didn’t realize how quiet he went, and wasn’t sure how long she was calling out his name for. “Uh, sorry. W-What did you say?”

[ ‘Hour before sundown, right?’ ]

“Yep. I’ll meet you there.”

[ ‘Kay. I’ll see you there.’ ]

Jonathan hangs up the phone, sighing and heading back to his room to make sure he has everything – completely unaware that a certain someone was actually awake.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Later that day, both Powell and Callahan finally decided to check on their boss who had failed to come into the station this morning. They pulled their car in next to his, not really seeing much out of the ordinary so they went for the front door.

“Hey, Chief!” Callahan called out, before knocking. “Hello? Whoa!-”The door was practically pulled from him, and out came their Boss who looked a lot worse for wear.

“Jesus, Chief. You all right?” Powell asked, concerned.

“What are you doing here?” Hopper asked, pistol by his side with an itchy finger.

“We tried calling, but–”

“Yeah, the phone’s dead.” He snaps, missing the way his two pupils backed up a bit at the sight of his weapon and tone.

Callahan tries to steer his trigger finger away with a conversation. “Hey, so Bev Mooney came in this morning all upset. Said that Dale and Henry went hunting yesterday… and they didn’t come back home.”

“She thought they were on another binger, but she’s not so sure now.” Powell adds.

“I think this whole Will Byers, Stephanie Henderson thing has everybody on edge.”

Hopper’s heart sank a bit. “Where was this?”

“It was at the station.”

“No, no. Where did Henry and Dale go hunting?”

“Oh. Uh, out near Kerley.”

Hopper felt himself go paler. “Mirkwood.”

“What?”

“O-Okay. You go back to the station. I’ll take care of this, all right?” He explains, and tries to go back inside.

“Are you sure?” Callahan asked, worriedly.

Hopper nods and opens his door back up. “Yeah, leave it.”

“Oh, hey. Uh, they found Barbara’s car.”

“What?”

“Barbara Holland’s car.” Powell specifies. “Seems she ran away after all. Staties found it late last night at a bus station.”

“Funny, right?” Callahan jokes. “They keep doing our job for us.”

No, definitely not funny. Hopper’s jaw clenches and he nods. “Yeah. It’s funny.” He says, heading back inside and mentally cursing.

“Is he off his meds again?” He asked in a low whisper.

Powell shrugs. “He’s been spending too much time with Joyce Byers. That’s what I think.”

“Maybe he should stick with the Henderson woman. I heard they were friends through high school.”

“Yeah…” He scoffs. “Like she’s any better.”

Callahan gave him a look. “What do you mean?”

“Let me just say she was… quite the wild card back then.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When the doorbell rang at the Wheeler house, the family honesty wasn’t sure who to expect.

Except the three boys who had bolted out of the basement knew.

They had loosened their funeral clothes a bit since they arrived here, and were trying to act like everything was A-Okay! And totally not suspicious when the rest of the family sees who their mysterious guest is.

“We got it!” Dustin shouts, surprising and stopping Karen in the hallway.

Karen halts her son, confused. “What? Did you guys order pizza or something?”

“No! Uh, we, um…” Mike was fumbling his words a bit, fueling his mother’s suspicions more.

“We asked someone to come over. From the funeral. Uh… A teenager from high school.” Lucas explains.

“Yeah. W-We got to talking to him, and we really think he could help us with this history project that is due in a few weeks.”

“He’s actually a friend of Nancy.”

“Oh, really?” Karen asked, and spoke of the devil.

“A friend of mine?” Nancy said, halfway down the stairs, clothes changed into something more cozy and warm.

“Who’s the friend?”

And that’s when Dustin had opened the door, pretending to be overjoyed. “Steve!”

“Steve?” Nancy said, coming completely down the stairs now. “W-What are you doing here?”

“Uh, well, I had the chance to talk to them early, and sounded like your brother and his friends needed help with a school project.” Steve replies, hoping he sounded convincing. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t, I’m just… a bit surprised, I guess.”

Steve smiles, and holds his hand out for her mother. “Hello, Mrs. Wheeler. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Steve Harrington?” Karen said, shaking it. “I feel like I’ve heard that name before.” Her eyes trail to Nancy who was looking away with a nervous laugh.

And I just made it awkward. He brushes it off quickly. “Uh, I won’t be long, Mrs. Wheeler, I’ll just go over a couple things with the boys.”

“Oh, take your time. It’s nice that they actually asked for help once.”

“Thank you. Alright, kids–” He smacks his hands together. “Let’s go.” He makes a mental note to talk to his girlfriend later, but as right now he doesn’t want her to get involved with whatever this was. He follows the kids to the basement, but a few steps down, Mike stops him.

Mike makes sure his family wasn’t around to hear this, and starts talking in a low tone. “Before we go down, there is something we have to tell you.”

“Which is?” Steve said, raising an eyebrow.

“To make a long story short, the night after Will and Stephanie disappeared we decided to go looking in the area her car crashed, and we found someone.”

That’s not concerning at all, Wheeler. What was this kid getting at? It was making him a bit nervous. “Someone?”

“Yeah. She’s–” Mike sighs, and gives him a stern look. “You have to swear you won’t tell my parents, or Nancy, or… anyone for that matter. Do you understand?”

“I… understand.” He holds his hand up. “I swear.”

“Good.” The kid nods, satisfied. “Come on.”

Steve follows him down, and that’s when he notices the girl on the couch. A young girl, probably not much older than twelve was sitting there in a Mötley Crüe band shirt, jeans and a pair converse on the floor; Along with a plaid jacket too. That outfit looked… quite familiar.

“Is that…” He begins, gesturing to the redhead who was trying to figure him out too.

“This is Eleven, or we call El for short. She’s…” Mike trails off, thinking. “We don’t know where she’s from, all we know is that it’s from a bad place. And she has powers.”

Now that got his attention. “I’m sorry, powers?”

“Yeah. Like… Magneto.”

“Magneto?”

“Yeah. Like from the X-Men.”

“Uh…”

“Oh, my god.” Dustin says, throwing his head back to his obliviousness. “How were you and my sister friends?”

“Hey, we had other things in common.” Steve pushes back, hands on his hip like a stern mother.

“Oh, yeah?” Dustin squares up. “Like what?”

“You’re really going to quiz me right now?”

“Yes! I am!”

“Dustin, man, come on. We don’t have time for–” Lucas said, sitting up straighter from his spot on a chair. But of course, his friend wouldn’t listen (and they all accuse him of being the stubborn one).

“What is her favorite color?” Dustin starts, getting an eye roll and a sigh from his ‘opponent’.

“Seafoam green.” Steve replies, going along with it.

“Favorite band?”

“It’s a tie between Journey and Metallica.”

“Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Mint chocolate chip, however–”

“Ah, ha!” The youngest Henderson jerks his thumb at him, like he caught him in a lie. “Wrong! That’s not her–”

“But, but, but!” Steve cuts right back in, taking control. “I wasn’t finished. She says that’s her favorite, because she’s too embarrassed to tell everyone that her actual favorite is bubblegum, which no one, and I mean no I know besides her, likes that flavor. Correct?”

Dustin makes a face like he’s been kicked. “Damn it…” He mumbles, pacing off to find something to do.

“Ice cream?” El said, and it took Steve a second to realize she phrased it as a question.

“You never had ice cream?” He asked, and she shook her head. “Where the hell was she living before?” Then he stops himself. “D-Doesn’t matter! We’ll discuss that part later, maybe over some ice cream, but for right now, why am I here?”

It took a bit to get him up to speed about the past few days, leaving him with a spinning head, and asking more questions that needed to be answered.

“Holy shit…” He mutters, rubbing his temple. “Holy shit. So… you guys are all convinced that Stephanie and Will are stuck in another dimension? All because El took you guys to his house and said they were there but couldn’t see them?”

“Correct.” Lucas said, with a nod.

“And it pretty confirmed it when you heard Will over the radio explaining that?”

“Correct.”

“That’s… insane, but… it makes sense.”

“So you’re saying you believe us?” Mike asked, genuinely surprised.

“Look, like I said earlier, when the evidence was laid out about what happened to them, It didn’t really sit right with me, you know? And–” Steve fiddles with his hands again. “And Stephanie, I mean she knew the Quarry pretty well, so I thought it would have been odd that she would have fallen in like that, even if she was being chased. And Will… he sounds like he’s a smart kid too.”

“He is.” Lucas said, a bit of sadness there.

“He’s really smart.” Mike adds.

“That’s my point.” Steve agrees. “So, if what you’re suggesting is true, and they really did end up in some dimension, whoever found or knows, or even is responsible for that to happen to them, they must have planted the fake bodies to take the heat off the case. I mean, let’s be real here. Kids get kidnapped to another dimension? Who’s going to believe that?”

“So someone had to open that gate to the Upside Down, realize what happened and wanted to cover their asses.” Mike turns towards Eleven who seemed like she wasn’t fully into their conversation. “Do you know where the gate is?”

She shakes her head. “No…”

“Then how do you know about the Upside Down?” Lucas asked, as she looked away in shame.

“Hey, uh…” Steve leans in to whisper. “Not to budge into this spat, but uh, did I break Henderson?”

Now all eyes were on him, and he was pacing around in a small circle with something in his hand; He looked like he was in deep thought too.

“Dustin, what are you doing? Dustin?” Mike tries, and gets irritated. “Dustin!!”

That seemed to do the trick because he stopped. “I... I need to see your compasses.”

“What?”

“Your compasses. All of your compasses, right now!”

Of course Lucas and Mike decided to humor him a bit and start searching for what they had, while Steve locked eyes with El who looked just as confused as he was. She seemed painfully shy, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying to get on her goodside.

“Hey–” He whispers. “I think he’s the nutty one.” And he makes a goofy expression that got her to smile. Good enough for me.

And he stands up to join the boys around the table who had all the compasses laying out.

“What’s exciting about this?” Mike asked, unamused.

“Well, they’re all facing north, right?” Dustin points out.

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, that’s not true north.”

“What do you mean?” Lucas asked, slightly intrigued.

“I mean exactly what I just said. That’s not true north.” He looks between them like they’re crazy. “Are you both seriously this dense?” His friends shrug and he sighs. “Steve?” And all hopes go out too when he shrugged. “Wow. You’re useless.”

“Gee, thanks, Henderson.” Steve said, trying not to strangle him yet.

“So, the sun rises in the east, and it sets in the west. Right?” Dustin points towards the left wall, east. “Which means that’s true north.”

“So what you’re saying is the compasses are broken.” Mike said, clarifying.

He sighs again. “Do you even understand how a compass works? Do you see a battery pack in this?”

“No.”

“No, you don’t. Because it doesn’t need one. The needle’s naturally drawn to the Earth’s magnetic North Pole.”

“So what’s wrong with them?” Lucas questions.

“Well, that’s what I couldn’t figure out, but then I remembered.” He perks up with a grin. “You can change the direction of a compass with a magnet. If there’s the presence of a more powerful magnetic field, the needle deflects to that power. And then I remembered what Mr. Clarke said. The gate would have so much power–”

“It could disrupt the electromagnetic field.” Mike said, smiling.

“Exactly.”

“Meaning, if we follow the compasses’ north…”

“They should lead us to the gate.”

And the boys begin praising Dustin for figuring that out–

Why El was looking like she heard the worst news ever.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan fixes his jacket and slings a bag over his shoulder as he comes out of his room when he notices what time it was (He could even see that the sun was starting to change color). But as soon as he reaches where the hallway meets the kitchen, he sees his mother sitting at the table reading over some paperwork.

His heart skips a beat a bit, and as he calmly tells himself to stick to the script. “Y-You’re up.” he says, getting her attention. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up tonight.”

“Yeah, I guess that service really took a lot out of me.” Joyce replies, setting what she was reading down to look at him. “Heading out?”

“Y-Yeah, um… a classmate who was at the wake wanted to cheer me up. I-I was going to turn it down, but I thought it could take my mind off a few things.”

“Oh, well that’s good.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m going to head out.” He says, turning to leave.

“Okay.” She said, crossing her arms. “Does your outing include guns?” That got him to stop. “I noticed you raided your father’s old gun safe.”

Jonathan bites his lip for a second, before turning around with a dry laugh. “It wasn’t like he was going to use them any time soon.”

She raised an eyebrow, stern. “I thought you didn’t like shooting?”

“I thought it would be nice to pick it back up. You know, just in case that thing comes back.”

“Well, that’s actually rather thoughtful of you, Jonathan.”

“Uh, thanks, mom.” He sends her a quick smile and starts leaving again. “I’ll be back.”

“Alrighty.” She says, standing up silently. “Is that before or after you kill the faceless thing?” This time her son couldn’t hide his shock when he turned around, and she couldn’t really hide her irritation either. “You really need to learn whether someone is fake sleeping or not.”

He swallows. “Mom–”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Mom, it’s not–”

“Jonathan, you will tell me who you’re going out with right now. I am not playing any games.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Despite their agreements to go out to look, Dustin was still salty enough to try to get Steve to leave. His first attempt was to try to go get him to see Nancy, but that backfired when she apparently had left for something. The second was when he pointed out to Steve that he still had his suit on, and tried to get him to go home and change – But the teenager proudly declined, and saw right through his crap, and said he can just take his jacket and tie off and he’ll be fine. His third attempt was a bit later on in their adventure, when the temperature started to drop and so did the sun in the sky, he tried again with the clothes, pointing out that dress shoes weren’t exactly made for hiking – this attempt was just flat out ignored.

“Dude, just let it go.” Lucas said, since he was partnered up with him (Now, he’s lucky that they lived close enough to actually change out of their funeral clothing. He can’t imagine how Steve’s doing it). “He’s going to be helpful whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dustin said, sarcastically. “What? Because he’s carrying a bat around? Who carries a bat in their trunk?”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Dude, drop it. It’s actually kind of relieving that someone else brought a weapon too.” He waves around his slingshot furiously to make a point.

“Whatever…”

He sighs, and takes a glance at his compass. “How much further?”

“I don’t know.” Dustin shrugs. “These only tell direction, not distance. You really need to learn more about compasses.”

“I’m just saying. How do we know when we get to the gate?”

“Uh, I think a portal to another dimension is gonna be pretty obvious.”

Lucas sighs again, this time glancing back at the others. Mike and Eleven were paired together, while Steve was a few steps behind them keeping guard out. But his focus was more on the girl that has been suspiciously wiping her nose every few minutes.

“Do you think she’s acting weird?” He finally asked in a lower voice.

“You’re asking if the weirdo is acting weird?” Dustin said, confused.

“I mean, weirder than normal?”

“I don’t know. Who cares?”

Meanwhile, Eleven was remembering a few scary things from her past, and the guilt and fear was starting to eat away at her. With a shaky hand, she tugs on the boy’s sleeve. “Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Turn back.”

Mike blinks, puzzled. “What? Why?”

“I’m tired.”

He sighs. “Look, I’m sure we’re almost there. Just hold on a little longer, okay?” He says, making her stop.

She worriedly looks at the way they came from, practically aching to start running away from all this. She knows once they find out the truth, they’re going to be mad.

“Hey.” Steve calls out softly, standing right in front of her. “You okay?”

Her eyes scan his face, seeing how genuinely worried he was for her, despite they met only hours ago (Why weren’t the people she grew up with this kind to her?). She nods subtly. “F-Fine.”

“Fine?” He asks, getting another nod. “Okay.” He wasn’t fully convinced, but he wasn’t going to push. “But your nose is bleeding.”

She perks up at the news, and quickly wipes it away. She just gives him a quick smile before jogging to catch up with the others, Steve’s concern only growing a bit stronger.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Stephanie felt like she couldn’t breath. She suddenly felt like she was a kid again, practically having to be on her toes whenever he was around. Right now, her father seemed pretty ticked off about something, something that she was going to have to continue to push back on and try to get away.

“You ratted me out.” He hissed, arms crossed in disappointment. “You and that little rich friend of yours.”

She tightens her jaw again, her hands managing to make a fist as she glares. “I never ratted you out.”

“Oh…” He whispers, realization creeping across his features for a few seconds. “So it was him, huh?”

Fucking prick. She bares her teeth at him, angry herself. “Steve did what any friend would have in a situation like that.”

His eye twitched. “By selling me out!!”

“You got child endangerment and illegal gambling. You’re lucky that’s all you got.” She says, raising her tone. “He decided to be a good person and respect my wishes, respect my dignity, and save me from some humiliation from every fucking school kid – to save my mom the guilt, and Dustin some confusion.” Steph scoffs. “Selling you out? You got fucking lucky, Pal.”

“Pal? I ain’t your pal! I’m your fucking father!” He points at himself furiously. “I raised you!”

“Mom raised me! Not you!” Now she felt the tears start to sting, but not from sadness, no, these were angry tears. He opens his mouth to speak, and she cuts him off. “And don’t you dare say you raised Dustin! You were never there for him. Never there for any school events, or the time he tried to play hockey. For fuck’s sake, you were even there when he was born!!”

“I WAS BUSY!!”

“Busy fucking GAMBLING! You were always doing that!” She scoffs again. “You were never our father, you were never his father. When mom wasn’t there it was me. It was always me, it was never you.”

“I was always there for you.”

“Oh, please…”

“We hung out, you can’t deny that. We always did something every week.”

“Oh, yeah, take your child to a black jack table and let them watch as you bet money we don’t have. Yeah…” She rolls her eyes. “That was a wonderful father-daughter bonding moment.”

“Stephanie–”

“Don’t say my name.”

“Stephanie.” His face softens. “Munchkins, you have to understand, what I did, it was necessary. I was on my way of making the big bucks, and moving us to the hills with beautiful and big houses your mother and I always dreamed of.”

“That was a lie you just love feeding to mom.”

“Stephanie–”

“Stop.” She snaps, calming herself a little. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know if I hit my head a little hard, or that weird monster that keeps following me is doing this but…” She shakes her head. “You’re not real. You’re in prison. And if this is just some sick joke to get me to forgive you, it ain’t going to work. I hate you, and I will always hate you. Period. Now–” She manages to push herself off the bar stool to stand. “I’m leaving.”

Stephanie doesn’t want to bid him another thought or word as she turns and starts heading for the exit as her father starts yapping away.

“You hate me, I get it.” He sighs. “I hate myself as well. But… I know you hate yourself too.”

That got her to stop. It got a nerve that she was trying to hide.

“Deep down, you hate yourself. A lot apparently.”

“I don’t hate myself.” She replies, turning around.

“Oh, yes, you do.” He said, standing up too, a gleeful look on his face. “You see, you’ve hated yourself for quite a while, and it didn’t start after the whole… broken friendship thing, no… it’s been happening for a while.”

“You’re…” She swallows, shaking slightly (She was unaware of the room growing darker and more suffocating). “You’re crazy.”

“This whole self hatred thing has been going on and off throughout your life. There were so many key moments that made you think that way.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re fucking crazy–”

“There were so many times that made you stop and think, ‘Hey. Why don’t Steve’s parents like me? What’s wrong with me? Why am I not good enough?’ Hmm…” He moves closer, the abyss growing around them both more. “Ring any bells? Remember when you thought that and tried to change?”

“That’s…” She touches the side of her head. “That’s ridiculous. I… I just thought maybe I should change a little, wh-what would it h-hurt? Right…? I…”

“See? It’s in there? It’ll always be there.” He taps his own chest twice. “There will always be that hatred in your heart that you can’t get rid of.”

“I… I c-can get rid of it.”

“You can bury it, but you can’t get rid of it. It’s your genes, it’s engraved in your bones, sewn into your heart.” He smiles. “Think about it, even after your friend ended everything, sure you were mad at him, but you were more mad at yourself than anything.”

Her eyes widened, shaking. “S-Stop…”

“You were so mad that you thought about…” The abyss grows more and pulls them closer together. “Ending it all for everyones’ sake.”

She felt like something was grabbing a hold of her now, pushing on her lungs and in her throat, suffocating her. She felt her eyes sting and burn, and her father’s started to change into something or some else.

“And you…” He laughs, the pain in her body intensifying. “Probably should.”

He starts extending his arm out for her, bruised fingers coming over to ghost her face and–

It was like someone had opened the shades and let the sunlight in. Everything felt warmer and lighter, the pressure was suddenly taken off her body. She gasps with relief, her father’s hand pulling back as she hears a familiar song playing in the distance.

[ ♪ Here we stand

Worlds apart, heart broken in two. Two. Two.

Sleepless nights

Losing ground, I'm reaching for you. You. You ♪ ]

|| STEPHANIE!! ||

Her eyes widened, turning around to see some kind of opening in the distance. “Will?” She croaks, and she swears she can see him too.

|| STEPHANIE! WAKE UP! PLEASE! ||

Wake up? I’m asleep? She couldn’t believe it. She really was stuck in her head.

|| STEPHANIE!! ||

“I–” She swallows and takes a step. “I’m coming.”

Her father frowns. “You can’t leave.” He says, snatching her by the arm. She shutters at the sudden voice change, scared again. “We haven’t finished talking.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You told me you weren’t going to do anything stupid! You promised me, Jonathan!” Joyce yells, as her son shakes her head.

“W-We’re not going through this again!” He said, almost laughing.

“Not again? What do you mean?!”

“Mom, seriously!” He points at himself. “Let me do this! Let me find this thing!”

“You want me to allow you to go find some wild, dangerous beast that could possibly take you away or have you killed?” Joyce scoffs. “You’re out of your mind!”

“I’m not out of my mind! I am stopping–”

“You’re not going out there!”

“Yes, I am!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am.” He says, as his expression was something that no one could pinpoint. “Let me prove this to you.”

“Prove what?” She asked, throwing her arms out. ��What so desperately do you have to prove? Prove that this is the stupidest–”

“Let me prove to you that I AM SORRY!!”

Between that sentence and the front door being pounded on at the same time, Joyce was definitely lost for words. But she continues to stare at her son, trying to see if something would come out before another set of knocks came about.

As she makes her way to the door, Jonathan blurts out her name. Part of him was afraid what would happen if that was Nancy; If he thinks his mom is mad now, he could imagine when she puts two-and-two together. He calls her out again just as she opens it, both of them startled by who it was.

Hopper had his finger up in a ‘shushing’ motion, and was holding up a sign that the son couldn’t read until his mother moved out of the way. The sign read: DON’T SAY ANYTHING.

The Chief locks eyes with Jonathan, silently telling him to stay quiet too as he shuts the door. His blue orbs glanced around the room, mostly focusing on the many strings lights that were up.

Oh, Jesus. He thought, realizing this was going to take some time.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The sun was halfway set when the boys arrived at an old, abandoned scrap yard that was up in the hills. When they got about a quarter of the way inside the place, one of them noticed something terrible.

“Oh, no.” Dustin said, after triple checking his surroundings.

“‘Oh, no?’ What’s, ‘Oh, no?’, Henderson?” Steve asked in a teasing way, which will fade in a second when he realizes how serious this was.

“We’re headed back home.”

“What?” Mike perks up.

“Are you sure?” Lucas asked, not buying it.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Dustin points to the sky. “Setting sun, right there. We looped right back around.”

“And you’re just realizing this now?”

“Why is this all on me?”

“Because you’re the compass genius!”

Dustin sighs. “What do yours say?”

Both boys glanced down at theirs and replied, “North.”

“Makes no damn sense.”

“Maybe the gate moved.” Steve asked, trying to think what would be most logical.

The boy frowns. “No, I don’t think it’s the gate. I think it’s something else screwing with the compasses.”

“Maybe it’s something here.” Mike said, gesturing to their surroundings.

Dustin shakes his head. “No, it has to be like a super magnet.”

“It’s not a magnet.” Lucas hiss, bitterly, his eyes landing on the only girl with them. “She’s been acting weirder than normal. If she can slam doors with her mind, she can definitely screw up a compass.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Steve said, half stepping between them, trying to cool him down. “Why would she do that? Isn’t she your friend?”

Lucas ignores him, and swats his arm away. “Because she’s trying to sabotage our mission.” He starts stalking towards her. “Because she’s a traitor!”

“Lucas, what are you doing?” Mike asks, fearfully.

Steve tries to deescalate him again. “Hey, Sinclair, maybe cool it before–”

“Can it, Steve!” He snaps, stopping right in front of El who’s guilt started sprouting full blown. “You did it, didn’t you? You don’t want us to reach the gate. You don’t want us to find them.”

“Lucas, come on, seriously–” Mike rushes up next to him. “Just leave her alone!”

“Admit it.”

“No.” El whispers.

“ADMIT IT!” He snaps, scaring her enough to grab her arm and show off her jacket sleeve that was stained bright red. “Fresh blood. I knew it.”

“Lucas, come on!” Mike says, smacking his hand away from her.

“I saw her wiping her nose on the tracks! She was using her powers!”

“Bullshit! That’s old blood. Right, El?” And Mike’s stomach sank when she didn’t say anything. “Right, El?

“It’s... not…” El chokes back on tears, her lip quivering in shame. “It’s not safe.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After unscrewing a hundred goddamn light bulbs later, Hopper was satisfied enough to realize that the Byers’ household was untouched by the unknown.

“Okay.” He breathes, and collapses into a chair, the adrenaline he’s felt all day has finally given out. “Should be okay, I mean… I can’t guarantee it, but it should be okay.”

“What the hell is going on, Hopper?” Joyce finally asked, still keeping her voice a bit quiet. I mean, all she and her son could do was wait and let the Police Chief raid her house to get some kind of answer.

“They bugged my place.”

“Bugged?” Jonathan asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“They put a microphone in the light.” Hopper sighs, the mental strain finally hitting him hard. “It’s because I’m on to them and they know it. I don’t know…”

“Who?”

“I thought they might be watching you, too.” He shakes his head, shutting his eyes for a second. “I don’t know, the CIA, the NSA, Department of Energy... I-I don’t know.”

“You gotta explain this to us.” Joyce said, getting an agreement from her eldest. “‘Cause we’re not–”

“I went to the morgue last night, Joyce.”

That got their complete attention now. “...What?” She muttered, feeling like she was losing her breath from his words.

“It wasn’t him.” Hopper replies, getting teary eyed.

Jonathan had to hold up his mother who looked like she was about to faint from the news. “W-What do you mean?” He asks, heart pounding in his ears.

“Will’s body, it was a fake. His and Stephanie’s. They’re both fakes.” He stands up to make sure he was looking her in the eye to tell her these words, “You were right. This whole time, you were right. I should have believed you. I am so sorry, Joyce.”

“Oh, my god…” Joyce sobbed into her hands, as her son took a step back to process. “Oh, my god. I mean… w-why though? Why the fakes? Who made the fakes?”

“I don’t know.” Hopper replies, upset himself. “Like I said, someone bugged my place, I don’t know who though. Although…”

“‘Although’… what?

“I saw…” He swallows. “I saw something really strange last night. At the lab.”

“The lab?” She tilts her head. “You went to the lab?”

“I snuck in. I ended up getting punctured with a needle that knocked me out. When I woke up in my trailer, I think the people at the lab were trying to make it seem like I went on binger. My whole table was trashed with beer cans and pills. Bastards.”

“Well what did you see?”

“It’s…” How does he explain this? “First, I ended up in a hospital setting, you know, white walls, beds, cold temperatures. But then I went down lower and… I saw it.”

“Saw what?” She asked, nervously.

“I don’t… I don’t know what it is. It look like a plant, it was on the wall, it was gross looking and sticky and–”

“Was it like a bubble? And it and like a red hue to it and it was pul–”

“Pulsating?” He asked, getting a nod. “You know what I’m talking about?” But before he could get an answer, the teenager had finally spoken.

“So it really is that dangerous…” Jonathan whispers, eyes landing on him.

“What?” Joyce asked, her son started shaking his head.

“Fuck.” He mutters, and starts grabbing his hair. “Fuck…”

“What, Jonathan?! What?”

“Nancy and I both agreed to go look for that thing!” He spills, all distraughtly.

“Wait.” Joyce blinks a few times, trying to wrap her head around what she just said. “Nancy? That’s who you were talking to?!”

“What is going on?” Hopper asked, looking between the two.

“We wanted to find out what happened to Barb.” Jonathan explains. “Nancy… she… she saw that thing when she went to Steve’s house, she–”

“What? What thing?”

“She saw it too?” Joyce cuts Hopper off, intrigued by this shocking news. “What… what were you guys going to do?”

“We were going to kill it!” Jonathan replies, truthfully. “W-We… we agreed to meet at the spot Stephanie’s car was found and… shit.”

“Jonathan–”

“I fucked up.”

“Jonathan.” She pressures, trying to calm him down a smidge. “Maybe she’s by the road. She wouldn’t go exploring on her own. Right?” But her son sends her an un-assuring look that deflates her confidence. “...Right?”

Jonathan frowns, trying to hide how scared he was now. “We need to find Nancy, now.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“What did I tell you?” Lucas explodes. “She’s been playing us from the beginning!”

“That’s not true.” Mike pushes back. “She helped us find Will and Stephanie!”

“Find Will and Stephanie?” He scoffs. “Find Will and Stephanie? Where are they, then?” He starts walking around the place to make a point. “Huh? I don’t see them.”

“Yeah, you know what I mean.”

“No, I actually don’t. Just think about it, Mike. She could’ve just told us where the Upside Down was right away, but she didn’t. She just made us run around like headless chickens.”

“All right, calm down!” Dustin says, cutting between them.

“I’m siding with Henderson on this one.” Steve says, eyes batting back and forth between the two. “Let’s just take a moment to breathe, and figure this out.”

“No!” Lucas yells, not listening to this. “She used us, all of us! She helped just enough so she could get what she wants. Food and a bed. She’s like a stray dog.”

“Screw you, Lucas!” Mike yells back.

“No! Screw you, Mike. You’re blind… blind because you like that a girl’s not grossed out by you. But wake up, man! Wake the hell up! She knows where they are, and now she’s just letting them die in the Upside Down.

Mike balls his hand in a fist, trying to contain his own anger. “Shut up.”

“For all we know, it’s her fault.” Lucas says, jerking his thumb towards her.

“Shut up.”

“Sinclair–” Steve warns.

“We’re looking for some stupid monster… but did you ever stop to think that maybe she’s the monster?”

“I said shut up!” Mike shouts, and tackles him to the ground.

“Stop!” El yells, worriedly.

“Knock it off, you idiots.” Dustin says, as he tries to get close.

“Stop it!”

“Oh, my– Wheeler, get off!” Steve says, and tries pulling the boys off one another. But for being only kids, they were putting up one hell of a fight to stay on top for dominance.

The shouting between Steve and Dustin went back and forth, and all their efforts to stop it suddenly ended when the girl behind them screamed ear piercingly. All of them could only watch helplessly as Lucas was flung off, hitting the ground hard, and landing against one of the scrapped vehicles.

“Jesus Christ!” Steve shouted, and raced over to the boy.

“Lucas! Lucas!” Mike yells, shaking him on the shoulder. “Lucas, are you all right?

“Lucas.” Dustin says, doing the same. “Lucas, come on!”

“Hey, hey! Careful with his neck!” Steve urges, moving their hands away as carefully examines the boy. “Shit… come on, kid.”

“Why would you do that?” Mike snaps at Eleven, who was trembling again. “What’s wrong with you? Huh?!” He could believe she would do something like this. "What is wrong with you?!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“What’s wrong with you?” Stephanie croaked, trembling at the way his voice changed into something almost demonic. He know longer sounded like the man who was supposed to be her father. “Why do you sound like that?”

Along with the voice change, his whole demeanor seemed different too. The way he stood, the way he smiled and his eyes seemed dead, yet controlling.

“Admit it…” He whispers with fire on his silver tongue. “You’re tired, you really don’t want to live anymore.”

Her throat started to feel tight again, her body was aching too. Whatever was holding her down earlier was trying to latch onto her again. “I-I…”

“You don’t want to live anymore because everything’s gone to shit.” He gestures around, still having that stupid smug on his face. “Your long friendship with Steve is over, crushed because you were an embarrassment to him.”

She shakes her head. “N-No.”

“Even after what happened at the dance, it meant nothing to him. That he didn’t love you like you thought he did.”

“St-Stop it.”

“You try to fill the gaping hole by hanging out with your brother, but he’s growing up, he’s got friends when you don’t have any. He’s already pushing you away to be with them. You’re an envious freak.”

“I’m not.” His jabs were like sticking an imaginary knife in her heart, and for some reason, deep down, she knows his jabs have some truth to them.

“Your own mother knows you’re in a rut, knows you’ve been lying to her, but you don’t want her help. You love the abyss.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about–”

“And you… are failing to keep your promise to the boy.” He says, making her gasp. “You told Will you were going to get him out, but you don’t even know how.” It was another stab to her heart. “You’re having doubts.” And another. “You’re having thoughts about how you’re never going to get out.”

“N-No…” She whispers, on the verge of tears once more, and he wasn’t done with his troubling words.

“How you’re thinking in what way the No-Face beast will get you both. Do you let it take a bite out of you first, and let the boy be a desert? Or…” His expression grows sinisterly. “Do you let it take the boy first as a mercy kill?”

Stephanie sobs, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. “N-No… No…”

“I think… that’s what you think is best. Let the boy’s suffering end quickly.”

“N-No…” She shakes her head before grabbing the sides of it. “I… I…” She sobs again. “W-Will…”

|| STEPHANIE! ||

He calls out again, but it’s barely audible, and the music is starting to sound distant again.

“I… I don’t know… I don’t know…” Stephanie said, brain feeling like it was going to melt with everything going on.

“Come.” Her father beckons. “Let it all go.” He opens his arms out wide, like he is asking for a hug as the abyss grows back around them, blocking some of the light. “You can rest, my dear daughter.”

Then the room sprinkled with a little red, and the sound of an old grandfather clock chimed around in an echo. The sound… seemed scary, but strangely welcoming. It was telling her to find it, and she almost wanted to.

“Let all go, Child.” He urges, his voice now echoing as well. “You know you want to.”

She wants to, she really wants to. But something was keeping her from doing that, something inside was telling her to stay away.

“But–” She managed to say before ‘Separate Ways’ was turned up to max volume. She screams, her head pounding as the room gets brighter again, along with Will’s voice.

|| WAKE UP! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP! ||

“Will…” She says, looking at the opening before her head was magically moved back in her father’s direction.

“But don’t you want to leave it all behind?!” He screams. “The bad memories? The times you were called a freak? The times you were forgotten or ignored? Unloved? The times that people told you you weren’t good enough for him?”

That was another piercing to her aching heart. “B-But, Steve’s just–”

|| STEPHANIE! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?! WAKE UP! ||

Will. She needed to get back to Will. She didn’t need all this crap to be happening!

She tries to stand her ground as firmly as she can. “What is going on?”

Of course, he ignores her question and presses on harder. “Don’t you want to be free?! Give in! Forget all the bad times you’ve had! Give in!”

“But–”

And then she feels like she lost the opportunity to get the upper hand.

She gasps harshly as she feels something wrap around her throat, squeezing it tight. She feels her body freeze, and something grabbing onto her limbs to hold her place. Her father, or whoever he is now, looked even more deranged as he gave her look like he was trying to shatter her mind. And maybe he was, maybe he really was the one responsible for the tingling feeling inside, the feeling like her whole life force was being drained. She swears she can hear Will screaming her name again, but the hold on her was drowning out most of her senses.

Her father, the being, grinned even wider as his hand reached out to hover over her face. “Now… Give in, dear child.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Stephanie!” Will cries out in desperation, giving her another shake. Why isn’t the music working?! It worked for me!

This can’t be happening. This can’t be how he loses Stephanie. What was he supposed to do if she ended up dead? And what would he tell her family? Tell his family? How will they even believe him?

“Stephanie, come on! Wake up! Please!” He felt his own set of tears start rolling down his delegate cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you!”

I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to lo– His pleas were cut off when her body slipped away from his hands. In something he’s only seen in horror films, he watches the teenager start floating into the air.

Way, way, way up into the air.

He couldn’t even jump up to touch her, grab her to pull her down as she was descending up into the night sky, limbs jittering like they were trying to spring free.

Will didn’t know what else to do but scream her name.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Lucas wakes up in a flash, his friends sighing with relief, and the teenager silently thanking the universe he was alright (He wasn’t sure how they were going to explain this to anyone if he didn’t wake up soon).

“Lucas.” Mike says, happily. “Lucas, you okay?”

“Lucas…” Dustin begins, watching him slowly prop himself up, mind wandering. “Lucas, how many fingers am I holding up?” He holds up three. “Lucas, how many fingers?”

“Hey…” Steve begins, reaching out. “Let me see your head–”

“Get off of me!” Lucas snaps, swatting everyone away.

“Lucas, just let us see–” Mike urges, which results in another slap.

“Get off of me!” He says again, standing up this time, and storming away.

“Lucas, come on.”

“Let him go.” Dustin replies, stopping him by the arm.

“But what if he–”

“He needs to cool down.”

Steve frowns, still worried that the kid might have a concussion, but what could he do? The kid was irritated, probably still didn’t like him, so more likely he wouldn’t listen (and he wasn’t listening to his friends anyway, so…).

He sighs, running a hand through his locks, thinking. “This is… insane. That little girl really does have powers.”

“Told you.” Mike said, head hung low in shame.

“Hey, relax. Your friend just needs to–” Steve frowns after counting who was present. “Where is she?”

Dustin and Mike’s eyes begin bolting around in the low light, searching for any signs of her. Them and Steve started shouting her name, concern was evident, and time was the essence. Did she really take off? Did she really feel that guilty about everything she just had to leave?

“I…” Mike begins, getting mad at himself. “I knew I should have yelled at her like that!”

“Hey, you had every right to do so. She did fling Lucas.” Dustin points out.

“Yeah, but we need her! We need her to find that gate for us.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like she was never going to.”

Mike frowns, that sentence punching him right in the gut. Maybe Lucas was right. Maybe he really was being played for a fool this whole time. “Even if she wasn’t, we still got to find her.”

“We can try, but it’s getting dark.” Dustin says, gesturing to the fading sun. “We don’t even have flashlights.”

“Well, then we’ll go back to our houses to get some.”

“Mike–”

“We have to!”

“Mike, our parents are not going to let us out. Especially if Lucas tells his parents he got hurt hanging out with us today.”

“But–”

“Hey, listen to Henderson, alright?” Steve cuts in, his mind made up about something.

“But, we have to go look for her, Steve!” Mike pushes.

“I get that, but your parents are going to expect you home. And they probably are going to bug me on why we were out so late. So you’re going home.”

“But El–”

“I will look for her.”

Mike blinks. “What?”

“I will look for her, okay?” Steve repeats. “I will go back to my house to change and grab some supplies, and then I’ll come right back here and search around.”

Dustin looks surprised. “You’re actually willing to do that?”

“Yeah. I am.” He nods. “I’ll do my best to try to find her, and if I do, maybe I can convince her to actually help us. Or get her to at least explain why finding this isn’t safe.” He looks between them while finishing with, “But you two need to go home. Let’s not worry your parents. Especially you Henderson. Let’s not make your mom worry about another kid.”

Dustin averts his eyes away, feeling a bit ashamed at the thought of hurting his mother like that. He was so hung up on finding this gate that he didn’t wonder how she must be feeling right now. And she thinks she just buried her daughter today. I can only imagine how worried she is.

“So does that sound reasonable to you guys?” Steve asks, interrupting their thoughts.

“Yeah.” Mike says, nodding. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Good.” He looks at them worriedly before waving for them to start walking. “Let’s head back.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When they arrived they saw her car parked on the side of the road with no one inside. The three of them never got out and slammed their doors that quickly before, as they ran into the woods, flashlights and weapons in hand.

“NANCY!” Jonathan called out, his heart racing what he might find. She had to be okay. He wasn’t sure how he would live with himself if she wasn’t. So he screams out her name again, both his mother and Hopper joining in.

“Nancy!” Joyce yells, running to look behind every nook and cranny amongst the trees and shrubs. “Nancy!”

“Nancy Wheeler!” Hopper shouts, eyes glue to the ground, looking for any signs of life.

“Nancy! Where are you?!”

“Nancy!” Jonathan tries again, the guilt in his gut has started to take huge chunks of him now. “Fuck. Fuck…”

“Hey.” His mother says, getting his attention. “Don’t beat yourself up yet. We just started.”

“How can I not, mom?! For all I know is, she’s that thing’s dinner.”

“You don’t know that.” She shakes her head. “You don’t know that.”

“Mom, please, I–”

“Hey!” Hopper says while snapping his fingers. “We might have a problem.” He waited for them to get closer for him to shine his flashlight down by his feet, and there was a trail of blood that stretched further into the woods. “It’s fresh.” He frowns, nervously. “Come on.”

They start following the trail, their breaths caught in their throats. What if this was hers? What if that thing did show up and caught her? Was she still alive? Was she badly hurt? What would the outcome be?

“NANCY!” Jonathan calls out once more, half expecting no reply until–

“Jonathan!”

The three of them paused, startled to hear a girl’s voice. He says her name again, and gets the same reply.

“Shit–” Hopper curses and bolts off, the two of them hot on his tail.

“Nancy!” Jonathan shouts again, the blood path ends right at a tree trunk. But what was at the base of the tree is what made him gag, the sight of something so disgusting with veins oozing out of the bark like it was infected.

Joyce gasps sharply. “T-That’s it! That was what was on my wall!”

“And that’s what I saw in the lab.” Hopper replies, crouching down with the rest of them. He brushes away some of the sticky cobwebs, a red hue covering his hand. “What the hell is this th–”

“JONATHAN!!”

The three of them flinched when they heard her voice again.

Her voice that was…

Coming out of the tree.

“Nancy!” Jonathan’s eyes widened as slams his fist into the tree, trying to see if he got the bubble to pop. He wasn’t going to lose her like this. Not when she was literally at their fingertips. He tries again, and again, screaming her name.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Stephanie heard her name again in the far distance, and all she could do was move her crying eyes towards the opening. Even in this… whatever this place was, the light was trying to come in, trying to save her from giving in, but…

It was getting so hard to not give in.

She felt his fingers start brushing the sides of her face, drowning out her favorite song that was likely the last time she’ll ever hear it.

So this is it. She thought, depressingly. This is how she dies. Not by the cold, nor the starvation, and nor getting killed by the beast, no. She was going to die by an imagination of her father. She felt some more tears roll down her paralyzed body, and started accepting her fate.

If this is it, then I guess I’ve lived… a pretty decent life. She starts closing her eyes, her soul in this force’s grasp–

|| STEPHANIE! WAKE UP! ||

Will… I’m so sorry. Her heart clenches for him. I failed you… I am so–

|| PLEASE, WAKE UP! I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU! ||

She gasps quietly. Will…

|| I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU! NOT LIKE THIS! PLEASE! ||

He’s… he’s not mad at me?

|| WE’RE SUPPOSED TO GET OUT OF THIS TOGETHER! ||

But, I–

|| WE ARE GOING TO GET OUT OF THIS TOGETHER! SO FIGHT IT! ||

Fight it? Can she? Can she get out of this hold?

Her father must have realized she was thinking this and intervened. “You don’t want to fight it. You want to give in. Let it all go.” He says, making her start doubting again.

Maybe… I should.

|| WHATEVER HAS A HOLD ON YOU, YOU NEED TO FIGHT! FIGHT IT! COME BACK TO ME! ||

Another gasp.

Come back to me.

He wants her to come back to him. He wants her too. He wants her to be with him.

He wants me to be with him. He actually does.

|| REMEMBER WHAT YOU’RE FIGHTING FOR! WE HAVE TO GO HOME! WE HAVE TO GET HOME TO OUR FAMILIES! REMEMBER WHAT WE HAVE WAITING FOR US WHEN WE GET HOME! ||

Remember.

Remember what she has waiting for her.

Remember.

Remember everything that brings her joy.

// Dustin, meet your big sister // Her Mother said, placing the tiny baby in her arms. Stephanie remembers how happy she was to become a big sister. She remembers how much that title meant to her.

She remembers the clown costume she wore for one Halloween. The first one she was hanging out with her brother and his friends. They all decided that year to dress as their D&D characters, and how happy they were when their costume were finally done being made – and how much candy they scored from the creativity of it all.

She remembers her mom teaching her to sew. She ripped a hole in her favorite shirt, and her mother was patient and kind enough to show how to do it the next time it happens.

// Thanks, mom //

// Anytime, sweetheart //

It rained halfway through the concert, that warm season rain. But the band kept playing, Munson even cracking a joke about it in the middle of their song. Stephanie laughed in excitement, slicking her locks back from her face as her and the crowd cheered them on.

// This is amazing // She said, looking at her friend. // Thank you //

// Even with the rain? // Steve asked, smiling fondly.

// Even with the rain // And she smiles back.

// This is the best gift ever! // The eight year old birthday boy, Dustin, shouts, and holds up a vintage X-Men comic. // Thank you, Phanie! //

He almost knocks her over, hugging her tightly and giving one of his rare kisses to her cheek.

// Hey… Hey… I wanna… I wanna tell you something // Steve slurs, leaning his upper body against the cafeteria table. The two of them had snuck away from the ‘Snow Ball’ and decided to be a little naughty. He somehow managed to sneak in some alcohol to celebrate them going into the Teen Years.

Stephanie giggles, a bit of a ditzy drunk. // W-What? Spit it out, S-Stevie //

// Ooookay… // He leans forward more. // Fia… I… I l-love you //

She hums, smiling. // Well, I love you too, Steve. //

// Noooo, no. N-Not like that. // He says, partially laying half his body over the table now to grab her hand. // Like… I love you, love you //

She remembers the second day of being here in this strange place. And despite how scared she was for her and Will, she honestly enjoyed the boy’s company. He reminded her of so much like Dustin, just a bit quieter, unless you were talking about his favorite things.

Steph shakes her head with a sigh. // Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to prove him wrong when I play //

// So you are going to play with us! // Will said, joyfully, like you just told him Christmas was coming early.

// If that’s how I prove Lucas wrong, then so be it. So how does one newbie play D&D? // She asked, hopefully this will keep him occupied.

The last thing she remembers is Steve pressing his lips into hers, proving his point that he loves her more than a friend.

Stephanie doesn’t know what possessed her, but she snaps her eyes open and uses her new found strength to push her father away from her. Like she was being held by rope, the invisible hold snapped and she fell to her knees, gasping in air.

Will. I got to get to Will. She tells herself, as she feels someone looming over her. She takes a look and screams. Whoever replaced the appearance of her father was someone who looked inhumane. Its whole body looked burned and bent, some hair stuck out from the top of its head, and it had an eye that looked like it had been blinded. Its pissed off expression was enough to make her scramble away and break for the opening at the end of the darkness.

She took only a split second to look back as she felt like she broke through an invisible barrier, the gambling room was gone and replaced with an area that was covered in gross vines and scattered in a crimson color. A storm brewed above her, in its own version of thunder and lightning. The figure stayed in one place, watching her try to run away before deciding to create some obstacles.

Stephanie felt the ground shake beneath her, and watched as what looked like spikes shot up and out of the bloody ground. She shrieked and dodged the best she could, trying to stay more hopeful when she could hear ‘Separate Ways’ again, and Will’s cries for her not to give up.

I can’t give up! I have to go home! She hears her inner thoughts echoed, along with somebody else’s. As she continues breaking into a sprint, something catches her eye. Alongside her she can see a few silhouettes that seemed to be running at the same pace as her. She blinks and turns to the otherside, seeing the same thing.

‘I can’t give up!’ They all shouted, but she couldn’t pinpoint the voices or who these people were supposed to be.

Is this another trick? Or were these other victims of this place?

Her thoughts were cut off when something fell from the sky, knocking her over, dousing her red. She wastes not a second of hesitation to push herself back up and run, the silhouettes disappearing from her sight. Now, she has to put all her focus on the opening that was starting to grow smaller and smaller.

She balls her hands into fists, pushing herself to the limit. She hears her name being screamed, and the room rattling more. And as she gets closer and closer to the light, she prays she’d make it through – taking the literal leap of faith, she jumps with all her might into glow…

She screams awake, and begins free falling to the ground.

“Stephanie!” Will shouts, as the girl went splat across the ground. “Stephanie!”

Steph screams again, shooting up a sitting position as she claws the walkman off her head. She takes in a whole gulp of air that sounds like she’s choking, and panting at the same time. The thought of her almost dying was repeating over and over again on a loop in her mind.

“Stephanie!” He cries out, and tackles her for a hug. “Stephanie…” He squeezes her tight, the reality of it all settling in for the both of them. Tears were rolling down his face as he buried his head into her neck. “Steph… I-I thought I lost you. I r-really, really d-did.”

It took a split second before she broke down crying too, sobbing loudly as she wrapped her arms around him in the same vice grip. The thought of almost leaving him alone in this place scared her so much.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She whispers, trying to comfort them both. “I’m okay… You saved me…” She hears him start bawling at her words making her break even more. “You saved me… you really did save me…”

And that was one hundred percent the truth.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve manages to get the kids home, bidding them goodbye and reassuring Mike that he was in fact going out to look for El. He just needs to go home first to change out of his suit and get the appropriate equipment. When he arrived home a little after nine, he noticed all the lights were off, and felt a bit of relief.

Good. I can get in and out. But his hopes were just burned at the stake, ‘cause as soon as he opens the door, the living room light turns on. He freezes and winces when he knows who it is.

“You went to her funeral?” His mother said, arms crossed as she was sitting in a chair.

Jesus Christ, of course… He keeps a straight face to look at her. “My girlfriend asked me to come to Will Byers’ funeral. He was the best friend of her brother. The only reason I went to Stephanie’s is because it was a joint funeral.”

“Joint funeral?” Jessica asks, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Yeah.” He nods. “The families are close, and they both died together so…”

She hums, standing up, walking over to get right in his face. “You’re not lying to me, are you, Steven?”

“No, Mom. Why would I lie to you?”

“‘Cause you have before.”

“Well not this time. I went there to support Nancy and family through this hard time.”

She hums again, buying his lie this time. “Okay. Just checking.” Then she sighs. “It’s a shame though, the Wheelers are close to those Byers. Not exactly a classy family.”

Steve felt his blood boil a bit, and had to hold his tongue. He should have foreseen her saying something like this.

“But…” She continues. “You are dating a Wheeler, so I can let that slide.”

Oh, he really wants to say something to her now, but he doesn’t want to start a war. At least not yet. “Where’s dad?”

“Sleeping. Long day at the office for him.”

“Sounds like it.” Steve shifts his stance. “Uh, listen, I’m going to uh, hit the hay myself.” He starts making his way towards the stairs. “Night, mom.”

“You going to shower first?” Jessica asks, stopping him again.

He quietly sighs, no point in pushing back. “Yeah, mom, I’ll shower first.”

“Good.” She smiles, and squeezes his shoulder as she passes by. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He lets her go up the stairs first and up to her room before doing the same. Their interaction wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be, probably because he didn’t push back on her like he sometimes did. Steve snags some comfortable clothes in his room while stepping inside the bathroom, turning the shower on. Knowing his mother, she was probably staying up and waiting to see if he actually listened to her “suggestion”.

Sicko. He thought, shedding off his funeral wear to change into the extras. He cleans his face off, thinking of his plan. El could have gone anywhere, and he wasn’t sure what a one man show like him can do about it. But he’s made a promise to the boys, one that he has to keep.

And for my sake, I have to find her. I need to know if she’s okay.

He has to.

He needs to.

She might be the key to finding Stephanie.

(TBC)

-A/N: Fin! Thanks for sticking for the two parts :) -

-Taglist is Open-

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laughableillusions · 1 year ago

Text

Random Jareth HCs

I talk so much abt him and I have some silly ideas :3c

If he stays in owl form too long he has some trouble changing back. He gets kind of stuck a bit between. He chitters like a barn owl in “human” form, can screech like one if mad. There’s feathers in his hair, and sometimes he still has bird-feet. The worst case was when his arms were still big useless wings. It goes away after a while but he’s impatient as hell and will sulk about it and punish anyone who dares laugh at him for his chicken feet.

Jareth actually runs cold. He can change his body temperature if needed, but it’s very surface level. Usually he’s around room temperature (like a corpse). Cuddling or any close physical contact will warm his body up.

His hands are strangely rough under his gloves, they’re rough and hard like stone. He almost never removes his gloves because his touch alone can cause serious magic shit to happen if he isn’t careful. The glamour he uses to keep his more human form doesn’t really extend to his hands for whatever reason (his truest form is made of stone), so he wears gloves to sort of hide it.

Music lover, I mean duh. He sings and dances ofc, but he actually knows very little about modern music. His knowledge of humanity is still stuck in the 18th century. While he would like the idea of things like CD players and MP3 players etc etc, he will always prefer live performances, be it himself or watching someone else. He would probably go to a lot of concerts just to see what the music vibe is these days.

Doesn’t do well in human crowds. A masquerade ball in his castle is one thing, it’s his realm, it’s other fae. But you put him in a shopping mall or grocery store??? He is not having a good time. Mostly because he sees most humans as beneath him (except for the few he decides are special little princesses/princes lol). Modern humans apparently have a stench to him, and he finds it disgusting when “in concentration.”

He can make any small child stop crying however. If Toby proved anything it showed how good with kids Jareth is. He can entertain any small child with ease. Though it starts to freak the parents out when he starts talking about how much he wants to steal them away from their mothers. The man loves kids, and hopes one day he can actually keep a human baby to raise as his own.

Unbearably physically clingy. Like…unbearably. He’d be attached to his lover like a parasite whenever they try to go anywhere without him. If he can’t touch you, he’s standing behind you with his hands behind his back to keep himself from touching you. Like Jesus Christ man back up you’re not gonna go anywhere‼️‼️

Has a jealousy problem as well. With his stuff and his lovers. You do not touch his stuff without asking him, or until he lends it to you. With romantic jealousy, it’s about the same. Nobody touches what he deems his. He has enough dignity not to cause a public scene, but will glare at anyone who dares flirt with his lover- or if he thinks your not paying attention to him enough, he will give you the cold shoulder until you shove him aside and ask him what the fuck is going on.

Enjoys playing mind games. Though he’s too much of a romantic to do things that would really hurt you, at least intentionally. But his fae nature gives him a bastard side that sometimes can’t help it. But really, he would hate to actually fight with you. The last thing he wants is for you to be genuinely upset, and so will bend over backwards to keep you happy.

Speaking of that, Jareth is 100% a doormat to the ones he loves. He’s been alone for centuries (if not more). And any hope of validation he will chase like a kicked puppy. But everything he does, he expects something in return. (ex: I am exhausted by your expectations of me, isn’t that generous?) Fae are deal makers after all, and so he will create a beautiful ideallic place for you to live…but in return he expects your devotion and loyalty. It seems like a small price, until it isn’t. Sometimes, in exchange for a favor he does for you, he will ask for something in return (be it a task, or an a object).

As hedonistic and mischievous as he is, Jareth is quite emotionally intelligent. His age gives him wisdom, and sometimes it’s like he knows exactly just what to say. Humans have such predictable emotions after all, and he can use his knowledge of them as a form of manipulation if he wants/needs to. But to someone he loves, he would bring perfect comfort to. He will try and make you laugh, then ask if you want him to stay with you or leave you be, anything you ask if it would make you less upset and more comfortable he will do (doormat). If you want him to read you a bedtime story? Do a handstand? He’d fucking do it.

#Jareth #jareth the goblin king #labyrinth 1986 #labyrinth #headcanon post #jareth x reader #my headcanons

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 2 years ago

Note

can you do hcs of dating grayson hawthorne?

grayson hawthorne x fem! reader

hcs about meeting & dating the heir apparent of the hawthorne family.

a/n: ofc!! thx sm for the request & sorry for the wait!! i just got a new one also requesting grayson so this one goes out to you too anon!! grayson hawthorne is one of the lomls🫶 i am so indecisive between him & jameson fr (but for avery i think jameson is better suited for her). hope u enjoy!! i'm a sucker for the poor x rich trope sorry & i love tobias lowkey playing match maker in these LOL & this follows some of the main story but then kinda trails off

word count: 6.8k

warnings: almost drowning (LOL), minor mature language, few spoliers for final gambit i guess?,

before you were dating the second oldest hawthorne, you were just a girl working part-time at a diner as a waitress, trying to make enough money to buy a car. you were relentlessly getting picked up/dropped off everywhere by either one of your parent's vehicles.

being a waitress wasn't ideal when dealing with rude customers, pretentious managers, and occasional annoying co-workers, but you had decent pay, and tips weren't too bad.

most of the time you were running the show on your own. serving tables, acting as hostess, dealing with unsatisfied customers, etc. it wasn’t even the lack of staff, it was lazy behaviors of your co-workers and manager - who got the job because her dad owns the business.

one peculiar afternoon you were doing your usual job of serving tables and taking orders when an older gentleman walked in, way classier than your usual customers. you seated him, gave him a menu, and then returned to the kitchen to serve your other tables.

the diner staff seemed to be murmuring words and glancing back at the man, but you didn't pay any mind to it. it wasn't unusual for you to catch staff gossiping about customers.

going back to the table, you gave him the complimentary water and then asked for his beverage of choice - he chose a simple black coffee. you went to the kitchen and returned with his drink. you were on the verge of asking for his meal order, but he looked preoccupied with a crossword puzzle.

you peaked over, and noticed he looked possibly stuck, so you offered your help because you often did crosswords when you were bored. "do you mind if i take a look?"

he said nothing, only gesturing his head toward his little crossword booklet and pen beside it. even his pen looked fancy.

you looked over the one he was one, and after reading the hint and the number of boxes for the word, you could figure it out.

"tatersall."

the old man peered at you as if you spoke a different language.

"it's fabric with checks and lines, the phrase is a bit old-fashioned. i only know it 'cause that's what my dad refers to his shirts as." you explained.

he looked intrigued by your words, as if you'd given him an idea. he thanked you, then went on to fill out the boxes.

words were said much after that. he drank his coffee and left sometime while you were busy serving other tables. when you returned to ask him if he wanted anything else, he was already gone. but not before leaving $200 dollar tip next to his finished coffee.

you thoroughly checked if it was real, not believing anyone would purposely leave such a tip for a cup of black coffee. but in fact, it was very real. and you even bought yourself a very cute dress to commemorate. just to double check it was legit, of course.

the older man with silver-blue eyes continued to come into the diner every few days, never ordering anything other than a black coffee and always being generous with the tip.

you two had polite conversations and odd ones rooted questions he dropped on you. you noticed a lot of them pertained to money and contributions. but you never passed on answering.

they were questions like "what jobs have you worked?", "what are your parents' occupations?", "are you interested in charities and donations?", and "what do you do with the money you earn?"

thru these visits, he finally gave you his name, tobias. it shouldn't had surprised you he had a unique name to match his unique personality.

you didn't get much information about tobias. all he revealed to you was he enjoyed games, was obviously wealthy, and has 2 daughters, one son, and 4 grandsons - who weren't too off from your age.

he liked to talk about a certain one, the second oldest, grayson. you created an image he was a closed-off, goal-driven, cunning, and loyal guy. you didn’t wanna jump to conclusions, but one could say he was slyly trying to set you up with him.

it wasn’t uncommon for grandparents to come in the diner and rave about their grandsons. at times they would even show you a multitude of photos saying how handsome they are and well-raised gentlemen who would be a great match for you.

you never had the heart to straight up tell them ‘not interested’, so you listened to their praises and then fabricated a lie as to why you were unable to date their grandson.

if tobias ever were to ever try and do that you would use the same methods. you were sure his grandson was an acceptable man, but you had no interest in going on a blind date with anytime soon.

however, the conversation didn't maneuver that direction; instead, he went on to talk about how grayson was in charge of a foundation he owns and basically manages everything.

you found that rather impressive, considering he was only eight-teen. then you thought, 'just how rich is this guy?'

this arrangement continued for a few more weeks and then it turns into a constant routine for months. still never ordering anything order than a coffee, and leaving after.

one day, tobias abruptly stopped coming into the diner. and after a two-week hiatus, you figured he was likely not returning again.

you didn't realize how tedious work was without the old man's presence, you were still as busy as ever doing everyone's job, but now you didn't have the levity from your conversations.

it stayed like that for the following three months, no word from tobias. you wanted to contact him somewhere, but you began to realize how little you knew of him, hell you didn't even know his last name. he knew all the basics of what comprised you, but you couldn't even say his favorite color. and you’d known this man for almost a year.

but as it turned out, you didn't need to contact him yourself because a man came into the diner asking for you.

at first, you thought it was an unsatisfied customer here to berate you some more; it wouldn't be the first time. but you were more than relieved it was a guy you'd never seen before, a particularly handsome and well-fitted one.

you went up to the man and politely greeted him, asking how you could help him. he took you presence in when you appeared, looking up and down. it wasn't in a 'checking-you-out' type way, it was of an 'i'm judging what type of person you are' way. you felt scrutinized in your lousy diner girl uniform. it didn't help he was dressed pristinely from head to toe.

he finally spoke, "it's pertaining to my grandfather, tobias hawthorne."

you were piqued up at the mention of tobias, this was the first time you'd heard of his last name, but you didn't know any other tobias's so it must be him.

the man in front of you was one of his infamous grandsons he loved to chat about, although you weren't sure which one. but based on his stern and disciplined attitude, you'd place your bets on grayson. but just to be sure you asked.

"right, my name is grayson hawthorne." you called it. "unfortunately, my grandfather has recently passed. my family is in the middle of gathering everyone for the matter of the will, but all parties must be preset. my grandfather's law firm has informed me you are also mentioned in it."

your heart broke at the reveal of tobias passing. you knew him less than a year, but you still had formed a connection with him.

then the other portion of his statement dawned on you, he mentioned you in his will. why?

grayson seemed to have wanted to know this too. he said tobias mentioned you in passing but didn't offer details about your relationship. he didn't hide how he was suspecting and untrusting of you.

you filled him in on details of how you met, your meetings, and the last time you conversed with him. grayson was still wary of you, but he didn't have any reason yet to say you were lying.

he then urged you to gather your belongings because the two of you had to head over to his family's residence as soon as possible. he has already informed your boss of your leave of absence.

it was all so sudden, you were still processing all this information. grayson's insistence made it nearly impossible to do anything but listen.

so, grayson took you home to change and pack a few items. you left a note for your parents, letting them know you'd be spending a night or two at a friend's house. you knew if you explained what was really going on they would not let you go; they'd probably even scold you for befriending a random old man at work, calling you naive.

although, that had merit because you were currently off with a man you knew for like five seconds because you believed he was the grandson of a man who you also didn't know for too long.

you thought the chance of getting kidnapped was better than overworking at the diner.

you were astounded when grayson casually took you to the destination of his private jet. you'd never flown first class, let alone a private freaking jet.

you two took off, and a few hours later, arrived in texas. the moment you stepped off, a bodyguard guided the two of you into a limousine. from there, you sought off to the mansion.

when you arrived, you thought you'd been driven to some sort of fancy hotel, but not it was where grayson and the rest of the hawthorne lived. you'd likely get lost trying to go from the kitchen to your bedroom.

grayson had to physically drag you away from your jaw-dropped stare at the property.

when you entered the entrance hall , another girl was already there, an older girl with her as well.

she turned her attention toward you when she noticed you entering, she seemed to have recognized grayson, but had a questioning gaze toward you.

the older girl was the one to speak to you first. “and here i thought we’d already met everyone affiliated with this crazy rich family. hi, i’m libby and this is my sister avery. are you grayson’s girlfriend?”

you could’ve died from awkwardness right there. you didn’t even wanna take a glance at grayson’s reaction, you imagined he would have a look of discontent.

“er, no. we just met today actually. he came into my work saying i’m needed for a will reading, and next thing i know im off in a private jet and in this mansion.”

this time avery spoke up, “sorry about libby’s assumption. it was just because you guys came in together and he’s carrying your bag.”

grayson was in fact hold your small luggage bag. he taken the liberty of taking it out of the trunk of the limo and carried it since.

you didn’t say anything, you just snatched your bag out of grayson’s hands, mumbling a quiet thanks.

grayson let out a laugh, but covered it up as a cough.

avery talked about her situation being similar to yours, except she’s never met tobias hawthorne before. it made you feel better there was someone else who felt like an outsider.

you were led away by grayson, guiding you to the room the will was being read. but you ran into a numerous amount of people on the way.

first, it was xander, the youngest hawthorne grandson. he appeared out of secret passage, jump scaring you. then he introduced himself.

nash, who had a country accent, followed a bit after walking in with his mother skye. she asked you a few invading questions about yourself, and you replied cordially. very relieved when grayson excused you both.

finally, you’d met jameson on accident. you were on the way to the bathroom, using directions given to you, and that’s when you bumped into him. he was very obviously drunk. he slurred a few words, but you quickly excused yourself, not wanting to deal with whatever was going on with him.

once you were finally in the room, you took a seat next to avery since she and her sister were the best options.

finally the will reading began, and the lawyers started reciting its words and designated belongs and money to different family members. all the families were stunned that the grandsons, especially grayson, hadn't gotten the entire fortune. yours and averys names had yet to be mentioned.

"to my newfound friend y/n l/n, i leave conservatorship to the hawthorne foundation. the remainder of my estate, including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, i leave it to be shared upon y/n l/n and avery kylie grambs."

nothing could have you prepared for that. you thought it was a prank at first, some sick joke rich people do that get less-than-fortunate people's hopes up. but no, the lawyer did indeed confirm it to be true.

avery and yourself turned toward each other wide-eyed, completely flabbergasted. then the whole room erupted into chaos, everyone standing up to demand an explanation, accusing you both of having done something.

you had just met these people, and you couldn't for sure say they were capable of murder, but you'd seen enough movies about the rich to know it's definitely a possibility.

luckily, oren, tobias' (now ex) bodyguard, stood in front of you girls, preventing the hawthornes from stepping any closer. he claimed he worked for you both now, so it was his job to protect you.

"should we trust this guy? what if he's just playing us to get the inheritance." avery whispered to you.

"a bodyguard with ulterior motives is better than being left to the wolves."

"good point." libby chimed in.

it didn't end there; there were conditions for the will, saying you and avery must remain at the hawthorne estate for a full year to receive the inheritance.

so not only did you become enemy number one toward most hawthornes, but now you had to live with all of them. lovely.

that jump-started your now future of being involved with the hawthornes (and the grambs sisters)

after the will fiasco, the grayson made it his mission to unmask whatever game you played to get the inheritance, but he always came up empty-handed because you, as you insisted to multiple hawthornes, did not manipulate tobias. you didn't even know the guy's last name until you had met grayson.

if you had a talent for taking advantage of rich men, you would not be wasting time being a waitress for a shitty diner.

however, you tried to look on the very bright side of things, living in a gorgeous mansion. your bedroom was the size of your home's first floor. you;'d never slept on a comfier or larger bed.

one thing that set you apart from avery in the will was that you had complete ownership in the hawthorne foundation and his involvement with different charities. alissa had informed you that you'd need to learn to manage it- designating which associations to donate to, how much, how often, etc.

it was overwhelming to think about; if you failed to be a conservator, it would be given to the grandsons. you also knew having authority over it bothered zara hawthorne, since she'd spent basically her whole life running it. you knew it you were to make a wrong move, she'd be quick to call it out you.

alissa had arranged for you to go to the foundation and meet with someone who'd help you navigate the ropes. a part of you assumed it'd be zara meeting you there, maybe forced by alissa to help you. but instead, it was grayson, who still thought you were some master con woman.

he was the only grandson that had an issue with you and avery, but for some reason, you were more suspicious to him. xander, jameson, and nash seemed to have adjusted to events and were now somewhat friends with you. it was pretty infuriating how grayson would not listen to reason, no matter how much you tried to make amends.

grayson remained professional, not wanting his personal feud to hinder the foundation's work. he started giving you a tour and explaining an overview of how things ran. it became easier for you to imagine yourself running it.

you stopped when you passed by various black and white photos hung up in midair. they'd been hung since the beginning of your tour, but you'd only truly taken notice just now.

"who took these? they're beautiful."

"i did."

'of course, you did' you thought. he seemed to be good at everything.

"can i have a copy of this one?" you pointed toward a photo to your left; it was of a couple dancing together in the rain, in front of the eiffel tower.

"why?"

"i'd always wanted to see the eiffel tower. plus, i just really like it." it was true. the photo was captured exquisitely, and going to paris had always been a goal of yours, along with traveling to different places in the world.

he didn't respond. grayson went up to the photograph and carefully unlatched it. he then turned to you and gestured for you to take it, "here, you can have it."

you were a little shocked he just gave it to you, but hundreds of photos were decorated throughout the building, so it probably didn't mean much just giving you one.

you took it in your hands gently and thanked him. you both then continued your tour into the conference room to discuss further management of the hawthorne foundation.

but unbeknownst to you, the photo you now owned was one of his favorites.

it became easier to get to know and warm up to grayson the more you visited the foundation, which you did quite often because you now that you had (or will have) conservatorship to the foundation, you wanted to ensure you knew everything involving it to ensure you'd continue its success.

you could now say the two of you were somewhat friends, but there still seemed to be a wall - built by grayson, between the two of you. likely from the lack of trust he still has toward you.

at times he'd look at you as if you were the enemy, and other times he'd treat you courteously. his constant mood changes were driving you crazy.

you had been staying up later than usual since your stay at the manor began. it didn't help that there was possibly a secret passage in your room like avery's has.

but your leading cause of distress stemmed from the mystery of the whole will situation. you'd gotten a small letter like everyone else, but it failed to offer any closure.

in fact, all it said was, "good luck". you'd never had the urge to strangle a dead old man til now.

however, this night you decided to walk outside. you'd been hesitant to wander around the mansion, but then again, you technically half owned it now, and nobody could really stop you. so you decided to go to the pool area, carefully avoiding alerting your new bodyguard of your movement.

when you got there, it was empty as you had hoped. the pool was illuminated with the lights, the area surrounding it was dimly lit.

you settled for solely dipping your feet in the pool and gazing at the stars upon the sky.

half an hour in, you heard the faint sound of someone possibly approaching. you took it as a sign to get back to your room before oren noticed, if he hadn't already.

you got up a bit too quickly, causing an imbalance in your step - leading you to stumble backward into the pool.

most people would simply swim back up to the top and pull themselves out, but you couldn't do that for one big reason. you never learned to swim.

panic began to seep into you as you flailed your arms all over the place, attempting to float to the top, but it only made you sink further. it didn't help drowning was on the top of your list of 'ways i would hate to die'.

you were midway through choking on the water when someone jumped into the pool and carried you back onto the pavement.

after coughing the water out of your lungs, you looked at the face your your savior kneeled in front of your; low and below there was grayson hawthorne - wearing nothing but swim shorts.

the sight of him shirtless made it harder to steady your breathing.

"are you alright?" you nodded in confirmation.

"what were you thinking getting into the pool so carelessly?"

"well, i just to test out my new waterproof mascara." you said sarcastically. "obviously i didn't end up in the stupid pool purposely!"

he rolled his eyes. “god, were you born a horrendous swimmer or just taught by an imbecile.”

you stayed silent, looking away from him, not wanting to admit the embarrassing truth.

“do you…do you not know how to swim?”

"….. define knowing to swim.”

he gave you an incredulous look, “seriously? even most 5-year-olds know how to swim, better yet, they wouldn’t almost drown in the 7ft part of the pool.”

“okay i get it! it’s pathetic i don’t know the basics of swimming. you don't have to be an asshole about it.” you stood up angrily in your soggy clothes and attempted to walk away - but grayson grabbed your wrist.

“wait. alright, i apologize for being quick to judge. if you want..i’ll teach you to swim.”

you were taken aback by the gesture, not quite sure what to think. on the one hand, it could be a plan to embarrass you further, but on the other hand - you really didn’t want to live your life not being able to swim any longer.

“alright.”

the following night he made good of his word when you went out to meet him. (oren being aware this time, after he warned you he'd lock you in your room if you snuck out without him again.)

this time you had proper swim attire, a 2 piece bikini alissa had purchased for you, along with others.

grayson was already in the pool when you arrived, swimming laps. once he noticed your arrival, he stepped out of the pool. you would've thought it was a scene from a movie from how smoothly & dreamy he moved.

you averted your eyes before you stared at his form too long.

you weren't sure if it was your imagination or you saw grayson do a double-take when he saw you.

all his attractiveness was shortly forgotten when he went to his bag to retrieve something, then handed you some plastic. it took you a moment, but then it clocked - these you arm floaties.

"you're joking right?"

"hey, after that near-drowning experience, it's better to be safe than sorry."

"it's like you want to humiliate me."

"don't worry i chose the ones with the flowers to enhance your matureness." he fought back a smile with his words.

he got a nasty glare in response.

still, you knocked down your pride on putting on the floaties before you and grayson submerged into the pool.

then grayson began reciting exercises and movements for you to do. after floating around for a bit, he instructed you to remove the floaties. you were obviously hesitant, the floaties were keeping you from drowning, but grayson insisted that you trust him.

he grabbed your waist with both hands and got behind you; that was enough to quicken your pulse.

his hands held you steady as you attempted to stay afloat by moving your arms and legs. it would get harder to focus when his hands moved up and down your back.

"okay, i'm gonna let you go now."

"ok. wait what-"

you were abruptly cut off because grayson immediately removed his hands, leaving you on your own. being caught off guard, you began a repeat of the night before, but this time attempting to swim correctly. regardless, you were still beginning to choke on water and sink down.

grayson swam back to your aid in an instant, holding you up above the water by the waist.

"shit- i'm sorry. i assumed your instincts would kick in if you had less reaction time."

"oh, because it worked so well yesterday."

"right, perhaps i should've given it more careful thought." he moved a hand to the side of your face, "are you sure you're okay?"

you nodded, unable to verbally respond. the tension in the air thickened as the two of you continued to stare to one another. for a brief moment, his gaze wandered to your lips, and you stopped breathing.

his face slowly leaned into yours. you didn't know what you'd do if he was going to kiss you - a big part of you was ready to kiss back and the other part told you i'd be a mistake if you did.

but the moment was interrupted by alissa, who was calling your name because she wanted to ho over tomorrow’s events with you.

you also knew, based on alissa's critical gaze, she'd seen what was about to possibly happen. she has already given you a fair amount of warning about getting involved with hawthornes.

grayson then pulled away, awkwardly bidding you farewell, saying he'd see you later before he made his way out of the pool.

since then, the brewing tension between the two of you grew. it didn't help you already see him quite a bit during the day, then alone at night. apparently, it was evident to everyone there was something happening because thea calligaris cornered you.

"the last girl who was with grayson ended up dead."

you were unsure what to believe after that, you really didn't trust thea, but didn't mean it couldn't be true. 'don't rich people always have some murderous secret?'

you couldn't help it, and brought up the topic to grayson, who went very still at the mention. he lashed out at you before walking away. you suppose that confirmed it.

he avoided you for a few days, even skipped out on swimming lessons, so you kept yourself busy with school and hanging with avery and xander; solving the still ongoing mystery of the will. which you'd lowkey given up on because riddles were not your forte.

you felt bad your question, but he didn’t need to act so harshly toward you. so, you weren’t going to talk to him until he approached you first.

a knock sounded in your room when you were getting ready for bed. however, it didn't come from the door but from behind a large painting.

'i swear if this house is haunted, i'm running back home'

you tried to remove the painting, but it was stuck to the wall. then you discover a small button hidden on its frame. against better judgment, you press it, making the painting and the wall behind it move forward and slide to the left.

you knew there were various passages, but having one in your own room kind of freaked you out.

behind the moving wall stood grayson. you screamed at first, only seeing a figure in the dark. but then grayson quickly stepped into the light and closer to you to put a hand over your mouth. you were relieved to see him and not someone who would possibly murder you.

he didn’t remove his hand, you gave him an expectant look.

“just hear me out, before you demand i leave. i came to apologize.”

you nodded, allowing him to continue. he sighed and pulled his hand away. then he opened up to you for the first time, telling you about a girl name emily laughlin.

he explained her condition, how both hom and jameson were involved with her, and how she died.

the more the story went on the more you felt bad for both brothers, especially grayson since it seemed it was still affecting him. you even felt for emily, obviously, she lacked something in her life to play 2 brothers.

“i'm not complaining, but why did you decide to tell me all this” the two of you at some point made your way onto your bed, sitting side by side each other

he humorlessly laughs, and looks directly at you. “to be honest, i’m not even sure. all i know is when i look into your eyes, i have this urge to tell bare my soul to you.”

deja vu to the pool incident, you both didn’t say anything, just looked at each other, slowly leaning your face closer.

you were ready to be interrupted again, stopping the act before it can happen. but there was none, and your lips were now an inch apart, and your heart was beating like you just ran a marathon.

“tell me to stop right now, or i’m afraid i won’t be able to hold myself back.”

you said nothing.

wasn't like he gave you much reaction time anyway because he kissed you a second later - like you were the last person he was ever going to kiss.

and oh boy, was it a good kiss.

even when he left your room later that night, after much kissing you were still reeling from the shock of it all.

you didn't know what it meant for the two of you - did he like you?, was it a one-time thing?, or did he kiss you as a way to forget emily?

you were only sure of one thing right now - you felt something toward grayson that crossed the friend zone.

the kiss was never brought up over the days; grayson and you continued to work together and swim at night together almost every other day. you weren't sure if you were relieved or offended he never mentioned it.

you swore he got flirter since the kiss - his hand brushing against yours, standing very close behind you when reviewing something for the foundation, hands wandering when helping you swim, even a subtle flirty remark here and there.

you confided in avery about the events. she was insistent on the fact grayson liked you, and that he didn't seem like the type of have a fling nor rebound.

you wanted to believe he liked you, but then you would hear thea's voice in your head, reminding you of emily, and how he isn't over her.

it was driving you mad, so you convinced yourself you were simply reading into things. you weren't.

it all came to a head at a charity event the both of you helped plan for the foundation. you'd wore a beautiful namebrand designer custom-made gown, the fanciest dress you ever adorned.

however, the whole night grayson ignored you and made it clear he was avoiding you. anytime you approached him he gave an excuse to the person he was talking to that he had to go somewhere. or if you tried making eye contact, he was quick to turn his head the other direction. you didn't know what his deal was.

when you took to the outside for a breather, you sensed the arrival of his presence.

you scoff, "so now you wanna talk to me or what?"

he didn't respond, which upset you more. so you opted to walk back into the ballroom, but grayson stopped you.

"anytime i look at you too long, i think of our kiss that night. then i have to hold myself back from doing it another time. and if i kiss you, i thin- no. i know i won't be able to help but fall for you."

you were again dumbfounded by such confession. a habit that seemed to always happen in the presence of grayson hawthrone.

"i don't mind."

"neither do i."

he crashed your lips together with his in a flash.

unlike the first one, the kiss was messy, and messy was never a way you thought you'd describe the pristine grayson hawthorne.

his hands made their way to your face keeping you close while his mouth was almost devouring your lips. you steadied yourself by holding onto his shoulders because you did not trust your wobbly knees to stand on their own.

you pulled away first, heavily breathing like the night you almost drowned. your mind was still hazy, unable to properly form a sentence to speak.

grayson hands stayed, caressing your face gently,

"you can have my entire being if it means i get to kiss you like that whenever."

you both didn't end up returning to the charity that night. not while your makeup was smudged and all your lipstick was transferred on grayson's face.

though it was never verbally official, the two of you were evidently more than friends at that point.

you didn't even need to tell anyone of your newfound relationship because you'd come to find out jameson had seen the two of you that night, and he would could never resist a gossip about grayson. so the information easily made its way throughout the entire hawthorne manor.

in relation, grayson fought jameson. unfortunately, you weren't allowed to watch the fight because grayson didn't want you to witness any violence. you were lowkey disappointed because you and avery were ready to place bets.

alissa also made sure to have a talk with you both regarding public appearances. she advised it was better to keep it private because everyone was still reeling from yours and avery's newfound inheritance, and this news could possibly do damage to your media reputation. plus, it was better if grayson was advertised as single.

you personally didn't mind, you weren't the biggest fan of pda when you had a thousand new eyes on you. and alissa's advice was wise since you were new to the whole being a public figure thing. and well, you both lived together anyway.

grayson was more hesitant to agree, but mostly for your benefit he listened to alissa.

it was fun in a way, acting platonic in public then kissing when you got to the mansion or even the limousine. it was like having a secret relationship.

whenever interviews tried to insinuate something, you learned how to shut it down after much lessons on pr. but grayson liked to leave sly comments; only the two of you could understand.

"yeah, y/n's quite well at exploring the mouth of new things."

"y/n and i have become very acquainted with each other."

"you could say i'm into women who sink instead of swim."

it made you wanna laugh and playfully hit him all the same.

what really made your relationship step into public light was when rumors about you and jameson dating started circling around.

a photo of the two of you had been taken getting out of a limo together then entering a building, where people rumored you had a 'date'. in reality, both of you were there to talk to skye hawthorne after she was removed from the hawthorne mansion.

grayson was less than happy about these rumors, and jameson not denying anything to the press to get a rise out of grayson, was making things worse.

so, in a grayson hawthorne manner - he took care of things himself. he bought out all of the press and made them debunk the stories.

then to be even more dramatic, the next time the two of you were out together, he made a whole show of kissing you. even going as far as dipping you down in his arms before the kiss - felt straight out of a cheesy romcom. you couldn't say you didn't enjoy it, though.

the paparazzi had a field day with those photos & the two of your the front page of gossip magazines for weeks. alissa was ready to explode after only finding out the two of you went public from the media.

being in a public relationship was harder than being in a secret one. there were somehow even more eyes on you, picking your relationship apart. they mostly targeted your flaws and even took digs at your old diner job. even a surge of online hate came at your direction.

even grayson couldn't buyout every magazine or person who had a negative thing to say about you, and trust that he very much tried to.

but being official in public also had great pros. now, grayson and you could go out on dates wherever without worrying about hiding and disguises.

you couldn't stay anywhere too far at first because of the 'stay in the house for a year' rule, but you had dates at all sorts of fancy places. even though you were technically a net-worth nigher than him,now, he always insisted on paying the bill. ever the gentleman.

grayson knew how to plan one himself. a personal favorite of yours had to be the picnic in a hot air balloon.

but once the year was up, the first place gray took you was to paris, which he knew was always your dream. paris now seemed like a mundane dream compared to all of the past year's events.

still, paris was absolutely incredible, and being there with your boyfriend made it better - and helpful because he was fluent in french while you barely passed the high school class with a B.

seeing the eiffel tower was the best part, it was even more amazing up close. standing there with grayson, the grays started to cloud, and small drizzles of water came down.

your bodyguard (one oren forcefully implanted) had advised you both to head to the car before it started pouring. you were ready to follow along, but gray tugged your sleeve, stopping your movement.

you gave him a questioning gaze, so he held out his hand, asking you to dance.

you laughed and accepted nonetheless, even when the rain started to pour in more. the two of you began a clumsy (on your part) waltz across the pavement. both of your faces filled with blissful smiles. to this day, it is a favorite memory of yours.

it was even better when grayson gifted you a photo of you two that day, one he asked the bodyguard to take. now, the picture was framed next to the one grayson had taken & grayson hung a copy of it at the hawthorne foundation.

since dating, grayson's insomnia has improved immensely. it mainly had to do with the fact you two frequently sleep in his bed together. he jokes your his personal nyquil.

it's true when they say he sleeps like a deadman, even has a tiny snore - though he keep denying it. but he has some sort of sixth sense that enables him to know when you leave the bed.

like for instance, you needed to use the bathroom one night, and the moment you got up from the bed - grayson is up and asking where you were going.

the swimming lessons were not forgotten - you two still had that nightly routine. but you weren't becoming a michael phelps anytime soon. not when most of your lessons involved more kissing than swimming.

but hey, at least you've moved past the need for floaties. because grayson just carries you himself if it's too deep for you to swim.

he loves to buy anything that reminds him of you. a jewelry piece that matches your eyes, a dress he thinks would look pretty on you, a shift from your favorite film/show/artist, or even an item you offhandedly mentioned you wanted. he'd have them wrapped and ready to give to you the next moment he saw you.

much to our surprise, grayson was also the clingy type. his love language was more gift-giving but doesn't mean he wasn't a bit touch-starved.

he revels in hugs, kisses, and intimate moments. he always wants to hold hands when you both are walking together. jameson and nash love to tease him on it.

he has as a domestic side to him. he helps you put on your coat or even sometimes makes you wear it, keeps you on the side of the sidewalk not near the street, carries your purse or shopping bags, and helping you slip on your heels and shoes.

overall, grayson hawthorne was nothing less of an amazing boyfriend. except when he sees eve for the first time.

you were in the office of the foundation looking over a few files when you saw tobias' name mentioned then initials at the bottom. 'T.T.H.'

"huh, i thought your grandfather didn't have middle name."

grayson looked over your shoulder, "oh, he didn't. at least not until had changed his legal name less than a year before his passing."

"what is it?"

"tatersall. quite peculiar right?"

you laughed to yourself. perhaps he was trying to set you up with her grandson after all.

@itzchanelx @marigold-morelli

#grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne fic #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne x female reader #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #x reader #reader imagine #reader insert #x female reader

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unofficially-ace · 2 months ago

Text

Star thoughts/liveblog (spoilers ahead ofc)

- If Splashtail is holding kittens hostage have you guys tried….driving him out? It’s literally one guy against the whole of Riverclan, just keep him away from the kits and there won’t be an issue???

- The conflict is kinda stupid I can’t lie, this could be solved if everyone in Riverclan wasn’t such a dumbass

- Cloverfoot is going to die in this battle I can smell it

- I can’t believe we’re getting fascism explained to us through warrior cats

- Berryheart fell down the crunchy mom -> alt right pipeline real

- This book is making me like Tigerheartstar wtf

- Frostpaw I would die for you

- Harestar you’re the most annoying mf ever please die

- What is it with Riverclan and their camp being turned into a prison every other series

- Graysludge and Mistslime are objectively hilarious names

- What happened to Splashtail being compelling why is he just cartoonishly evil and insane now

- There are not enough supporters of Splashtail to make give this any stakes come onnnn, he has like 5 people actually on his side

- I love Berryheart she’s so fucked up

- Wtf is Owlnose doing, why is he siding with Splashtail for no reason??

- Sunbeam you are so stupid my god

- ‘She didn’t realise what she was doing’ yes she did lmao

- RIP Berryheart you were the most compelling villain of the series

- That makes 2 dead female villains and we’re stuck with the boring male one….

- Owlnose you just killed someone don’t try and make me feel bad for you

- ‘The last thing she ever did was save you’ just like Curlfeather….the parallels…

- This feels like setup for Froststar ngl

- I can’t believe Nightheart is the only guy with a braincell here

- Is fogstar going to be a thing??? She hasn’t even been mentioned once before this book

- Riverclan is so stupid it actually pains me

- Why are we still calling them Greysludge and Mistslime that’s literally so mean lol, just call them by their apprentice names

- The tension is actually really good

- Not exactly liking how Splashtail seems to be genuinely mentally I’ll and that’s why he’s evil…

- He’s fuckin dead and we’re only halfway through?? Now what?

- So glad Frostpaw got to be the one to kill him though, that was so satisfying

- Riverclan you can justify all you want but at the end of the day you’re fuckin stupid

- The second he started doing murders y’all should’ve turned on him and it would all be fine

- Hi Mothwing when did you get here

- Lol fuck those guys (fognose and breezeheart)

- Goddamn Berryheart’s funeral scene is some of the best writing I’ve seen in a warriors book for a while, these are genuinely interesting emotions to explore

- Ewww I don’t wanna think about frost having a crush on splash stop bringing this up my god

- Oh fuck yes Frostpaw and Curlfeather angst

- If the rest of this book is just emotional conflict I will be more than happy with it

- Don’t kill off Frostpaw I swear to god

- Kate Cary I’m putting my trust in you

- This scene would make an incredible animation

- Might be my new favourite chapter of warrior cats ever holy shit that SLAPPED

- Fuck off Nightheart I need more Frostpaw

- Having Nightsky and Nightheart is so confusing

- Thunderclan can’t go two seconds without an argument (usually started by Lionblaze)

- I kinda love this type of conflict, it’s much more interesting than Splashtail being crazy

- Podlight is still here???

- Tree does something as a mediator for the first time ever

- Who tf is emberstar (if they’re relevant in Riverstar’s SE then I haven’t read it lol)

- The fact that I genuinely can’t tell if Frostpaw will survive is so good

- Please let the rest of the chapters be Frostpaw I don’t gaf about the others right now

- Whistlebreeze is the cutest name

- Frostdawn!!!! Also cute as fuck

- ICESTAR REALLLLL LETS GO

- Oh my god this chapter is gonna make me cry

- Sunbeam is pregnant and I want to explode

- And that’s a wrap on ASC , genuinely actually enjoyed this book, especially the second half. The emotional conflict was really interesting I gotta be honest, Frostdawn’s almost-dead scenes were so fun and had really good tension. The conflict with Splashtail ended up getting really stale, I’m glad he was killed halfway through because I couldn’t have dealt with that being dragged out for a whole book

#warrior cats #asc spoilers #asc star #star spoilers

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rokurookajima · 1 month ago

Note

help i need to know why you hate season 3 of mtl. it’s my personal fave however i know it’s very divisive amongst fans (s2 is literally perfect though agreed on that)

SEASON 2 IS PERFECT NO ONE CAN DENY THAT

ok so many issues..and i’ll say i’m not counting the first episode or obviously doublebookedklok bc those two are SO good, match the normal tone, AND are so important to the plot.. they are fully excempt from my critique

but some of the biggest issues i take:

there is a very weird vibe shift in season 3 to me, it feels overall so much mean spirited? idk there is a feeling of so much love and care in the first two seasons—in the writing from the creators and within the band themselves (in their very stupid Them way ofc). season 3 just. doesn’t feel that way? i wonder if the team was going through shit with adult swim at the time that manifested in a more spiteful tone overall? idk the band just doesn’t feel like the dysfunctional family they usually are in a lot of the episodes in season 3 and personally… it just feels like a loss. murderface is treated so much stupider than before to where it genuinely feels like they all dislike him, skwisgaar is lowkey forgotten as a character other than Guy Who Fucks (except ofc fatherklok which i also enjoy). rehabklok is undeniably also very good bc the music SLAPS and it’s fun to see brendon go full on theater kid with it, but even still — the band’s treatment of pickles is SO out of character too?? in season one they all lost their minds at the thought of losing pickles even temporarily to snakes n barrels, had to get wasted to watch him perform with them? but now he’s in rehab and they don’t give a fuck and replace him with a robot? HELLO??? i choose to interpret that episode as actually just a manifestation of pickles’ personal worst nightmare

THE PLOT.. WHERE DID THE PLOT GO? obv it’s a show where the overarching storyline is always the backbone and not the fronting part of the story line, but we had episodes twice as long as usual, and there’s barely any tribunal? we could’ve done soooo much more with that time was salacia just on vacation? in the same vein, i feel like the pacing within episodes is.. off?? the writers are SO good at fitting soooo much into 10 minutes, it almost felt like they didn’t know how to fill time, and scenes linger longer than they should, the comedic timing is not quite right, it’s just OFF

the two episodes i reeeeally hate are fertilityklok and dethsiduals…. they both just like epitomize the tone shift that doesn’t work for me. there’s something profoundly uncomfortable about fertilityklok to me that i can’t place, it’s just so unpleasant imo like everything about it lmaoo. i also .. don’t like that being back to back with fatherklok for skwisgaar it just feels like we got really good character insight and growth for him, and then.. COMPLETE shutdown. guy who fucks, that’s all (i’m also obv very very partial to skwis so biased haha). dethsiduals feels like THE most hateful toned?? i don’t like how anyone behaves in that episode lmaooo it’s just so OFF, all i can say can be summarized in vibes are OFF

i also do actually like the rockzo episode as well tho uh… y’know some things could be different (14???? come on man) but i actually enjoy all the rockzo episodes bc they always bring out interesting parts of toki. i love that we got more childhood toki insight!! a highlight for sure. and then uhhh dethhealth is one of the better ones as well - i think it suffers from the off pacing, but it still feels more like the past seasons AND toki’s cat song is a certified banger that gets stuck in my head all the time STILL

ok that was fr so many words that didn’t necessarily need to go this long BUT obv i have been needing to talk about this for years lmaooo tldr i wish they’d stayed truer to the tone and characterization set in the first two seasons, and REALLY wish they’d utilized the time better for the actual plot

#also think abigail should’ve been introduced in season 3 BUT that’s a whole nother thing #thank you for asking :’)#dat ask #metalocalypse

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footprintsinthesxnd · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 13: Forgive Me

Gale Cleven × Hope Armstrong (ofc)

Series Masterlist

This story is based on on the fictional portrayal of these men from the MOTA to series.

Summary: With a new arrival at the camp Hope finds herself falling further into the darkness of her mind and the only person who can help pull her out of it has the man she loves to occupy her time.

Collab: A Pair of Silver Wings by @major-mads

Wednesday, October 27, 1943: Stalag Luft III: Sagan, Germany: 18:00

Hope found a sigh of relief escaping from her lips as the sight of their hut came into view. Frank had arrived to collect her from the infirmary and walk her back to their hut. He’d become even more protective since Gale had arrived a few days ago and she enjoyed his company, even if he was a little overbearing.

She felt bad that he’d been hovering outside for the best part of an hour but he didn’t seem to mind. She couldn’t bring herself to head back to the hut too earlier, hating the concerned eyes that seemed to watch her every movement. There was only so many times she could force a smile and repeat, “I’m fine,” until she too didn’t believe it.

She hopped up the steps, pushing open the large wooden door and following the short corridor down to their room. Frank’s heavy footfalls followed her, announcing their prescenes before they’d even arrived.

Their small group of friends were huddled around in the corner, a familiar dark-haired figure had his back to them and although he wasn’t sporting his normal sheepskin jacket, Hope recognised in an instant. John Egan.

Their presence must have been noticed because the group's hushed voices suddenly stopped and a few chairs scraped back, as they turned to see who had entered.

Ruth’s wide smile and shining eyes met her and she hated the way her heart clenched painfully at her friend's happiness. John, on the other hand, although looking worse for wear with his face littered in cuts and bruises, grinned widely at the pair.

“Hope! Frank! You’re back. Ruth’s been telling me all about you both since the crash.” John cracked a wide smile and his eyes seemed to soften as they met Hope’s. She couldn’t think of anything to say. What could you say to a man that had come back from the dead?

Frank, noticing Hope’s apparent discomfort, stepping forward, his hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you, Major, sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

John shrugged, his arm coming back around to rest on Ruth’s shoulders, “We’re at war Captain, worse things could have happened. To think that of all the camps I could have gone to I ended up back with my girl. It could have been worse, I could have been stuck in a different camp like Gale and…”

The room fell silent, all eyes falling onto Hope. She bit her lip nervously, eyes falling to the floor.

“Hope, I didn’t mean…”John began, his face etched with concern as he realised the weight of his words.

“It’s fine, John, really, it’s good to have you back. It’s nice to see Ruth so happy again.” She sent her friend a sincere smile and the blonde returned it, her shoulders relaxing a little. She hadn’t realised how on edge Ruth must have been about the situation. Everyone treated Hope with kit gloves, like she was an unexplored bomb that needed to be handled with such delicacy that she might go off at any moment.

Hope sat herself down on her bunk, pulling up the sleeves of her coveralls. She missed her old flight suit, but the Herringbone Twill men’s coveralls that Edmund had found her severed their purpose, even if they were a little large on her. She straightened the silver wings pinned to her chest. Despite everything she still wore her flight nurse wings proudly, it was one of the few things she could cling to in these trying times.

She watched as Frank joined in with the group’s conversation, enjoying the jovial atmosphere that filled the room. It was nice to know that despite everything some of them could still smile.

She was pleased that John was here, really, for Ruth’s sake most of all. To see her friend so happy, wrapped up in the arms of the man she loved and had longed for. Ruth deserved to be happy, after everything.

Hope didn’t noticed Ruth approaching her until the bed dipped beside her and she glanced sideways at her best friend. Ruth bit her lip anxiously, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear.

“How are you doing?” Ruth asked, slipping her hand into Hope’s and squeezing it gently. “You’ve been really quiet since Gale arrived, I’m worried about you.”

Hope hated that Ruth had noticed. She knew that Ruth would have been worrying herself sick about it all.

“I’m fine, Rue, really. Works just been busy and I’ve not been sleeping well, but I promise I’m fine,” she forced a smile that stretched across her pale cheeks. The dark, purple skin that encircled her eyes only made her skin look paler. The flesh felt tight, gaunt across her cheek bones. She hadn’t noticed how much weight she’d lost since the crash but her clothes hung loosely on her tired frame.

Ruth didn’t look convinced, her once bright eyes looked tiredly at Hope breaking her heart even more. What had become of them?

————————————————————————

Wednesday, October 28, 1943: Stalag Luft III: Sagan, Germany: 12:00

Hope rubbed her eyes wearily, eyelids heavy and drooping due to the early hour. She’d barely slept a wink before the dreams began again. Every time she closed her eyes Gale’s distraught face haunted her, his voice shaking as he called out to her.

She sighed, stretching out on her small cramped cot and burying her cold feet beneath the thin, rough blanket. She sniffed, wiping away the stray tear that slipped down her cold cheek.

Hope’s eyes glanced across the room at Ruth’s peaceful form. She slept soundly, a faint smile on her lips. Hope couldn’t help resenting her a little, although she was pleased for her despite everything. At least she had John now, he wouldn’t disappoint her like she had.

A small whimper alerted her to the movement above Ruth’s bed and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she saw John’s stiff figure climbing swiftly down from his bunk. He held his ribs during his descent and Hope wondered how badly he’d been treated in Dulag Luft.

John must have sensed her gaze on him because he turned, dark eyes wide when he caught sight of her. She knew that look, the wide-eyed, frightened gaze that haunted her far too often.

She watched as he slipped down onto the floor beside Ruth’s cot, visibly relaxing as he watched the rise and fall of her chest. He reached out hesitantly and lightly brushed a strand of hair from her face. His touch was so tender and gentle that Hope finally saw a truly different side to Bucky. He wasn’t a troublesome womaniser anymore. He was a man in love, besotted with his girl.

Hope smiled a little, ignoring the growing pain that filled her chest like a knife in her heart. Her eyes found their way to the window once more, staring into the brightly lit compound. How many more hours would pass until sleep finally took hold? She did not know.

————————————————————————

October 29th 1943, Stalag Luft III Sagan, Germany: 04:00

The cold wind bit at Hope’s cheeks, raising the raw, pink flesh as she hurried across the camp to the infirmary.

It was early in the morning, maybe 04:00 or 05:00, Hope wasn’t sure. Her watch had been damaged in the crash and now it was stuck with the hour hand on the 3 and the minutes on exactly 26. Frank always joked that it was right twice a day, but since then she’d been relying on others for the time, not that it really mattered the guards dictated their routines.

Throwing open the door she shuffled inside, kicking the snow off of her brown, leather field boots in the doorway. To her surprise, Edmund was already there packing up supplies of dressings into crates.

He glanced up as Hope strolled in.

“Good morning, Hope. You’re here early.” It sounded more like a question than a statement, but Hope just smiled.

“You know me, I can’t sleep so I might as well make myself useful.” She picked up her own crate and started to unpack some of the supplies into the cupboards. “More to the point, why are you here so early?”

Edmund shrugged, “There’s supposed to be some prisoners being moved around today, some are coming to our camp. I thought it would be better if I got ahead of schedule.”

Hope froze. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t have heard him right. “Did you say prisoners from other parts of the camp will be moved here?”

“Yes,” Edmund replied nonchalantly before he realised what he’d said, “I mean, yes. I’ve heard that there will be men brought in from other sections of the camp but I don’t know if they are transferring anyone from Gale’s camp I’m afraid.”

Hope nodded slowly, she didn’t want to get her hopes up, not when she’d come so far. It had been a week since Gale had arrived and she’d desperately fought against the memory of him being dragged away. She had been glad of Frank’s support, he’d barley left her side since that day, Ruth too, although she’d begun to keep Ruth at arms length since John arrived a few days ago. She couldn’t help the jealousy that ate away at her when she discovered he’d been placed in their camp. Why did Ruth get her man while hers was still so far away from her? Why didn’t she deserve to be happy? She hated herself for being jealous of her friend, Ruth deserved to be happy more than anyone but the growing feeling that Hope didn’t deserve happiness haunted her.

Edmund seemed to sense her apprehension and placed a hand on her shoulder, “If I hear anything else you’ll be the first to know.”

Hope trusted Edmund, he was a good man and an even better friend. He’d helped her more than he’d ever realised and it all began because of his ability to travel to other parts of the camp. There was a shortage of doctors in the camp and Edmund had to split his time between several compounds, including Gale’s.

He’d mentioned it while helping Hope place a cast on a pilot's leg, it had been a fleeting comment but one that Hope hadn’t missed.

“You mean you get to go into the other camps?”

“Yes, just to give medical assistance. I come back to my own camp each night,” he’d replied, wrapping the bandage quickly before it began to set. “Why are you so interested in it?”

Hope wasn’t sure what she had intended but the thought came to her and she knew she had to try. “Would you be able to take a letter with you?”

Edmund thought for a moment before nodding, “I can’t see why not, they don’t check my bag of medical supplies so I could just slip it in there. Why? Who’s it for?”

“It’s for my fiance.” That was the first time she had discussed Gale with anyone other than Ruth and Frank. It felt strange to tell a complete stranger all about him but Edmund listened happily.

“Of course, Hope. You write that letter and I’ll take it over for you the next time I go.” True to his promise he did.

Hope found herself struggling to write. For night after night she poured over a crumpled piece of paper, writing and scribbling out sentences. She’d never struggled to write to Gale before, but now it felt like she was back in Nursing School writing essays on patient care. She had debated asking Ruth to help her, she was a teacher after all, but something between the girls had changed. Hope felt it once they had been reunited after Dulag Luft. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment but she’d withdrawn from her friend, pulling from Ruth’s familiar comfort. She didn’t desire her friendship, she was a burden on them all and they would be better off without her. The more she told herself that, the more she believed it. Something had changed for her in Dulag Luft. Haussmann had taken something from her somehow, her fighting spirit maybe? She wasn’t really sure, but she had driven everyone away because of it.

Hope decided she couldn’t ask Ruth to help her and instead continued to try and write the letter herself, but how could a simple letter convey everything she had ever wanted to tell Gale? Would she ever see him again? He was so close but so far, and knowing the Germans they could move either one of the to another camp at a moment's notice.

On the night she finished the letter, she found herself unable to sleep once more so she walked over to the infirmary. She’d told Edmund she would leave the letter in his medical bag to take to Gale’s compound on his next visit. She wanted the letter out of her hands before she could change it again.

She walked carefully over the uneven floorboards, trying to avoid the ones that creaked. She’d spent so many nights away that she knew exactly how to sneak out without the others knowing, even with the new arrivals who seemed to sleep less deeply than Frank and Ruth.

Stepping out of the hut, the early morning air whipped against her skin, wracking its icy fingers across the exposed flesh of her cheeks. She huffed, pulling her jacket up around her neck, burying her nose into her scarf. She walked quickly, darting between the huts. She knew that if the guards spotted her she’d be in trouble, but as a nurse she may get away with being permitted to check on patients and as she was heading towards the infirmary she stood a good chance of getting away with it.

Her legs carried her swiftly and she was at the infirmary door in record time. She slipped inside, trying to avoid disturbing the sleeping men recuperating inside. She moved silently towards Edmund’s bag, slipping the letter inside before…

“Well aren’t you a pretty little thing.”

Hope spun around, the heels of her boots squeaking against the wooden floor. She met eyes with the speaker, staring into the dark abyss where the man’s eyes seemed to have disappeared into his gaunt face. His teeth lay crooked in his mouth and formed a menacing smile that made Hope’s flesh crawl. She gulped, eyes wide as she watched the man take a step forward.

“Don’t be scared, Pretty. You’re a lovely little thing aren’t you.”

“What do you want?” Hope snapped, she recognised the man now. He’d arrived at the infirmary the night before, unconscious and unlikely to recover. He’d taken a blow to the head from one of the guards and the doctors had decided he was as good as dead. The bandage hung loosely around his skull now and dried blood was evident around his hairline.

“Sir, I think you should take a seat, you suffered from a traumatic injury to the head, I don’t think you should be trying to move around too much.”

The man scoffed, “You can tell me to do whatever you want to, Pretty Lady, so long as you give me something in return.” He lurched forward, grasping Hope’s wrist tightly. She let out a yelp, jumping backwards and trying desperately to remove his grip from her wrist.

“Get off me!” She cried, slamming her attacker into the side of the examination table with little success. He continued his advances, pinning her against the wall, his stale breath causing Hope’s stomach to churn.

He ran a single finger down her cheek before his pressed his chapped lips to hers in a sloppy kiss. Hope did the only thing she knew how, bringing his knee up and wracking the man firmly in the crotch. He cried out, falling to the ground with a shout where she kicked him once more, drawing her boot back and kicking him another three times. She’d never felt such anger within herself, never felt such a drive to hurt another human being. Why would she, she was a nurse after all?

The man crawled his way towards the door and she let him go, she’d have rather him be out of her sight than hanging around, rolling around the floor like a child. As the door slammed shut behind him, she released a breath she didn’t realise she been holding. It was only now that she noticed how sore her neck felt and she raised a shaking hand to feel where his fingers must have dug into her throat. Her cheek stung and she suddenly realised that he’d hit her, several times. In her struggle to hurt him she hasn’t realised he’d tried to fit back.

A soft whimper fell from her lips and she slipped to the floor, a strangled sob soon following as she lay against the rough wooden slats. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have let this happen. Her mind raced with the same dark thoughts that had followed her around like a rain cloud for weeks. You deserved it. It’s your fault this happened. What would Ruth think of you now? Frank too, the would be ashamed of you. As she lay sobbing herself to exhaustion on the floor, Hope found a small glimmer of hope finding her from within Edmund’s bag, her letter. The sooner her letter was delivered the sooner she would have a reply from her beloved Gale. She didn’t dare think of anything else as she rocked herself back and forth. It would be okay, she had Gale, everything would be okay.

By the time she arrived back at the hut, Hope just slipped back into her cot when the loud thump of the Luftwaffe guard knocking on the door rallied them.

Bang. Bang.

“Aufstehen! Get up!”

Hope pushed herself off the cot, throwing off the rough sacking and pushing her hair away from her eyes.

She pulled her olive-drab scarf tightly around her neck, hoping to hide the evident bruises around her neck, the last thing she needed was people asking questions.

Room 4 began to slowly come to life, shuffling around the block as they began funneling out the door, pulling on coats and boots as they went. She tried to ignore John greeting Ruth with a sweet kiss.

She rubbed her eyes, hoping they didn’t look too red from crying. She pulled on her A2 jacket, pulling the zip tightly up to her neck before marching out the door. Keeping her head down was the best way to get through it.

Frank sent her a soft smile, placing a hand on her lower back as he guided her out of the hut after Ruth. Ever since he’d carried her back to the hut the day Gale arrived he’d been more attentive, placing an arm around her shoulder, and soft kisses to her forehead. The closeness reminded her of Hugh’s comforting embraces but she tried to push it from her mind. It was better to know he was safe in England rather than stuck in a camp. Hope wondered if Hugh was planning his trip back to the States, Münster was his 25th mission after all. She liked the thought that he was safely back on home turf.

Hope fell into the line beside Crank who sent her a soft smile. She returned the gesture before forcing herself to look forward, eyes trained on the muddy floor. It was almost always the same every morning and afternoon. The goons went down the line checking everyone was accounted for until they were satisfied. On special occasions when they felt extra cruel, the kreigies were forced to stand in their lines for hours. Luckily, that had only happened once since the girls arrived. As the chilly air turned colder with the passing days, Ruth wondered how long anyone would be able to stand exposed to the elements. It would snow soon, no doubt.

After the morning roll call, the others headed to the mess hall for breakfast. Hope found herself hanging back, standing in the courtyard as she stared at the floor in front of her.

She ignored the way John threw his arm around Ruth’s shoulder, tucking her closely to his side as he spoke.

Hope felt cold, her lips stiff and her neck ached. It was as though her body had finally caught up with what had happened to her that morning, it was as though the shock and realisation of what could have happened to her set in.

“Hope?” Her eyes snapped up and she saw through watery eyes her friend looking back at her. Ruth’s forehead creased with concern, her bright eyes watching her sympathetically. Hope felt her cheeks burned as she realised the small group of friends that surrounded her. She could see John’s dark eyes watching her from behind Frank, who was reaching out to her.

“You okay, Hope?” Frank asked, brushing his hand against hers but she withdrew her hand, avoiding the other's watchful eyes.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I’m just tired, lots of patients to see today so I’ll head over to the infirmary.” She pushed past Ruth, moving through the group and towards the infirmary. She hated the way they looked at her, with such sympathy that Hope felt like she was something broken and unwanted.

“Hope! Hope, wait!” Ruth called after her, clutching onto her friend's arm as she reached her. “Hope, you have to talk to me. Please don’t shut me out.” Ruth’s bright eyes started pleasingly at her, begging for her to just reach out.

“I’m not shutting you out, Rue. I’m busy, alright? I have things I need to do.”

Ruth’s grip remained firm on her arm and Hope pushed her arm away, the jealousy she had suppressed bubbling up in her chest once more. “Just go back to John, why don’t you? He’s waiting for you so you should just go.”

Hope instantly regretted her harsh words, seeing the hurt appear in Ruth’s eyes but she just couldn’t bring herself to talk to her friend. She needed to keep busy and discussing her feelings wasn’t going to help her. She was a burden to her friends as it was without breaking down in front of them.

“Please Hope, please just talk to me,” Ruth bit her lip to keep it from wobbling as she spoke, her voice strained as the tears began to build in her eyes.

Hope cowered away, stepping further from her friend as she tried to suppress her grief. Why was she being so weak? She couldn’t look at Ruth, she couldn’t bare let me down. She was supposed to be the strong one and yet between the nightmares and Gale being just out of her reach, she couldn’t hold it together any longer.

“I can’t talk to you about it. You won’t understand,” she replied plainly, pushing her dark locks away from her eyes. Hope took a deep breath, ignoring the feeling of silent tears slipping down her cheeks. “I should check on the men in the infirmary.”

Hope hated the way Ruth’s eyes followed her as she followed the muddy path towards the infirmary block, keeping her eyes trained on her feet, stepping one in front. She knew they were only worried about her and yet that made her feel even more ashamed because she was letting them down, too. To think that the airmen that Gale had worked so closely with saw her as such a weak and feeble creature only caused her to hate herself even more.

She swung open the door to the infirmary, choking back a sob, she was glad the ward was empty, the only patient having been the man from that morning and thankfully he was long gone. Sliding down the wall beside the sink Hope bit her bottom lip, tasting the bitter, iron blood as her teeth sank deeper. The images of Ruth’s happy smile as she sat in John’s arms the night before flash in front of her eyes, seeing her smiling friends catching happily together in their hut, Gale being dragged away from her, the injured man pinning her against the wall, Haussmann. Everything was too much, it hurt too much. Hope’s eyes slid shut as she collapsed against the wooden floor and the darkness consumed her.

————————————————————————

October 29th 1943, Stalag Luft III Sagan, Germany: 17:30

Frank tried to ignore the way the rain trickled down the collar of his jacket and onto his skin, slipping down his spine and wetting the band of his trousers. This was when he missed flying most, when the foul weather would have had him grounded so he’d have stayed nestled in the dispersal hut beside the fire with a good book.

Sighing, his long legs carried him towards the infirmary. His mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of Hope’s tearful face as she’d disappeared that morning, skipping breakfast. The dry chunk of bread wrapped in a handkerchief in his pocket wasn’t much but it was better than nothing.

He wrapped his knuckles against the wooden door, waiting for the familiar call to ‘Enter’. When nothing came he pushed open the door slowly, slipping inside. The ward was unusually quiet but he was thankful that Hope was having a peaceful day.

The doctor suddenly appeared in the doorway, causing Frank to jump.

“Christ Doc, you scared me,” he chuckled, his smile falling at the serious look on Edmund’s face. “What’s wrong, Doc.”

Frank waited patiently as Edmund explained that he’d found Hope collapsed that morning, her small, cold form lay in one of the infirmary cots, wrapped beneath a mountain of blankets.

“I gave her something to help her sleep but there isn’t much else I can do. Clinically I can’t find anything wrong with her but I know she hasn’t been sleeping well, and since Gale’s arrival, we’ll…” Edmund trailed off as both men’s eyes fell upon Hope’s sleeping form. “I don’t know what happened to her but she had bruises around her neck, I fear they may have been inflicted by another prisoner but she won’t tell me what happened. She made me promise not to tell anyone what happened,” Edmund admitted, his grey eyes meeting Frank’s. “She made me swear not to tell Ruth.”

Frank’s heart broke. Why would she want to keep this from her friends, they could help her, support her? He’d never known Hope to become so closed off from her friends before. Who would want to hurt Hope like that?

“She just needs some rest and physically she should be fine in a few days,” Edmund paused, contemplating his words carefully. “But mentally, I fear she has a long road ahead of her.”

Frank watched the doctor go before he took a seat beside Hope’s bed. It wasn’t until now that he noticed how pale her skin was, how the dark rings beneath her eyes caused her face to look gaunt. How had he not realised quite how much she was suffering?

“Oh Hope,” he brushed his fingers gently across her forehead, pushing away her dark hair that fell loosely across the pillow. “I’m so sorry, Hope. I was meant to protect you and I failed.” Alone in the infirmary, Frank let his own tears fall. They had been through so much together and yet he felt as though she was slipping through his fingers every day. He vowed to himself that he would do better, for Hope, for Ruth, for all of them.

————————————————————————

November 1st 1943, Stalag Luft III Infirmary: 10:00

Sitting on the rickety, wooden chair by the bed, Frank chuckled, “Guess who got mail?”

Hope’s eyes lit up as she spied the crumbled piece of paper in the pilot's hand. She was feeling much better after a few days of decent sleep, and after a pep talk from Frank, she was beginning to see that maybe things weren’t as dark and lonely as she thought they were.

“Is it for me?” She asked with the childlike earnestness that reminded Frank that she was only a young woman of twenty four, or was it twenty five. It struck Frank that in all the chaos of the plane crash and finding themselves in a POW camp that they missed Hope’s birthday entirely. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, but made a mental note to try and do something nice for her to show they hadn’t entirely forgotten.

“It sure is,” Frank placed the letter into her hands, “And I think you know who it’s from.”

Hope nodded, a faint smile pulling at her lips as she ran her thumb over her name written on the front. “Could you read it to me?”

Frank nodded, if not a little surprised, and took the letter back from her, shoving his thumb under the envelope and whipping it open.

To my dearest Hope,

You have no idea how much your letter meant to me. I never truly realised how much I missed your sweet words until you were gone and I realised I took you for granted. I promise that for as long as I live I will never take you for granted, Hope. Each and every day with you I will treasure for the rest of my life.

I’m sure you can understand the pain more than anyone else that our separation causes, believe me I have never known suffering like it. Please do not worry about me, I am not alone over here. Benny Demarco is here with me.

Just know that seeing you when I arrived has given me the strength I need to keep going, too keep fighting until we can be reunited once more. You give me hope that we still have a future together. I know this is not how we planned the month after our wedding to go but just now that I would live through it all again if it meant I get to spend the rest of eternity by your side.

You're my everything, Hope. I’ll keep fighting for you and I’ll be back by your side as soon as I am able.

Your ever loving husband

Gale

Frank brushed a hand over his cheek, trying to hide the stray tears he’d shed while reading Gale's letter. His heart swelled to know that someone loved Hope as deeply as he loved his girl Grace. Love like that is rare and to find it in war is even rarer. He glanced up at Hope to see her dark eyes misty too as she shed her own tears but the faint smile remained on her lips.

“Thank you, Frank,” she choked, reaching out and taking the letter from her friend. She pressed the page against her lips, inhaling deeply for the faintest scent of Gale on it. Sadly, the paper just smelt like the damp, stale air of the huts they occupied. Smiling sadly, she pressed the letter to her chest. It may not have been much but it was enough for now to reassure her that her Gale was still here and he was alright. For now that was all she needed.

————————————————————————

November 4th 1943, Stalag Luft III Infirmary: 15:00

Hope was released from the infirmary a few days later with strict instructions not to over exert herself and to return if she felt faint again. Frank had been waiting for her at the infirmary door, a bright smile of his lips when he saw her.

“Now there’s the Hope I know,” he wrapped her in his large arms. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” she assured him, linking her arm through his as he led her back to their Nissen hut. She knew Frank meant well but she was looking forward to seeing some other people, he was very good at small talk.

She missed Ruth, despite telling Dr Edmund that she didn’t want Ruth to see her in such a state; it was more that she was ashamed of herself for being so weak. Not just now but how weak she’d been since the crash. She needed to apologise for everything.

Stopping suddenly, Frank turned his worried eyes finding hers.

“I need to go and see Ruth,” Hope spoke firmly, she needed to see her now before she lost her nerve. She wouldn’t be able to have the courage to talk so openly in front of everyone else in the hut, especially not John.

“Ruth is teaching now, she’ll be back later,” Frank assured her, his arm landing on her back and guiding her toward the huts.

“No Frank, I need to talk to her now. There’s so much I need to say, I…,” she blinked away the tears. “I’ve been a terrible friend.”

Frank’s features softened, he knew that Hope hadn’t meant to shut Ruth out, but he also knew how hurt Ruth had been, it would be good for them to talk things out.

“Alright, be careful.”

Hope nodded, giving Frank a quick hug before turning in the direction of Ruth’s classroom. While she had a been in the infirmary she’d prepared a speech but as her legs carried her closer to the building she couldn’t recall a word of it. ‘Always speak from the heart’, her mother had told her and it was advice that Hope had taken on many occasions.

Hope lifted her hand, wrapping her knuckles against the classroom door. Her heart pounded furiously and her head spun as she fought the urge to turn and walk away. She wasn’t even really sure what she would even say to Ruth, so much time had passed since they’d last spoken that she wasn’t sure how well she knew her best friend anymore.

Ruth's sweet, singsong voice answered and Hope pushed back the door, peering her head around and coming face to face with the group of men all sat at desks. She knew most of them and hated the feeling of their eyes upon her, ever since the incident last week she’d had a job to let any man near her other than Frank and Edmund.

Ruth turned away from the chalkboard, her mouth morphing into a surprised ‘o’ before she forced a smile. After glancing at her watch, she placed down the chalk.

“I think that’ll be all for today. Make sure to read up to Act 3, scene 2, and we’ll go from there in the next lesson.”

The men packed up quickly, sensing the unspoken tension between the women and Hope hated that she’d interrupted Ruth’s class, but if she didn’t keep her nerve she wasn’t sure if they would speak again.

She watched from the doorway, nervously shuffling from foot to foot as she watched the men hurriedly pack up their books and scuttle past her.

Ruth leaned against her desk, arms crossed across her chest as she waited expectantly. To say she was surprised to see her friend in her class was an understatement. In all the time she’d been teaching in the camp Hope had never once visited.

Ruth didn’t quite look annoyed but Hope knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t exactly pleased that she hadn’t allowed her to visit the infirmary.

“I’m glad to see you’re up and about again,” Ruth replied plainly, a faint smile on her lips. “You had me worried, Hope…had me worried for a while now. Since the crash, you’ve not been yourself, and I understand that, but…” she cut herself off, pushing herself away from her desk and moving to a table a few feet away from Hope.

Hope kept her eyes trained on the floor, unable to meet Ruth’s eyes, embarrassment clear on her reddening cheeks as the tears building in her eyes threatened to fall.

“I’m sorry, Rue…” she mumbled softly. She didn’t know what to say. She truly was sorry but didn’t know if that was going to cut it.

Ruth sighed, moving closer and standing before her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I know things haven’t been easy for you, but things haven’t been easy for me, either. We need each other, and you pushed me away…pushed us all away.”

Tears welled in Ruth’s eyes, too, and Hope felt a choked sob slipping from her lips, “I failed you, Ruth. I just keep failing and disappointing you.” Sympathy easily overpowered Ruth’s frustration, and she tugged Hope into an embrace. Hope’s head fell against the blonde's shoulder and she felt Ruth’s arms encasing her as she cried.

It was the most relief she’d felt in months: to truly cry…to release all the emotions that had been bottled up for the past month. “I’m so sorry, Ruth.”

The two women remained fixed, each clinging to the other as they cried over the events of the last few months. Neither of them had truly faced what had become of them but it was good to finally share in their grief. To face reality together.

Ruth pulled back, rubbing away the stray tears that streaked down her pale cheeks. “Hope please tell me what happened. Frank said you collapsed from exhaustion and didn’t want anyone to visit. I tried to anyways but Dr. Edmund said you weren’t up for visitors.”

Hope bit her lip. She didn’t want to talk about what happened, she’d tried to push away the images of that fateful morning, tried to scrub her skin to rid herself of his touch. Ruth’s eyes remained trained on her, pleading for answers.

“Well, I’ve not been sleeping too well for a while now but I’d finally finished the letter to Gale that Edmund promised to pass onto him,” she began, inhaling sharply between each sentence. “I went to the infirmary earlier, I couldn’t sleep and I wanted Edmund to have it as soon as possible. I went to the infirmary to drop it off and there was this man there…”

She gulped.

“He was a patient and was as good as dead, but…”

Ruth couldn’t help the emotion that clawed at her throat as Hope spoke. Her friend’s voice sounded so broken and painful as she relived the events that Ruth didn’t know what to say. What could she say?

“He grabbed me and he tried too… Well, he didn’t manage it. Edmund said it was all the shock of that and the sleep deprivation that my body finally just gave up. He put me on bed rest. Frank only found out because I was unconscious when he arrived and Edmund let him in.”

Hope let out a long sigh, reaching to take Ruth’s shaking hands in her own, “I didn’t want you to see me so broken, Rue. I’ve always promised that I’d look after you but all I do is keep failing and letting you down.”

Ruth shook her head, fighting to keep her lip from trembling, “You haven’t failed me, alright? You’re the strongest, most talented, hardest working person I know, and you’re the most incredible nurse. I wouldn’t be here without you. Thank you for taking care of me, but it’s my turn to take care of you. You just have to let me.”

A painful wail slipped from Hope as she sobbed once more, surrendering to her own grief. How had she been so blind to the pain she’d caused her friend?

“I love you, Rue, I love you so much and I can’t lose you.”

Ruth’s hand smoothed down Hope’s back, “I love you too, Hope. And don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

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#masters of the air #hbo war #gale cleven #john egan #Gale cleven x oc #hope armstrong #mota #mota fanfic

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