#go back to watching blues clues JESUS

[inkyquince]

Look, i know the homophobic-and-repressed-gay bully trope is bad.

but my god it can be so good if you GET it. if you UNDERSTAND.

It's the same sort of understanding when you're watching Hannibal and you're crying and bleeding for Hannigram. You know someone gets it and when someone doesnt get it. "They're toxic" thats the point. It's entertaining. It's hot. Why are you in my house.

I either love relationships like Morticia and Gomez or the fun toxic.

if its a toxic het couple, its pretty flop most of the time. why would i wanna watch marriage story, i already watched it unfold while quietly trying to finish my food at my friend's house. That's just life.

toxic gay couple, then that's just iconic. if you get it, you get it. killing eve, hannibal, leighton and I and Leighton. We're iconic toxic

can u tell ive already had some wine while im writing dol stuff?

i can

anyway, the h-a-r-g-b trope is great in the right hands, like whitney, if you play it right.

i have more thoughts when i have less red wine in my system

[mywritersmind]

OBVIOUSLY OBLIVIOUS - LN4

summary : she thought the hoodie was her brothers, she should have known since the comfort was too good.

listen up : hating on landos style. fewtrell!sister. messages!!

word count : 729

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m practically imprinted into the couch, flipping another page of my book and yawning. I’m at my brother's house for the weekend but after a night of streaming, he’s probably passed out in his room.

It’s early but I still have my makeup on from the night before. I went clubbing with my friends and was desperately craving a good book in my pajamas with a side of ice cream.

I sit comfortably with Billie Eilish playing on low and my brother's hoodie on me. It’s an extremely good find, soft and cute which is rare for Max. It’s got a red heart on the back with black letters that say ‘MAISON DE MONACO’ No clue what that is but it’s fancy.

I jump when I hear my brother's door creek open, “Jesus, you scared me.” I shake my head and look back down at my book.

The voice who answers isn’t my brother, “Sorry, forgot Max’s house is a billion years old.” Yet the familiarity washes over me.

“I forgot you were here.” I look over to Lando who’s filling up his water in the kitchen. It had completely slipped my mind that Lando was staying here for the night.

“Wow, thanks.” He turns around, drinking his water while looking at me funny.

“You alright?” I ask the boy as nods slowly.

“I like your hoodie.” He says, nodding down to the gray fabric.

“Thanks, It’s Max’s.” I shrug and look back to my book, “Quite nice. Didn't know my brother had such good taste.”

Lando laughs a bit, “Maybe my style is rubbing off on him.” I roll my eyes as he watches me closely.

I don’t mean to laugh as hard as I do, “Keep telling yourself that, love.” I shake my head as his eyes narrow.

“What, you don’t like my style?” I close my book and sigh.

“It’s just… very driver-like.” I say as he frowns, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You don’t like any driver's style?” He takes a seat at the end of the couch.

“No! I love Lewis’ and Zhou’s! You just… don’t have that. Max is probably being influenced by Pietra.” I lean my head back on the cushions, my body facing his.

“Maybe I need a girlfriend then.” He says easily, tilting his head against the pillow and looking at me with eyes that I could lose myself in.

I shake off the feeling, opening my book back up, “Would probably help.” He side eyes me.

We stay silent then, I fall back into my story as he scrolls on his phone. Still, Lando can’t be focused on anything for too long (odd considering the whole two hour non stop driving thing) so he bugs me two minutes after we stopped speaking.

He’s staring at me. I can feel the gaze of his blue eyes while I'm reading. I glance up to meet his eyes, “Is there something on my face?”

His smile sneaks back onto his face, “No. You just…” He licks his lips and shakes his head, “Sorry. I gotta go- Have a good day, Y/N.”

“Bye…?” he’s out the door before I even finish the word. I just shrug and try to ignore the tingles in my fingertips.

An hour passes and my brother's door opens for the second time this morning, letting out a loud and long groan. “Good Morning to you too.” I laugh as Max falls onto the couch, his face in the pillows. “Hey, I’m stopping by the store so text me what crisps yo-”

His head pops up and interrupts me, “What are you wearing?” He makes a face which immediately concerns me.

“What?”

“Your hoodie. I know it’s not yours because it’s like Fifty Five Thousand pounds.” My jaw drops.

I slam my book shut, “This isn’t yours?”

“Christ, Y/N how much money do you think I make? What’d you do, rob the store?” He’s being serious and I feel ill.

“Max. I found this in your room.” His confusion turns into humor when the realization hits and he breaks into laughter.

“You’re-”

I don’t want him to say it, “No.”

He seals my fate while laughing, “You're wearing Landos hoodie.” He says befitting shoving his face back into a pillow, muffling his giggle.

I roll my eyes, “You child!” I throw a pillow at him and grab my phone.

[monst]

Escalation

Tim Drake x Reader

Summary: Tim had been orbiting you for a while now. It’s been weeks of him trying to get your attention, not that he hadn’t managed to grab it, you were just really good at pretending to be oblivious. Why were you being purposefully oblivious when you clearly fancied him? Well? He was prone to escalation.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDI), Snapchat, M. Masterbastion, Unsolicited video, Dubious phone sex (Reader calls Tim and doesn't know he's getting off but is into it)

WC: 1.1k

    He thought he was slick. But he was surprisingly more predictable than you originally thought, that or he was starting to get really desperate. Your first clue into his most recent scheme was his story, his story on Snap of all places. It wasn’t often that Tim used the app nor was it often that he posted his current location. Said location turned out to be a dive bar in the fashion district with his civilian friends. You let out a low whistle when you caught a glimpse of his outfit for the night. You couldn't lie it was a cute setup. 

    So, it really wasn’t a surprise when you received a snap a couple hours into the night. See Tim had been orbiting you for a while now. It’s been weeks of him trying to get your attention, not that he hadn’t managed to grab it, you were just really good at pretending to be oblivious. Why were you being purposefully oblivious when you clearly fancied him? Well? He was prone to escalation. And you were morbidly curious to see what scheme he’d cook up next.

    When you first caught on to his feelings for you it was by his change in style, some stronger cologne, and him just barely entering your personal space. It was ridiculously flattering catching him in the act of getting into the perfect pose for you to walk in on. But as if that wasn’t enough for him he’d also gotten very flirty, every other sentence an innuendo you had to pretend to miss, and very interesting pictures of him had begun to fill your shared group chat. Now you would have given him a sign much sooner had he not pulled that stunt two weeks ago. Jeez, he was practically throwing himself at you and at Tam’s birthday party no less. If you had to guess it was that, that had you playing pretend. You wanted to see how far he’d go till he had no choice but to just come out and say it. 

    But back to that unopened snap. You figured it’d be some staged ‘randomly drunk shenanigans’. If you had to take a guess, considering the bar he was patroning he was probably going to be grinding on a pole, pretty face flushed a rosy pink, glossy lips muttering the song lyrics, his sultry blue eyes half lidded gazing into whichever camera was catching the roll of his hips against the metal, probably running pale hands down his glitter covered skin, see through shirt clinging to his muscles as his shapely legs gripped onto the pole. He was surprisingly good at pole dancing and the thought of it being a free show had you sat on your couch to watch. 

    “Okay Timmy” You snickered “Let’s se-

        Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes moving across the screen rapidly as you took the sight laid out before you. 

       “No way” You couldn’t see anything in the room save for what the blue light of his computer screen revealed. And reveal it did. You heard yourself swallow, as your eyes followed his tongue swiping against his plump bottom lip. They parted out of frame when his head slipped back, the long column of his pale neck a stark contrast against his black gaming chair. It was the faded scar on his neck that confirmed his identity for you. Your eyes went lower, watching as his chest rose and fell, pebbled pink nipples almost distracting you from the bead of sweat cutting a line down his pecs. 

    “Ungh f-fuck” You nearly jumped at the groan. Eyes widening as you were provided with audio. His panting could be heard from your phone speaker, and movement had your eyes slipping further down his body. 

        “Jesus” you exhaled. You knew Tim was pretty but his cock had no right in sharing that with the rest of him. You felt your cheeks warm at the sight parted thighs, his palm squeezing the base of his surprisingly generously thick length.

    He let out a tantalizing whimper as he tugged his hand upwards, bucking his hips into his fist. The wet slide made easier with how much precum his reddening tip leaked. His other hand was gripping the arm of the chair tight, blue veins popping against his fair complexion. 

       “Mmm just like that.” He moaned. He suddenly paused and you brought your phone in closer. He leaned forward the lower half of his face back in frame as his slickend fingers grabbed his phone from the desk. You let out a shuddered breath at his unabashed moan when he pulled the device to his face to pick up a call. His palm came down to squeeze at his heavy sack, once again bucking into his grip. 

     His teeth caught his bottom lip. As he placed his phone in the crook of his neck, his other hand coming down to tease the head of his drooling cock, resuming a slow pace.. He huffed out a laugh in response to whoever was speaking. 

     “Me?” He gasped, voice a pitch higher. He coughed “W-working out… Ngh… Weahights lifting rigght now” He lied. 

     “‘Course” he let out a breathless laugh and it was then that you clocked it. 

     “He’s crazy” You breathed out. “Absolutely shameless.” As you squirmed you couldn’t help but remember that call, you really had hung up none the wiser. You really shouldn’t have found it as hot as you did. You bit your lip when the call dropped and he let his phone fall. His hand furiously working his throbbing length. He gaped, his head falling back again, his dark locks sticking to his flushed cheeks. 

     “Need you so fucking bad” He whined. His pink tongue peeked out from his pretty lips, pleasured mewls flowing freely. He leaned forward one hand gripping the edge of the desk while turning his head into his arm. “Mm god yes, wanna come inside you please” The muscles in his arm trembled as he came with a whimper that could arguably be your name. You watched in silence as he caught his breath, his skin flushed all the way down to his shoulders. Then abruptly the video ended. You let out a shaky breath, staring at the snap, eyes glued to the words Opened. 

      You’d really like nothing more than to save it to the chat or better yet replay it in bed. 

   “Well damn,” It’d be difficult to play this one off but you were crafty. Surly you’d figure something out.. Pretend you couldn’t open the video? But then again did you really want to? Well.. maybe just a bit longer. Tim’s always been the type to outdo himself. You can only wonder how this time. 

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

[creativeashproductions]

Murder Mysteries and Afterlife Businesses // Wally Clark

IN WHICH: Maddie Nears is unaware of one ghost at Split River High School with the connections to help after dead end after dead end. The issue? Well the reader hasn’t stepped in the school since 2013 due to a certain dead jock.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, mention of murder, ghosts and some fluff

Words: 2.7k

A/N: Reader’s nickname is Renaissance since she’s an artist! Renai is pronounced Ren-ah. Reader is a twin!

I could be persuaded to make a part 2 (or more parts).

Masterlist | Next Part

The frustration of dead ends for the mystery behind Maddie was driving her crazy. The inability to leave the school property left Maddie placing a lot of trust and lack of control in other people’s hands. And most of the ones involved had no clue Maddie was wandering the school in the afterlife. And Maddie thus far only trusted 25% of the Scooby Gang attempting to get answers.

There was really only one person in the afterlife with better ways of providing new avenues of searching. But it’s difficult when a metaphorical cavern between two ghosts prevents it.

“Well, Cherrypop, if you want the behind-the-scenes exclusive, maybe you should visit Wally’s girlfriend.” Rhonda’s lips were twisted in a smirk. Her beret sitting prettily on her curls.

Maddie’s blue eyes fled one ghost for the one shifting on his chair in the library space. The support group ended thirty minutes ago, but Maddie needed more information.

“Girl-“

“Rhonda, seriously.” Wally groaned, flopping back on the couch and staring up at the speckles of some mysterious substance on the ceiling, “We’re on a break.”

“For the last ten years.” Charley supplied, flinching when Wally pinched his leg.

Wally’s mouth opened to reply before closing, “She doesn’t want to speak to me.”

Once upon a time, Split River High School had a bludgeoning art studio and an excellent program. You dabbled in many different art forms, but following an unfortunate fire, the program perished, along with the studio and you. The school had rebuilt the studio with better fire-resistant products and attempted to revive the program. It failed ultimately. Even the art scene didn’t want to work in the same building where two students and a teacher had perished. So the program was shifted to a wing inside the school.

Out of sheer surprise, the building was sealed off and avoided by everyone but the janitor.

You and Brady had built a moderately successful afterlife business creating different objects. Then, you were commissioned by the fellow dead to make blankets and pottery around the holidays and birthdays. You barely left the studio, and then you met Wally.

Split River High School, 2010

Your face glanced down at the watch on your wrist before shifting the blanket in your arms around. You were running behind delivering the blanket to Mina. How humourous that even in death, you were always running late.

Typically Brady was the one to deliver items while you stayed in the art studio working. But, unfortunately, the delivery date for Mina fell on the annual day he deemed his ‘day off’ to mourn his life.

And to think you were the theatre kid with how dramatic he could be.

“Why the hell do I need to deliver this. Mina barely likes me and- OH!” You exclaimed, slamming into the linoleum ground.

“Shit!”

You grunted when a body fell right onto your body, “Jesus, dude!”

The other person rolled off to stare at the ceiling in pain. His eyes scrunched closed and curled in the fetal position.

“Watch where you’re going, meathead!” You exclaimed, sitting up to grab the blanket lying on the ground. You didn’t give the guy another glance while you carefully folded the blanket back up and fixed the card on top.

“I’m dead. Why does getting kneeled in the balls still hurt?” He wheezed, slowly rolling to sit up. You knew even with him sitting, he was tall and a jock, given the varsity jacket he wore bearing the older mascot the school retired years ago.

“God, I am so giving Brady garbage duty for the next month!” You huffed, turning to look him in the face properly, “You are so glad this was breaka….”

Wally knew of the afterlife business conducted out of the building on the far corner of the school’s property. Knew that Charley had gotten the coffee mug Wally got for Christmas a few years prior. While Rhonda had tall, thick walls, and sarcasm adored the bracelet Janet had given her. Wally had just never had a reason to go there. He’d seen one of the twins delivering items, but he never saw the other twin. You.

“Hi.” Wally breathlessly spoke, instantly falling for the person standing before him. Regardless of the harsh glare, he quickly scooped the items from your arms, “Let me help.”

And for some reason, you let him. He held the door open to the theatre for you and listened intently to everything you said. It was an instant connection. A friendship with the potential of more.

Wally became a new feature in the art studio while Brady and you worked. He was with the twins when he wasn’t at the support group or on the field. It didn’t take long before Wally asked you out.

And for three years, you built an afterlife together. Until it fell apart in 2013.

For the last decade, you had become more reclusive than previously, partially due to running Highlands House alone without Brady and partly to avoid running into Wally. An ache swelled, thinking of the tall brunette.

You shoved the thought of him aside to focus on the handmade journal Rhonda had commissioned. You’d worked hard to develop the craft of making your own paper and enjoyed it when she popped in when you asked to go over the cover details.

When Brady was still here, you worked more on having clients come to the studio, but you’d managed to get a phone. It was hard to get and used for clients to contact with requests for appointments and contact.

As you said. You’d become reclusive.

So when the knock on the door happened, your eyebrows raised. Your e/c eyes glance at the calendar on the desk. Not a single appointment for today and one known visits you. If Mina left the theatre, you had a feeling she would.

“Renai?”

Your eye quite literally twitched hearing his voice. You kept silent.

“I know you’re there, Renai. I can hear the kiln, and I know you barely move your eyes away from it when it’s firing!”

No matter how much you wanted to slam Rhonda’s notebook on the floor, you refrained. Instead, you smoothed your hair and took a deep breath before striding out of the workroom to the front office. The lock clicked open, and you saw Wally standing there with Charley behind him.

“Hi.” Charley’s smile was watery at best. The apology clears in his expression.

“You so afraid of seeing me you brought backup.” You inquired through the open space between the edge of the door and the jam.

“I think you’re less likely to punch me with him here.” Wally returned with a half smile. His brown eyes watched your lips twist.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for Charley.” Although you admitted opening the door to the duo standing outside, “I wouldn’t punch you. I need my hands.”

You ignored the feeling Wally’s chuckle brought you by leading them to the small sitting room you’d set up. You’d barely sat in the chair with drinks in hand. Tea for Charley, a Gatorade for Wally and your beverage of choice.

“What made you crawl out of whatever hole you’ve been hiding in for the last decade.” You questioned, “Because Charley was here last week to get Mr. Martin’s mug. By the way, how’d he like it, Charley?”

“He loves it.” Charley quietly interjected decidedly, trying to avoid the quarrel he hoped would end sooner rather than later.

Yet it still smouldered.

“It’s not like you’d left the buil-“

“Not like I have a choice.” You shut Wally’s question down. He winced, nodding, “I’m guessing this is more of a business trip than personal.”

Wally nodded. Charley delved into the story of the newest member of Split River Afterlife and the mystery of her death. You didn’t know who this Maddie was, and that was primarily due to how you kept away from the living world.

“So she was murdered in the boiler room.” You finished for Charley, “And you’ve found out she can talk with the living.”

“And I was wondering if you could check in with Jo-“

Your eyes left Charley’s calm ones to Wally’s sitting there in the audacity he had. The cup in your hand slammed against the table so hard you wondered how it hadn’t shattered.

“Are you shitting me, Clark? You come here after so many damn years because you need something from me?!” You exclaimed, taking a step away from your ex-boyfriend.

Charley bit his lip like the meme he saw on Emilio’s phone of Michael Scott from The Office. Charley really didn’t like confrontation all that much. But look where it got him.

“It’s just I feel for her, you know. We all came to the afterlife knowing what happened. And she’s suddenly dead with no idea how or who did it. She’s all alone, and I think you two-“Wally pleaded, attempting to step closer.

“And whose fault is it I’m alone.” You snapped. Wally flinched back, and Charley gasped, “Please leave. I have work to do.”

You fled for the workroom leaving the two in the sitting area digesting what had happened. Charley guided Wally from the building toward the library, where they had left Rhonda and Maddie alone.

“I knew me going was a bad idea. She hates me. Still.” Wally moaned, collapsing onto the couch to sling his arm across his eyes.

“Blowout?” Rhonda ignores the lump of an athlete on the couch.

“Explosive.” Charley replied, turning to ask Maddie, only to find the place empty, “Uh… where’s Maddie?”

You’d slapped the closed sign on the door before stalking away from it and the memories. A trinket is nimbly held by your fingerprints. But, despite wanting to rebel against Wally’s request, you couldn’t ignore the guilt of even considering not helping.

“Joel!” You shouted near the edge of the school property. The chain link fence is the physical evidence of where the property was cut off from the forest. You hated coming to this part because you could feel the eyes of the dead watching from the shadows.

A tall, lanky form materialized from behind one of the trees. He was wearing the sweater you’d swiped from the lost and found. His red hair was as bright as the fire extinguished in the kiln.

“Renaissance,” Joel responded, coming to the chainlink fence. His hand held out for the stamp you’d pay with for any information.

Life was easier when money was accessible. Now instead of cash, it was trading items and favours. Paying for information was more complicated, and Joel didn’t require new clothing as of yet.

“Have you heard anything about the recent disappearance of Madison Nears? She goes by Maddie.” You questioned, stepping away before his skin could brush yours. You hated the screams you audibly heard each time you felt his skin or even his clothes.

Joel curiously looked over the stamp, “I do not have this stamp.”

Getting information from Joel was more challenging than pulling teeth. You loathed any time you lost a piece of leverage for information. It is tough to find stamps the soldier hadn’t collected in the last century and a half since the Civil War.

“Joel.” You huffed, bringing the soldier’s attention back to you.

“I have not. The death of Maddie Nears is no more significant than that of a deer.” Joel responded, looking up to meet the disappointment on your face, “You are kind to me and my fellow soldiers in the face of our part in the Civil War. I shall gather information for you.”

You watched silently as Joel faded into the shadows of Split River’s forest bordering the school grounds. The unease of his presence followed him as well.

Working on any Highlands projects was illogical with how distracted you were. Wally appearing after so long had indeed thrown you for a loop. You were sure everyone would understand things being late by a day.

“You never did tell me where you got this.” Mr. Martin announced from his spot at your desk. His eyes scanned the phone lying facedown on the table.

Your spine stiffened, seeing the ghost in your safe place. The afterlife teacher, slash support group leader, had always rubbed you the wrong way. Something about him felt off, but you could never put your finger on it.

“You evade every question I have.” You deflected grabbing the phone from the desk to lock away in the filing cabinet, “What can I do for you, Mr. Martin?”

“I’m wondering how your grief eased after seeing Mr. Clark so much you agreed to help him. You know this misguided wild goose chase is destructive to Maddie acknowledging and accepting her death.” Mr. Martin replied, dragging a finger down one of the planting pots you had on display. Your flesh goosed seeing his finger disrupt the pottery.

Your laser focus is pinned on Mr. Martin, “Everyone copes differently.”

“And how are you coping with Brady crossing over?” Mr. Martin demanded, turning to face you fully.

Brady’s name, let alone the question, felt like Mr. Martin was shoving a red-hot poker in a wound.

“Fine.” Your features shuttered close from the prodding, “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave Mr. Martin. Highlands House is closed.”

You had never distrusted someone more than the teacher, leaving your business and home with confidence.

“Remember our agreement Renaissance.”

The nickname you’d gained in the afterlife felt comfortable hearing from him. You refused to speak more to the teacher.

Walking the halls of the high school’s main building felt odd after so long. It still smelt of a mixture of questionable cafeteria food, BO, and unrecognizable scents. Little had changed. You couldn’t tell if you felt comforted by that or not.

“-she’s a loner.” Charley’s voice drifted into the library’s opening as you entered quietly.

“All the more reason to talk to her!”

The object of your mission cradled delicately in your hands. The heads of the ghosts in attendance; Charley, Rhonda, Wally and the new girl, you guessed.

“Rhonda, I have your journal ready.” You notified the group but focused on the teen kneeling before the coffee table.

“You’re Renaissance. You own Highlands House.” The blonde female declared, leaning forward, “Have you learnt-“

“Maddie. Manners.” Charley ground his teeth together in a small that bordered more on a grimace, “I’m so sorry, Renai.”

You waved it off, “Hello, Maddie. Welcome to Split Valley afterlife. I haven’t gotten anything from my contact yet, and I’ve received no messages from other ghosts in town. So I’m just here to drop off Rhonda’s journal and head back to the studio. Unfortunately, the ghost who died in Mr. Anderson’s house crossed over a few months ago.”

With that, you turned on your heel and made it a handful of steps down the hall when Wally called out. Then, your feet abruptly stopped striding from the library.

“You haven’t made a delivery since Brady crossed over. You have one of the freshmen help out. What brought you to the school?”

“Curiosity more than anything. Strengthen the relationship with the customers.”

“Bullshit.” Wally spoke, stepping closer to you, “You know something.”

“Nothing of importance yet. It’s hard to get information when and I quote, ‘her is no more significant than that of a deer’. It’s not like she doesn’t have eternity to figure it out.”

“She shouldn’t have to wait that long for answers,” Wally argued, crossing his arms and stretching the white t-shirt under the varsity jacket.

Your e/c eyes scrutinized the jacket you’d worn often during your relationship with the brunette. The dances you’d attended with him and cheering from your spot in the stands for homecoming. Getting to know Mrs. Clark, albeit her being unaware of yours or Wally’s presence and holding him the fifth anniversary, his dad stopped coming.

You’d loved, and if you were to admit it, still loved Wally Clark in every atom of you. But the pain of losing Brady and Wally’s involvement cut deep. You weren’t ready to forgive. You didn’t know if you would ever be able to forgive him.

You cleared your throat, “I’ll let you all know if I hear any news. Be easier if Maddie had someone from her life helping.”

You didn’t see the guilt appear on his features.

“For what it’s worth, Renai. Thank you for helping.”

Your soft smile was answer enough for the football player and reignited his mission to have you forgive him. And rekindle your relationship. Wally wasted enough time with you.

Tag List: Let me know if you want to be tagged!

@websterss

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 6!!

July 6th <3

Limb - @jegulus-microfic - words: 826

First part Previous part

Regulus felt his eyes flicker open, the golden morning sunlight cast bright rays on his pale freckled skin and lit up flecks of blue in his dark eyes.

That’s strange, he pondered. He never woke up to the sun on his face, his bed wasn’t in line with it in cabin.

He opened his drowsy tired eyes and let them flick around the room.

First, he spotted an open laptop paused on the ending credits of call me by your name. Next, he noticed a pair of round glasses placed on the nightstand.

He swallowed, turning around hesitantly to see exactly what he was expecting. James Potter was curled up, his tan limbs falling half off the bed while he snored lightly in his sleep.

The older boy was in a deep sleep, his chest rising and falling and his dark brown hair sticking up and falling over his face.

Waking up in an instant, Regulus felt his eyes widen and his heart drop to his stomach.

That is… so embarrassing. He chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously.

Carefully, he went to stand up. That’s when he noticed the blanket that had clearly been draped over him and the way he fell asleep leant against a wall, a pillow behind his head. Blood rushed to his cheeks, flushing his face as he looked down at the sleeping man.

James had his legs tucked under the same blanket and no pillow behind his head.

A smile snuck its way up onto Regulus’ chapped lips, he let it stay there though, no one was there to see it.

Releasing a breath, he lifted the velvety blanket from his lap and softly draped it over James’ surely cold body. He moved the pillow, gently lifting the brunettes head up and being sure not to wake him while he placed the pillow behind his head.

The smile still on his face, he gazed at James’ beauty for a moment. The early morning light landing half on his face and his lips slightly parted tilted upwards.

Slowly grabbing the door handle, it opened with a quiet click before he shut it again.

As soon as he got outside he grinned like an idiot, closing his eyes, shaking his head and walking through the sun dappled forest floor.

-

“Why are you… smiling?” Sirius asked with a sceptical look on his face, sitting down next to Regulus under a tree during the kids lunch break.

Regulus was absentmindedly scrolling his phone, by that it means that he’s stalking James’ instagram account.

He shut his phone quickly, gazing up at his brother and adjusting his face back into his usual. “And nevermind, resting bitch face is back!” Sirius spoke with a fake tone of joy.

“Sod off Sirius.” He grumbled, hiding his phone in his pocket and praying that he didn’t accidentally like any posts in the process.

“What were you smiling at?” His brother teased.

“Your downfall.” Regulus deadpanned, ignoring it when Sirius sat next to him and swatted the back of his head, his black curls falling around his face loosely.

Giving him an unimpressed look, Sirius huffed and rolled his eyes. “How’s the cabin situation going?” His eye visibly twitched.

“Eh.” Regulus tilted his head, purposely not sharing anymore information because he really doesn’t have a clue how he feels about it either.

“Eh?” Sirius mimicked, lifting an eyebrow.

Regulus nodded. “Exactly.” He waved his hands around in the air to prove a point before slouching back up against the tree, staring at the stars sketched into his emerald converse. “How about you?” He changed the topic swiftly.

Sirius’ face lit up, his eyes glowing with adoration and his cheeks the same colour as the maroon of his sweater. “I’m so glad you asked Reggie.” He beamed, Regulus groaned. “We watch movies, we cuddle, we talk-“ He went on and on about it, received multiple snarky comments from his little brother.

Giving a fake gag, Regulus elbowed Sirius. “Okay- Jesus, I get it.”

“What?” Sirius pouted. “Don’t you and James cuddle?” He joked with a loud barking laugh.

Regulus cheeks glowed red, he could feel it, from his shoulders to the tips of his ears. He never blushes, but when he does it’s obvious on his pale skin, and really bad.

He attempted to hide it with a snarl and looked away, Sirius seemed too busy carving something into the tree behind them to even notice. “Don’t be a prick.” Regulus lectured.

“Aw, you’re so cute when you get red and angry.” Sirius cooed, clearly mistaking the blush for anger - in this instance, that was a god send. The older booped his nose, getting a pile of leaves thrown at him in return.

“Take it back.” Regulus glared as he held up a pile of leaves to Sirius’ hair. “I swear to god Sirius-“

“Okay, okay! You’re not cute.” A beat. “You’re ugly-“

A whack in the face. “Fuck!”

Next part

[constanthaunt]

okay but DETECTIVE AU WHEN??

“Harding’s canning the investigation,” Gale says, taking the seat in front of Bucky’s desk. 

Across the room, Bucky stills. 

Atop the precious few casenotes in his hand, a photograph of James Douglass stares back at him. It’s black and white, but Bucky knows his eyes are blue. His wife tells him as much, clutching a photo frame tight, like she might be able to keep him there forever. 

“He tell you why?” he asks. 

Gale’s quiet. When Bucky looks up at him, his jaw’s set stiff, face turned towards the window. His mouth works around a toothpick. He’s lost his jacket since the last time Bucky saw him a few hours ago, his shirt sleeves pushed up his forearms rather than neatly folded. They’re resting on the arms of the chair, like he’s waiting for Bucky to flick a switch, God have mercy on him. 

Like he didn't sit there himself.

“You tell me why you disobeyed him and went behind my back, then you ask me that again,” Gale says, still not looking at him. 

Bucky feels his own jaw twitch. 

“What, because I went and spoke to his missus again? That’s horseshit and you know it, Buck. They’ve been looking for any excuse to—”

“And you gave them it, John!” Gale snaps, incredulous. He’s still sitting there, but gripping the edge of the armrest now, skin pulling tight over the bones of his knuckles. “You gave them exactly what they wanted and some.” 

“You know as well as I do that she knows more—”

“No, no—I don’t know shit, John. I ain’t working with nothing and neither are you.” 

There’s a knot forming in Bucky’s chest, big and grotesque. It crushes his lungs tight against his ribcage, making it harder to breathe. He looks down at Douglass again before snapping the folder shut and tossing it back onto his desk. It settles from a slide next to Blakley’s. He slams the filing cabinet closed beside him. Gale flinches a little, and it brings the knot to his throat. He wants to be sick. 

“Convenient for you, though, right?”

“John,” Gale warns.

“What I don’t understand—”

“Quit it, John.”

“—is why you of all people wouldn’t want this asshole caught—”

“John.”

“—’cause God knows the next time he decides to kill a coupla queers in the backseat it might be you and—”

Gale’s out of his seat then, fisting his hands into the front of Bucky’s shirt and hauling him forward, saying, “You shut your goddamn mouth John Egan or I’ll put a fist through it for you.” He’s not even angry, is the thing. Bucky knows what Gale looks like angry; he’s provoked it out of him just as many times he’s wrung an orgasm out of him. 

Gale’s scared. 

Scared of the truth, reality. Scared of the way it’s catching up with him. Bucky’s pretty shit-scared of losing everything too, but it doesn’t come close to the bleak emptiness he sees beyond Gale. It would create a hole in his heart, a blackhole, and everything else would soon follow anyway, engulfed. 

Gale’s eyes are wet. He lets go and turns away, hands on his hips. He’s muttering about how sorry he is, how fucking sorry, and Bucky believes him. 

“Buck,” he says. “Gale.” 

When he reaches out to touch him, Gale shrugs his hand off. 

“Jesus, John, I want to bag the bastard as much as you do,” he’s saying to the wall, “but I ain’t got a clue where to start.”

Bucky sucks on his teeth before reaching for Blakley and Douglass’ files. He touches them to Gale’s arm, watching his face turn down toward them, then back at him. His hand clasps over Bucky’s where he’s still holding the files tightly and he doesn’t let go for the longest time.

[msjuniperjones]

„Fucking finally!“

Please have mercy on me!

It’s my very first smutty fanfic and english is not my first language! But well…it’s his obviously !

+18

Do not read when younger…

The director screams in the scene “cut! Ok this ain’t working! Charlie you supposed to be looking flirty or cheeky, not like you are in pain…”

Under his breath you heard Charlie mumbling. “That’s what it is, painful!”

“…that look comes later, when you actually start the love drama!” The director finished.

You huffed angrily. Painful? The audacity! Charlie starred at you a moment. His eyebrows narrowed his mouth a thin angry line. “I need a minute!” He said loud enough to be heard and strictly turned around to walk back to his trailer. You ripped the robe out of the assistant hands and put it on, covering your half naked form, only wearing a nude thong. You followed Charlie wordlessly. You were fuming!

You stomped through the waiting area of your co-stars who silently watched the both of you disappear. Only Jonathan wears a smirk on his lips: “ they are so going to fuck, finally!”

“Ye…wait what?” Ashley turned her head abruptly to her co-star! “They can’t stand each other!”

“Riiiiiight!…ok everybody let’s do a break! I need some well earned tea!” Jonathan clapped his hands, walking directly to the catering.

—————————

„What is your fucking problem, huh? Come on, tell me!“ you stormed right into his trailer behind him, giving him no time to avoid the drama which is clearly coming. You finally had enough of his attitude.

He turned around and glared at you, talking through clenched teeth: „Please don‘t“

You were not having it. You‘ve been blinded by his beautiful face and intense personality and his sinful body long enough. You were no longer caught in his steel blue eyes and his deliciously full lips, you wanted clarity right now! „No, no Charlie! Tell me! What is it that I make you feel so miserable that you can‘t bring one tiny word out of your fucking mouth without being so fucking annoyed!“

He stormed right in front of you, screaming directly in your face! You felt his breath on your lips and all your resistance and your confidence seems to fade! „Y/N, you have no fucking clue, do you? How I try to hold up the last fucking bit of control I have left in front of you. Not to rip down that fucking robe of yours and devour every little inch of your fucking…” he looked down your robe, eyeing your body behind it. “…Jesus fuck!“ he through his hand to his face, brushing the side of his lips as he tried to regain his long lost mental.

„Fuck me than Hunnam“ your eyes widened as you heard yourself say these words!

„e…excuse me?“ his voice was barely a whisper as his eyes darkened.

„You heard me!“ you were lost in his presence, no control of anything leaving your body, not from your mouth or your lower parts. You only see what your words do to him and you love it!

„actually, I am not sure I fucking have.“ he came even closer, starring directly in your eyes.

„Shall I repeat myself than?“ your eyes wandered down to his lips!

„You better not, darling!“ he bit his lower lip, closing his eyes, collecting every little bit of self-control.

„Why? Are you scared?“ you tilted your head up, exposing more of your neck automatically. Every part of your body is drawn to him.

„YOU should be! You don’t know what you are getting into, Y/N“ his hands found your cheeks as he desperately tried to talk sense in you stubborn head. His thumb drifted over your bottom lip.

You opened your waiting mouth automatically. Earning an intense low growl. You tried again: „Fuck me senseless, Charlie! Come on!“

His one hand wandered into your hair pulling slightly, his other wrapped around your throat. Your whole body was burning of desire for this man. His words though were not matching his actions. „Please stop it, I beg you“

You became desperate. His hands, his eyes, his lips were driving you to madness. All you wanted was him all over your body, finally and fully! „FucK me already! I want to be the one begging you to make me cum over and over again. So please…please fuck me! Char… “

You couldn’t finish your words as your head was pulled harshly by your hair, making you let out a slutty moan right in his mouth, hovering over yours.

“The things I want to do to you, Y/N!

His mind drifted of to the fantasies he so often had the last couple of weeks. But you were done waiting and closed the remaining distance between you. Hungrily, sloppily kissing him open mouthed.

You caught him of guard. He stumbled a little backwards, let you lead the kiss! His hand in your hair loosened and roamed down your body, pressing you even more to his one. The other hand wandered from your throat back to your cheek. His moan vibrating through your body down to your pulsating heat. The kiss made you numb, cut your oxygen and made you feel desperate for more.

It lasts only a few moments as he fought back the control you shamelessly took from him. He pushed you roughly against the wall nearby, fumbling open the robe and revealing your half naked body to him. He hold you there against your shoulder, drinking in your body.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, Hunnam!” You said breathlessly from the kiss.

His eyes flew back to yours, a devilish smirk formed his lips. “Nothing I haven’t seen before but everything I haven’t done to you yet!”

He pushed the robe down your shoulders as he spinned and pinned you back to the wall now facing it.

In one swift motion your hands were pulled upwards and tied together with the belt of your robe, all while he pressed is groin to your back and talking in your ear: “tell me to stop and I will.” He bit your earlobe. “But dear god I hope you won’t!” If you weren’t so hypnotised by this man and his actions, you were impressed by his skills to blindly tie someone up, but you were lost in the feeling and smell of him.

He turned you back to face him, holding your tied hands still above your head. “You know why I love to tie those hands? So no wandering disturb me while I keep pleasuring you, devour you, fuCK you as I please!” His lips landed roughly on yours again. You can’t help but whine by his words. Wouldn’t you wear those thong still, you must be dripping a pool on the ground by then.

He loosened his grip from your hands and hold on to the long end of the belt as he guide your hands over his head. You were a little disappointed that he wouldn’t held you there like a prisoner, but also you’ve been embarrassed by that same thought.

He lifted you up suddenly, walking you blindly to the very end of the trailer were the bed is, yanking over everything which is in his way and never once stopped kissing you. As he felt the bed on his legs he let you fall down, releasing the hold onto the belt.

He must have sensed your slight irritation, because he snickered as he opened his shirt one button at a time.

“Don’t worry, I won’t give you any chance to freely move your little hands. I will pin you down, make you come, make you scream my name and make you beg to finally release your body, your hands to touch me, to make me cum because you can no-longer hold your legs open for me to rip you apart” You just bit your lip and stare at him. You kind of knew he would be a dirty talker, but nothing would have prepared you for this. You were truly speechless.

“Have I finally make your shut your slutty mouth, honey?” He revealed his muscular body as his silky shirt fell down to the floor. Your breath got caught in your throat…heavenly gorgeous was what crossed your mind! His smirk turned dark. He knew exactly how to talk, when to talk and what to do to make you seem as a stupid, mindless fuck doll, but you kinda liked it!

He slowly undressed his pants. “I want you to move up the bed, hands above your head, belt under your shoulder for me to reach and those beautiful legs open…wide!” His voice dropped deeper, burning through your body. You slowly did as you’re told!

As you opened your legs you saw him visibly gulping. Dropping his role for a slight moment. You want to see more of what you did to him. Want to see him lose his shit.

“Are you going to fuck me now daddy?”

His eyes shot to yours. “Daddy, huh?” He smirked.

“Or are you punishing me for being so naughty, master?” His grin widened and his eyebrows raised.

“Or are you pleasuring me in every humanly possible way until I beg you to stop…my king!” His grin faded into a serious dark glance, but you can’t hold back your victory smirk. You’ve found his nerve!

“My king?” You repeated.

He was standing only in his briefs, his form though seem to rise by those words.

“Say that again!” He growled as he climbed the bed.

“My king!” He closed his eyes drinking in the sound. “Again!”

“My king!” He opened his eyes and they were tinted black from lust. You can’t look away, excitement rushed through your body. He lowered his head and positioned before your leaking pussy. Taking in a deep smell.

“Again!”

“My king!’ You whispered in anticipation.

He pulled your thong up your legs and opened them again. A little whimper left your lips. “Again!”

As you tried to say those words again, he went down on you, pushed his tongue throw your folds and directly found the bundle of nerves which made you scream instantly. As you thought earlier, that skill! “My ki….ahhhh fuck”!

He gave no mercy to adjust to that feeling. He instantly took every remaining sense, sucked your soul and left you a moaning, whimpering mess.

You tried to hold on to something while he thrust his tongue over and over that nerve, make you caught your breath and shake uncontrollably. You reach down to his head but were stopped by the belt under your shoulder. You looked down between your legs, a smirk forming on his glistening lips. As he was waiting for you to do so.

He pulled the end of the belt make you arch your back and open even more for his penetration. Your eyes rolled back and you start to moan even louder your shaking got rhythmically and your pussy clenched around noting. “There she goes! Come for me!” And you did as your told. You came loud and messy. Moving against his lips, his beard. Mumbling and begging: “please don’t stop, please don’t stop. Keep going…I need more…oh yes…more, more!” You threw your head back even more, clenching even more. You are so fucking horny that your second orgasm is on the edge of the first but you just need a little more!

Charlie watched in awe, in disbelief of how fucking sexy you are. How delicious you taste, how amazing you smell. How you begged him for more even though you were still in your first shaking orgasm. He let go of the belt, you definitely won’t realise. He replaced his tongue by the fingers of his left hand as he licked those on the right. You wanted more, it was fine by him! He inserted two, easily gliding deep and curling them upwards. You screamed a second time. “Oh my god yessss…”

It was now his time to be speechless. He moved his fingers slowly, feeling every inch and giving you time to breathe.

Your moans started to match his slow but intense strokes. He kissed your upper leg and draw your intention back to him. “Next time you come honey, you fucking look at me!” He playfully bit your leg and draw a lustful laugh from you.

His strokes got a little faster and his fingers found your clit again. “Charlie please…!”

“Nah no begging just yet!” He interrupted you as he dove back between your legs sucking your nerve between his lips. You automatically raised your hip from the bed. “I should have tied you completely to the bed, love!” “You should shut up and keep going!” You breathlessly demanded!

Charlie raised his brows “Your wish is my command, my queen!” A flood rushed through your body. Now you understand the impact of those words. It’s fucking passionate, loving and submissive at once. Perfection!

His tongue ripped you back from your thought as it dove right into your heat! “Fucking hell…” you moaned out.

You were so sensitive that this new move was a welcome change. His tongue was quickly replaced by his fingers again, but no slow strokes. He found your g-spot instantly penetrating you hard and fast, quickened your breath. Your eyes are shut tight focusing not to totally loose consciousness, so you don’t see him hovering over your hardened nipple ready to tip you over. He went down twirling your nipple trough his teeth making you come a third time. “Look at me!” You opened your eyes and looked down to face him. And god what a view! His pupils blown by the sheer lust, his lips still glistening from your fluid, his hair messily fall in his face, is muscle flexing while fucking you with his fingers. Your orgasm reached a new peak just by his look! “Charlie, oh my please!” You trembled and your legs shaking. Your pussy swollen from the penetration covered his hand in your juice, he slowly withdraw.

He watched his fingers disappear in your mouth, licking them clean. “Heaven! Don’t you think?” He stated like its the normal thing to do! As you released his fingers he just looked at you. “What?” You said a little nervous.

“Do you have any idea, how often I came to the sheer thought of you. How often I yanked myself off after touching you in front of the fucking camera. How you drove me wild and left me insane with your flirty attitude! And now you are lying here, to my mercy. Ready to take my dick and scream my name over and over. I should celebrate that moment by not rushing to much.” his grin turned boyish.

“You yanked yourself off thinking about me?”

You repeated lustfully.

“This is what stuck out from what I was telling you? Really?” He laughed.

“Did you?” You asked again.

“This is what I said” curiosity replaced his laugh.

“Show me!” you bit your lip! As much as you like to feel his dick inside of you, him yanking off while looking at you is another level. He kissed you deep, invading your mouth with his tongue. You taste your juices still. As he broke away, he left your body fully. “I’m all about the service today I guess!” He smiled cheekily.

He came to a stand. His body radiate heat and masculinity. His posture intimidating but exciting. He dropped his briefs and released finally his dick. This giant gorgeous dick. You hold your breath! “No worries, I go slow at first.” You licked your lips “I definitely hope not”

He growled and hold his hand before you: “spit!” You did and he smeared it over his dick coating it as he slowly start to stroke.

You watched his member swell even more. His tip sensitive and red, screaming for attention. He moved faster his eyes sinfully staring at you. His breath quick.

You came to a stand, watching his face, his lips and eyes his throat, gulping to not lose this little game you play. His hand slows down.

“Have I told you to stop” you said wickedly.

His voice vibrates deep and lustfull through your body. “What made you think, your in control here?”

You hoped he would ask!

“May I remind you of your words ‘tell me to stop and I will’, I haven’t told you to stop, so keep going” a surprised smile formed his lips, which turned daring.

“Don’t push me to far sweetheart”

“Will you punish me than” you came closer to his lips!

“Possibly” he held his head a little higher to look down at you, mostly out of pride but also to intimidate you. Which clearly worked just fine.

“Oh boy I will push you definitely!” You breathlessly told, your faces inches away.

His strokes speeded up and quickly brought him on the edge. He held your stare, even in his position he radiated power and you gladly submitted to him. The way he looked shortly before cumming made you desperate for his touch, his dick, his lips. You want him more than anytime before!

“STOP, stop!” You nearly screamed the first word, although your faces are merely an inch away. His painful look faded slowly and his quickend breath regulated.

“Are you done?” He asked a little out of breath. “Done with what?” You shuffled, not sure where to focus on, his intense stare or his swollen lips.

“Done fucking around?” His hand grabbed you by your throat. You weren’t sure if it was out of passion or control, but you didn’t mind at all. You wanted him to take over completely.

You whimpered a yes and he kissed you hard before throwing you back on the bed.

“On your knees, ass up. That’s your punishment. You won’t see me fucking you or cum in that sweet little cunt! What a shame!” He grinned.

You turned your head to look at him: “that is a punishment I think I can handle!”

“Hmmm…” he watched your pussy and ass wiggling. “I go easy on you today! Now eyes to the front!” He positioned himself behind you guiding his dick to your entrance.

You bow down, arching your back and hands still tied above your head. You feel him gliding slowly in you opening and immediately start to gasp.

“Fuck yes…you are so fucking tight…Jesus Christ!” He watched his member gliding deeper and deeper!” Your eyes rolled back by the immense size ripping you open. “Stay with me honey, you are almost there!” He snickered behind his own uncontrolled breath. Just like you he is overwhelmed by that feeling, but he sure can hide it better!

____________________

[torsrighteye]

my family’s always like “you just went to school, your social battery’s fine”. like excuse me it’s honestly so draining to force myself to not go non verbal all day and mask for most of the day except for lunch because god knows i only come to school to see my friends and uuuhhhghhgh i just wanna sit in a nest of blankets, lay down and watch blues clues or sum shit but no i have to go back out and do one of my endless fucking extracurricular activities that most of them im forced into jesus i just don’t want this

[j-eryewrites]

The Blind Banker (III)

Part 12 of the Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221B Baker Street

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Previous | Next

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Jealous Sherlock, Descriptions of strangling and breaking and entering, Sherlock is Sherlock, and if you squint some sherlock x reader stuff.

__________

Sherlock dragged Y/N along and practically shoved her onto the bus. All the seats were full, so the two of them were left standing in the aisle. Y/N’s jaw clenched as she harshly breathed in and out. Sherlock’s ever-looming figure stood over her. His hand still held hers. He hadn’t let it go and by the strength of his grip, he wasn’t going to any time soon. 

“You’re mad,” Sherlock said.

She turned around to glare at him. “Of course, I’m mad.”

“Why?” His blue eyes peered at her. He did her a favour, so why wasn’t she taking it? 

“You left John there, Sherlock. Your friend!” She rolled her eyes. “Every time, I think you're getting better. That you are opening up, then you go and do something like that.”

“I got you out of there,” he hissed into her ear. 

“I don’t care. You–we left John behind.” She exclaimed.

“John can take care of himself. Besides, the case is more important.”

She scoffed. “I don’t care if John can take care of himself. Don’t you get it, Sherlock?”

She looked up at him with pleading eyes. He only stared back with not a clue as to why she was mad. 

She lowered her gaze. “I’m done for the day. I can’t deal with you anymore.”

The bus came to a halt and their bodies swayed back and forth. Y/N lurched forward and ripped her hand out of Sherlock’s grasp. She pushed her way out of the bus and Sherlock stood there. His eyes followed Y/N as she stepped out onto the street. His growing gold from the missing warmth of her hand. Before Sherlock could chase after her, the bus kicked up and moved on. Sherlock could only watch her as her figure disappeared from view. 

_______

Sherlock pinched his nose. He needed to stop thinking about Y/N and her outburst. He was already feeling the beginnings of a migraine which began when she slammed the door shut after she finally returned to 221B. Just thirty minutes after he did. It took everything in him to stop himself from running down to her and apologizing. What for? He still didn’t know, but that wasn’t important. The case was. He removed his hand and examined the photos in front of him. The same hand that held hers. The sound of Y/N walking around in her flat downstairs echoed in his mind. 

Stop it, He told himself. 

There it is again. The slamming of a door, but it’s not Y/N. Heavy and angry steps proceed up the stairs and get closer and closer to Sherlock. 

“You’ve been a while,” Sherlock said. His eyes stuck to the pictures. 

Sherlock heard John pace around the room. John’s shoulders are rigid and his fists are clenched. He released them before closing them shut again. John’s face contorted as he strangled the air in front of him, hoping to release some of his pent-up fury.

“Yeah, well, you know how it is. Custody sergeants don’t really like to be hurried, do they?” His voice was tight. “Just formalities: fingerprints, charge sheet; and I’ve gotta be in Magistrates Court on Tuesday.”

“What?” Sherlock absently said. He did not hear a word that had left John’s mouth. 

“Me, Sherlock, in court on Tuesday,” John yelled. “They’re givin’ me an ASBO!”

“Good. Fine.” Sherlock hissed back. John’s voice bore the same tone as Y/N’s when she scolded him. 

“You wanna tell your little pal he’s welcome to go and own up any time,” said John.

“This symbol: I still can’t place it.” Sherlock brought his finger up to point at one of the images. Then he turned around and walked towards John. The man was shrugging off his jacket until Sherlock lifted it back onto his shoulders. 

“No, I need you to go to the police station …” Sherlock stated. 

“Oy, oy, oy!” John warned. “Why doesn’t Y/N go?”

“... ask about the journalist.” Sherlock continued. 

“Oh, Jesus!” John grumbled. “Why can’t Y/N go, Sherlock?” 

“She’s…” Sherlock paused. “Having a moment.” 

“She got mad at you, didn’t she?” John asked. 

Sherlock’s jaw clenched, “She’s having a moment.” His long arm reached out to grasp his coat from the coat hanger. As he swung it on, he instructed John, “His personal effects will have been impounded. Get hold of his diary or something that will tell us his movements.” 

Sherlock started to descend the stairs. John followed him with a smug look on his face. Y/N had gotten mad at Sherlock, and by the way, his friend was acting. She was really pissed. 

“Gonna go and see Van Coon’s P.A. If we retrace their steps, somewhere they’ll coincide.” Without another word, Sherlock opened the door to 221B and walked out onto the street. Sherlock did not even bother shutting the door. 

John watched the door swing on its hinges. Back and forth, just as his mind was going between his options. He could do as Sherlock has asked, or he could check up on Y/N, letting her know he was alright.  John gently closed the door shut. Then he turned around to face the door to Y/N’s flat. He looked up to the ceiling to contemplate the thought swirling around in his head. Raising a hand, he brought it to the door and knocked. The sound rang within the hollow material of the door. 

“Y/N? It’s John.”

The sound of the television buzzed off and light footsteps crept closer to the door. With a creak, the door swung open, and John caught sight of Y/N. She stepped back, welcoming him in. 

“Sorry about earlier,” she mumbled. “If I had known you weren’t able to run, I’d…” 

John stopped her. “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

She sighed. “I know, but I can’t help but feel like I’m a part of it.” 

She looked toward the ground where Bjørn stood. He purred happily at the sight of John. The brown cat’s fluffy tail wagged as he stepped closer and closer to John. 

“Hello there, Bjørn.” John cooed. 

He reached down to pat the cat.  Bjørn’s meows grew louder, and John chuckled. 

“He must really like that.”

“I just think he likes you,” Y/N said. There was a short silence before Y/N blurted, “...want some chocolate?”

John looked at her wide-eyed. “Where’d that come from?” He laughed. 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Chocolate always makes me feel better. Thought you might like some to cheer you up.” 

“I'm fine, thanks.” He replied. 

She nodded and walked into her kitchen. Y/N pulled open a drawer and picked up a bar of chocolate. She peeled the wrapper and began to bite into it. She closed her eyes and quietly moaned at the taste. 

John rolled his eyes and chuckled. 

“What?!” She said, “It’s good chocolate.”

“It must be really good if you practically moaned.” He chuckled.

“Oh, shut up,” she said in a teasing manner.

A silence fell over them as John pet Bjørn and Y/N munched away on her chocolate. John’s attention was soon drawn to the window. He saw cars and cabs drive by and he remembered what Sherlock had asked of him. He sighed. John didn’t want to help Sherlock at the moment, but he knew that it was important. However, John knew he didn’t have to do it alone. 

“Y/N?” John asked. “Mind coming with me to Scotland Yard?”

She shook her head. “No, John. I told Sherlock that I was done with him for the day.”

“Then you’d like to know, Sherlock won’t be there. Just me, you, and Dimmock.”

Y/N was quiet as she contemplated the offer. 

“We can stop at Speedy’s on the way,” John added.

Y/N groaned. “Fine, you got me.”

Then she left the kitchen and walked into her room. Soon she emerged with her coat and shoes in hand. She sat down at one of the counter chairs and slipped on her shoes. She jumped up and threw on her coat. 

“Be back Bjørn!” She waved. 

John opened the door for her and the two of them set off. As the two of them walked down the sidewalk, John noticed an older woman across the street. She was wearing a black tracksuit and sunglasses. He nudged Y/N’s shoulder and she turned to look. The woman across the street lifted her phone and it seemed as if she was taking a picture of them. Y/N narrowed her eyes, but a truck zoomed by blocking her view. By the time the car had passed her sight, the woman was gone. 

“Strange,” Y/N muttered. 

John shook his head in agreement. 

“Well,” She softly elbowed him. “You promised me Speedy’s.” 

John chuckled and nudged her back. The two sparked up a conversation as they strolled to Speedy’s. They took their time meandering along the way. Sherlock could wait, but their growing friendship couldn’t. 

____SHERLOCK’s POV_____

I’m back at the bank. It’s notoriously too loud here. How could anyone get any work done? I briskly walked through the rows of desks. Each person behind them repeated the same monotonous actions: The phone rings, they pick it up, they talk, the call ends, and they type away at the computer. As I looked around, I found at least fifteen people who were faking it. Their eyes scanned the same lines over and over, before looking down at their phones. 

My eyes catch sight of the woman’s blonde hair. Van Coon’s assistant. 

I leaned over her desk. She stared at me. 

“How can I help you?” She asked.

“Van Coon’s schedule from the past week,” I replied, flashing a fake smile. Smiling makes people more receptive to doing things for others. 

She nodded her head and began to type on her computer. I glanced down at her name tag: Amanda. 

“He flew back from Dalian on Friday last week,” she said. “Looks like he had back-to-back meetings with the sales team.” 

My eyes narrow. “Can you print me up a copy?”

“Sure,” she said. With a few clicks of a button, the printing machine next to her whirred to life. 

“What about the day he died?” I inquired. “Can you tell me where he was?”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed at the screen, and she shook her head. “Sorry. Bit of a gap.” 

The printer beeped and Amanda twirled around. She reached for the paper and handed it over to me. It was warm. Just like the papers Y/N printed out for me. I shook away the thoughts. Now was not the time nor the place. To distract my mind from the course it was set on, I examined the calendar in front of me. 

The calendar showed no entries for Monday the 22nd. I looked away, frustrated. A gasp escaped Amanda’s voice and peered down at her. 

“I have all his receipts,” she realized. “Would you like those printed out as well?” 

I nodded my head and waved her on. 

_____THIRD_____

Y/N and John took their time as they arrived at Scotland Yard. They finally had the time to catch up without Sherlock’s ever listening and condescending ears. Y/N chattered about Jim and all the dates he had taken her on. John mentioned something to her about wanting to meet him and she said she’d see if she could set something up. She also told John about a new trick she taught Bjørn. John’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized someone could teach cats tricks like a dog, but then Y/N pulled out a video of Bjørn sitting and rolling around on command. 

As they walked through Scotland Yard, John could see the shoulders of officers tensed up. They peered behind the two of them. Afterwards, their shoulders relaxed upon seeing there was no consulting detective following behind. Dimmock was among those people. Dimmock stood up from his desk and moved towards the two of them. 

“What’s it now?” Dimmock asked. 

“We need the journalist’s diary,” John told him. Dimmock nodded and called one of the officers to bring him the box of Lukis’ things. 

The officer quickly retrieved the box and placed it on Dimmock’s desk. With a thwack, the lid was lifted up off the box and placed to the side. Dimmock reached his hands into the box and rummaged around. Y/N and John stood across from him watching as possession after possession was placed outside the box. Still no journal. 

“Your friend …,” Dimmock hesitantly said. He looked up at Y/N and John. 

John sighed. Whatever he was feeling, he wasn’t alone in the thought. “Listen: whatever you say, I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

Dimmock’s eyes flicked between the two of them. Y/N nodded her head urging him on. “... he’s an arrogant sod,” Dimmock finished. 

“Well, that was mild!” John laughed. “People say a lot worse than that.”

“I could say a lot worse than that,” grumbled Y/N. She crossed her arms over her torso. 

Dimmock triumphantly cheered as his hand emerged from the box with a brown journal. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The journalist’s diary?” 

John nodded and took the journal from Dimmock’s hand. The pages are thick and well-inked. Page after page filled to the brim with scribbles of the deceased Journalist. Y/N leaned over and pointed toward a page that had been dog tagged. John opened it up and came to find that it was a boarding pass from Da Lian DLC [DaLian Zhoushuizi International Airport] to London LHR [London Heathrow Airport] on Zhuang Airlines.

“Might want to snap a picture, Y/N,” John advised. 

She looked down at her pockets and pulled out her phone. There was a flash and a photo had been taken. Y/N placed the phone back into her pocket. She looked back up at John, who flipped through the pages again. 

Maybe there was something in here that would be of use to Sherlock, he thought. 

____SHERLOCK’s POV______

I had instructed Amanda to lay out Van Coon’s receipts on her desk. I leaned over them taking my time to pay close attention to the date and location on the receipts. Amanda sat next to me. Her leg bobbed up and down in the most annoying manner. 

“What kind of a boss was he, Amanda? Appreciative?” I said while I continued to look at the receipts. Amanda’s leg had stopped moving. I smiled. 

“Um, no. That’s not a word I’d use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag,” She replied. 

I sighed. The font on the receipts is too small for even my eyes to see clearly. I kneeled down on the floor to allow myself easier access to them. Then I took my leather gloves off. In the corner of my eye, I saw a luxury hand lotion at the back of the desk. My eyes narrowed. 

“He bought that for you, didn’t he?” I asked. 

Amanda stopped fiddling with a green pin in her hair. She looked at me and her face flushed. I rolled my eyes and continued to shuffle through the receipts. My hands hovered over a particular receipt. I hastily picked it up and held it close. It was a receipt from a licensed taxi. Dated the day he died. 

“Look at this one. Got a taxi from home on the day he died. Eighteen pounds fifty,” I said. 

Amanda’s eyes pursed in thought. “That would get him to the office,” She noted. 

“Not rush hour; check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as …” I ran through the map of London in my mind. 

“The West End. I remember him saying,” Amanda blurted. 

“Underground. Printed at one in Piccadilly,” I specified holding out the receipt for her to see.

“So, he got a Tube back to the office. Why would he get a taxi into town and then the Tube back?” She pondered. 

I glanced back over the other receipts. “Because he was delivering something heavy. Didn’t want to lug a package up the escalator,” I mentioned. 

“Delivering?” 

“To somewhere near Piccadilly Station,” I clarified.  There was something here in the pile of receipts. My eyes widened and picked up another receipt. “Dropped the package, delivered it, and then stopped on his way. He got peckish.”

I quickly thanked Amanda as I pocketed the two receipts and made my exit from the bank. I hailed a cab and instructed it to take me to the restaurant Van Coon had stopped by. The cab was taking longer than it should have. Rush hour did not start for another…hour, I thought. I took in an impatient breath. My mind decided to take a liberty of its own, showing me, again, the last encounter I had with Y/N. My jaw clenched. Despite being the world’s only consulting detective, I could not find the source of her anger. The anger and the woman it came from remained a mystery in my mind. My eyes narrowed. I’d have to ask John. He’d know. 

“Here,” The cab driver said. He turned around in his seat and reached out his hand. I paid him and stepped out onto the street. I pulled out the receipt and examined it one more time. 

“So, you bought your lunch from here en route to the station, but where were you headed from? Where did the taxi drop you off...?”

I began to walk around in all different directions. My eyes cast above looking for something, some clue. I feel a thud against my back. I bounce off of the figure who just crashed into me, and I turn around to look at the culprit. It’s John. In his hands, he held the journal I had asked him to get. 

“Sherlock?” John said. 

I grunted in reply. A swish of fabric behind John caught my attention. Slowly, my eyes peered behind him and saw Y/N. Her eyes casted down, avoiding my gaze. 

____THIRD______

“Right. Of course, you’re here.” John mumbled. 

Sherlock tore his gaze away from Y/N. “Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died – whatever was hidden inside that case. I’ve managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information …”

“Sherlock …,” John said, looking between Y/N and his friend. 

“… credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, then he came here,” Sherlock continued. 

“Sherlock …,” John warned. 

“Somewhere in this street; somewhere near. I don’t know where, but …”

“That shop over there,” pointed out Y/N. 

For a moment, Sherlock’s face showed signs of surprise before forcefully turning towards the shop across the street. 

“How can you tell?” He pondered. 

“Lukis’ diary,” John replied. He lifted up the journal for Sherlock to see. “He was here too. He wrote down the address.”

“Oh,” was all Sherlock could muster. 

The three of them stood on the busy street. Passerbys moved around them as if they were a fork in the road. John looked back and forth between his friends. Y/N’s gaze was off in the distance. She still refused to look at Sherlock. 

“Y/N,” Sherlock began but he was silenced when she pushed through the crowd to cross the street. John shrugged at Sherlock before following his friend. Sherlock lingered there for a moment before chasing after them. 

________

The ever-apparent colour of red. Red as far as the eye could see. Red lanterns above, red decorations in the doors and windows, red doors, and even some red markings on the ground below them. Amongst the red, Sherlock’s eyes could catch glimpses of gold. It shimmered in the sunlight. 

The smells of freshly steamed rice and pork buns wafted through the air. Y/N’s stomach began to grumble. She’d have to make a stop to get some. She’d also gladly use the excuse to avoid Sherlock. She was determined for him to come to her this time. 

Preferably not by being carried out her front door swung over Sherlock’s shoulders, She thought. 

The three of them had reached the stop that was mentioned in Lukis’ journal. The Lucky Cat it was called. Y/N was the first to enter the tourist trap of a shop. The colour red also made an appearance as several shelves were the same vibrant red that could be found along the streets of Chinatown. Besides the apparent colour of red, there were cats. The store was filled to the brim with decorative cats sitting on their hind legs. One of their paws was high in the air swinging up and down. Their smiles made John uneasy. The shopkeeper came out from the back room and smiled at Y/N. 

”你好,” Y/N greeted. 

The shopkeeper smiled and complimented her Chinese. Sherlock and John both peered over at Y/N as she struck up a friendly conversation with the shopkeeper. Sherlock and John looked at each other, amazed at the hidden ability Y/N had. Y/N waved to the woman and turned back to her friends. 

“What?” She asked. 

“Nothing,” John replied. He then looked over her shoulder and greeted the shopkeeper himself. “Hello.”

The shopkeeper’s smile faded. “You want a lucky cat?”

“No, thanks. No.” John replied. 

“Ten pounds. Ten pounds!” The shopkeeper insisted. 

“No,” John replied. He began to profusely shake his hands. Y/N giggled at the interaction. John looked at her with wide eyes. “Mind helping me out Y/N?”

The shopkeeper took one look between John and Y/N. ``I think your wife will like it!” The Shopkeeper winked. 

John’s face grew red. “No, thank you,” He replied. 

Sherlock tensed behind him. His long finger gripped the clay statue tighter. John quickly turned away from the shopkeeper and picked up the nearest thing he could find. It was a small white tea cup. Y/N had come up next to John. She was still giggling. 

John sighed and gave her a side-eye. 

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t funny,” She muttered to him. She leaned into him.  “Come on hubby,” she teased.  

John rolled his eyes. “Screw off, Y/N.” 

He picked up another tea cup and turned it around. Underneath was a bright red price tag. On it were the same symbols that were covering their mirror back at home. 

John’s eyes widened. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s ear twitched at his name and he placed the statue back where he found it. He approached John, coming up behind Y/N so that her back was against his chest. She tensed at the sudden sensation of Sherlock behind her. Then Sherlock reached over her shoulder to pick up a teacup. 

“The label there,” John pointed. 

“Yes, I see it,” Sherlock said.

“Exactly the same as the cypher,” John continued. He turned to Y/N and had to take a second glance. Sherlock stood so close, John could swear the two of them had merged into one person. When he finally differentiated the two, John saw that her jaw was squeezed tight and her lips were pressed into a thin line. A shadow fell over her figure. John could practically see the anger seething from her body. Her eyes looked as if they were plotting Sherlock’s murder in great detail. 

“Y/N,” John blurted. The woman turned to him. The darkness faded from her eyes as she looked at him. 

“What?” Y/N asked. She lifted her foot slightly before bringing it down onto Sherlock’s foot. Her heel grinding into Sherlock’s toes. John caught a wince in his friend’s face before he stepped back from Y/N. 

John awkwardly cleared his throat. “What do these symbols mean?” He lifted the cup to her and she peered at them. 

She took it from his hands and ran a finger over the price tag. “This is the number 15,” She said. “It’s from the Hangzhou number system.”

Sherlock lifted his head and began to smile. The case was finally starting to come together. 

“These days, only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank and at the library,” Sherlock noted. He walked across the shop to pick up the statue he had been looking at earlier. Flipping it over he looked at the price tag. “Numbers are written in an ancient Chinese dialect.”

“What we thought was the artist’s tag – it’s the number fifteen,” John commented. 

Sherlock walked back over to John and Y/N, making sure to stay well without the woman’s comfort zone. “And the blindfold – the horizontal line?” He asked her. “That was a number as well.” 

Y/N thought back to the office and her original thoughts. “It’s the number one.” She blurted. 

“The Chinese number one,” Sherlock smiled. Y/N looked back down at the ground and his smile fell. 

“We’ve found it!” John cheered. His voice got quieter as he noticed the tension between Y/N and Sherlock had not been solved. 

Sherlock sighed in defeat before walking out of the store. John waited for Y/N, before walking out after Sherlock. The two of them step outside the door and see the same woman from before. She was still wearing the sunglasses from before. Slowly the woman raised her phone at them. Y/N stepped forward to get a better look but John pulled her back before a passerby knocked into her. 

“Careful there, Y/N,” John said. 

Y/N thanked him and looked back to where the woman stood. She was gone. Y/N frowned. John looked ahead at Sherlock who was pacing down the street. 

“Come on, Y/N.” He tugged at her jacket and the two of them set off after Sherlock. 

__________

The three of them were now sitting at the restaurant across from The Lucky Cat. John and Sherlock sat at a table together, and Y/N found an empty table which she took for herself. As far away as she could get from Sherlock, while still being able to see them and the shop. 

Sherlock glared at the empty seat between him and John before he yanked a napkin off the table. Pulling out a pen he wrote profusely on the surface. From what John could see, Sherlock was attempting to translate the number system. 

“What did you do? I’ve never seen her this furious with you,” John said. 

Sherlock scoffed before glancing over his shoulder to look at the woman of the hour. 

She sat in her seat and happily ate away at some dumplings. Occasionally, she’d chat with the waiter or a fellow restaurant guest. Most of which were fawning over her ability to commune in Mandarin. 

“Sherlock,” John grunted.

“I don’t know!” He yelled. A few of the guests around them turn their heads at Sherlock’s outbreak. 

“I don’t know. We were on the bus and she got mad at me for…” Sherlock’s eyes widened as he spoke. “I left you.” 

John rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “You just now realized that. Really, Sherlock?!” John began to laugh. It started light, then grew deeper and louder. “World’s only consulting detective and you just now noticed you left me behind?”

Sherlock stared blankly at John until his laughter died down. 

“Alright,” John said, regaining his composure. “Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium. What did they see?” 

“It’s not what they saw; it’s what they both brought back in those suitcases,” Sherlock stated. 

“And you don’t mean duty-free,” John noted. 

A waitress appeared behind Sherlock, holding a steaming plate of dumplings. She carried it over to Y/N’s table. The woman was surprised and shook her hands. The waitress leaned down and whispered in her ear before pointing over to John. John refocused his gaze. The waitress was pointing at Sherlock. Y/N looked up. Her eyes landed on Sherlock, and then she spoke to the waitress.

It wasn’t long before that same waitress approached John’s table. She placed the plate of dumplings in front of Sherlock. 

“She doesn’t want them.” The waitress stated. She shook her head in disappointment and walked off. 

John gasped. He looked from the food to Sherlock. Then his eyes moved from Sherlock to Y/N. He laughed. “Good luck, Sherlock. Doubt she’ll forgive you anytime soon.” 

Sherlock’s grip on his pen tightened. “You try. I’m sure she’ll talk to you. You’re her husband after all,” he sneered. 

John leaned in close to Sherlock. “Are you…jealous?” The great Sherlock Holmes, jealous of John Watson? What a day this was turning out to be. 

“Of course not.” Sherlock spat a little too quickly. 

John’s eyes narrowed on his friend, looking him up and down. He chuckled lightly to himself. “She’ll forgive you. You just have to show her you mean it.” John replied. “Just don’t throw her over your shoulder again.” 

Sherlock nodded his head taking in John’s words. “Enough about Y/N. Think about what Sebastian told us; about Van Coon – about how he stayed afloat in the market.”

“Lost five million …” John began. 

“... made it back in a week.” Sherlock finished. “That’s how he made such easy money.”

“He was a smuggler!” John exclaimed.

The dumplings meant for Y/N were no longer steaming. John picks up his fork and sticks it in the golden exterior before plopping it in his mouth. 

“A guy like him – it would have been perfect. Businessman...making frequent trips to Asia. And Lukis was the same. A journalist writing about China. Both of them smuggled stuff out, and the Lucky Cat was their drop-off.” Sherlock said. 

“But why did they die? I mean, it doesn’t make sense. If they both turn up at the shop and deliver the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after they’d finished the job?” John questioned. 

Sherlock leaned back in his chair. His eyes pursed in thought as if he was a cat going into stalk mode. 

“What if one of them was light-fingered?” He mumbled.

“What d’you mean?” John asked mid-bite. 

“Stole something; something from the hoard.” 

John nodded his head following Sherlock's gist. “And the killer doesn’t know which of them took it, so he threatens them both. Right.”

Sherlock looked across the street. His gaze flew up and then back down. John watched as his blue eyes subtly darted in Y/N’s direction before returning to the table. 

“Remind me ...when was the last time that it rained?” Sherlock asked. Without waiting for John to reply, Sherlock stood up from his seat and excused himself from the restaurant. John sighed. He looked at the dumplings and Sherlock’s retreating figure. He looks at Y/N, who nods in understanding. Dutifully, the two of them leave the restaurant and follow after Sherlock. 

______

Y/N sighed as she trudged back over to The Lucky Cat. Sherlock sat crouched over a package in front of someone’s apartment to the right of the store. He was running his hands over the wet plastic surface and the exposed yellow pages. 

“Sherlock, what are you doing,” heaved Y/N. “John and I were enjoying a perfectly good dum…”

“It’s been here since Monday,” Sherlock stated, cutting Y/N off. 

He straightened up and stared at the woman. “You can go back to your dumplings. John and I have no use for you anymore.” 

Y/N scoffed. “Right, 'cause that’s why I couldn’t leave for a date with my boyfriend.” 

Sherlock grimaced. “You said you were done with me for the day. So am I.” 

“Fine. I’m leaving.” With a turn of her heel, she began to march away. Sherlock rolled his eyes and caught her wrist, pulling her back. 

“I thought you said you have no use for me.” She said glaring at his hand wrapped around her wrist. 

Y/N looked towards John. “Want to help me out here?”

He just shook his head. 

“Alright!” Sherlock was exasperated. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” She urged. 

“What?” 

“What are you sorry for?” 

“I…” Sherlock glanced at John for some help. “I don’t know.”

“Sherlock the great Holmes doesn’t know,” She exclaimed sarcastically. Sherlock just looked at her with pleading eyes. Y/N’s jaw clenched as she looked to the side. “Fine. You still owe me an actual apology, the same goes for John.” 

Sherlock reluctantly released her wrist, still scared she’d run the minute he’d let go. When she stood her ground, he smiled to himself before buzzing the doorbell to the apartment they stood at. 

Ring. There was no answer. Ring. Sherlock buzzed the bell again. There was no sound. No movement behind the door. Nothing. 

“No one’s been in that flat for at least three days,” confidently stated Sherlock.

“Could’ve gone on holiday,” John suggested. That was a normal thing people did, something Sherlock wasn’t particularly fond of. 

“D’you leave your windows open when you go on holiday?” Sherlock asked. Y/N shook her head. 

Then Sherlock darted to the side and entered an alleyway. He was approaching the back of the building. Trash and litter were scattered all over the street. Most of it was brushed to the sides, making it easier for the three of them to navigate through. 

Sherlock came to a halt and looked up. Above him was a silver-tinted metal fire escape. There were small signs of rust in the corners where the steps met the sides of the ladder. Sherlock looked behind him and backed up like a runner preparing for a head start. Then he dashed forward, jumped up, and reached the ladder, successfully yanking it down to the ground. He begins to climb the ladder, leaving John and Y/N behind, still amazed as to how he had the agility to pull off such an act. 

John stepped forward to grab onto the ladder as Sherlock stepped inside the apartment. The ladder shot out and sprang back up into place. It now towered over John and Y/N just out of reach. 

“Sherlock!” John yelled. He turned to Y/N, “I’m heading to the front, hopefully, this time he’ll let us in.”

Y/N nodded before looking back up at the ladder. She was sure she could reach it, however, she wasn’t as tall as Sherlock, so she’d really have to jump. 

“I’m going to see if I can get the ladder back down,” Y/N explained. “If not I’ll meet you at the front.” 

John looked at his friend and then at the ladder. “You can try,” He murmured before leaving Y/N in the alley. 

Like Sherlock, Y/N looked behind herself. She walked back and stood a few feet farther than where Sherlock began. She took a deep breath and glanced up at the ladder. There was a part of her determined to do anything Sherlock could do, and then there was another part that told her she’d fall flat on the ground. Y/N looked around one last time. If she did fall, at least there wouldn’t be any spectators. 

Then, she darted towards the latter, jumping at the last second. Her arms reached their full extent. Her hand came in contact with the bottom step of the ladder. Upon feeling the cold wet surface, she closed her hands and yanked down the ladder with as much force as she could muster. 

When the ladder hit the ground with a thud, she cheered aloud and called out to John, but he was too far away to hear her. Y/N shrugged and began to climb up the steps and into the apartment after Sherlock. 

_______

Sherlock successfully climbed through the window and plopped down into the kitchen. It was well-kept. Dishes were put away. As Sherlock stepped further into the room, his ears processed a thud, quickly shot his hand out to grasp the falling vase before it hit the floor. After carefully putting it back down, Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. There was a dark spot on the rug exactly where the vase would have fallen. His eyes widened. 

“Someone else has been here!” He called out the window. His eyes were still glued to the wet spot on the carpet. 

Then, Sherlock trod carefully around the room. His eyes bounced off the walls like a ball, as he muttered to himself. “Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase just like I did.”

His feet took him into the kitchen, where he found the washing machine. The door hung slightly ajar and was filled to the brim with clothing. Sherlock grabbed an article of clothing before giving it a sniff. He crinkled his nose and plopped the shirt back into the machine. 

There was a buzzing from downstairs. The doorbell, Sherlock noted. 

“D’you think maybe you could let me in this time?!’ John shouted from outside. His voice sounded muffled through the walls. 

Sherlock ignored his friend’s request as he tip-toed around the rest of the room. 

Outside the flat, John sighed. He took notice of Y/N’s absence. If she did find a way in, she’d let him in, John thought. However, until then, he’d keep yelling at Sherlock. John lowered his head to the letter slot in the door, creaked open the tiny entrance, and in his loudest voice called out to Sherlock. 

“Can you not keep doing this, please?” John pleaded.

Sherlock was now sifting through the fridge. His eyes land on a pint of milk. He took it out, gave it a sniff, and coughed from the pungent smell before slamming it back into the fridge. 

“I’m not the first!” He called out to John again. 

“What?” Y/N asked. 

Sherlock jumped out of his skin. Her voice so quietly sneaked up behind him. He whipped his head around to find her sitting on the window ledge. She was still trying to swing one of her legs into the room. Sherlock sighed in relief. 

“Somebody’s been in here before me.” He repeated. He watched as her face squinted in determination, finally entering the apartment. She was out of breath. Her face was red from the exercise. She stepped forward and Sherlock’s eyes darted to the vase. “Watch out for…” It was too late. The vase fell to the floor. “The vase.” 

Y/N winced at the noise. “Sorry.” She whispered to him. 

“What are you saying?!” John yelled again. The two of them couldn’t hear him. 

As Y/N placed the vase back onto the table, Sherlock retrieved a magnifier from his pocket examining a footprint he noticed on the floor. The intruder had left a scuff mark and from the size of it, Sherlock determined it belong to a size eight foot. 

Outside on the street, John groaned his head thudded against the door. With the noise of the street, he couldn’t make out anything Sherlock had said. John peaked around the corner of the building and found Y/N to be missing. She was inside, he thought. John, rejuvenated with energy began to push at the doorbell. 

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. 

“That’ll be John,” muttered Y/N. She pushed by Sherlock and walked through the beaded curtain. Sherlock followed her. 

“Where are the stairs?” She whispered to herself as she walked back through the apartment. 

Sherlock had occupied himself with other footprints he had found on the floor. His steps followed closely to where the intruder had stepped. 

“Small, but ... athletic,” Sherlock murmured. He passes by a table and sees a framed photo. He straightened up and peered down at the photo. 

There were two small children- a young boy and a girl. They sat next to each other, smiles as wide as their small faces would go. Sherlock turned the photo to the light and caught a glimpse of a handprint. It was placed over the young girl in the photo. 

“Small, strong hands,” Sherlock noted. 

“Sherlock,” Y/N called. “Where are the stairs? I going to go let John inside.”

“Just to the left of the bedroom,” he said. Y/N nodded and left to go and let John inside. 

Sherlock glanced around the room one last time. His eyes landed on the open window in which he came through. 

“Our acrobat,” Sherlock frowned. “But why didn’t he close the window when he left ...?” 

Sherlock stopped. He could hear Y/N’s steps retreating down the stairs. Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Oh, stupid. Stupid. Obvious. He’s still here!” He exclaimed.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a folding screen. It was ornately decorated and had a few stray clothing items hung over it. It stood next to the bed in the bedroom. Sherlock’s eyes never left the screen as he pocketed his magnifying glass and stalked toward the screen. He reached out his right hand bringing it closer and closer to the screen. His fingers met wood and he yanked it back. He pursed his lips at the sight of two stuffed animals. They stared directly into his eyes.

Suddenly, there was a flash of white and Sherlock could no longer breathe. The intruder had collided with a long white scarf around Sherlock’s neck, squeezing it tightly. Sherlock fumbled as he tried to fight his opponent. The two of them backed into the wall.  

____

Y/N had found the stairs with ease and was making her way down, step-by-step. She had heard Sherlock mutter something as she walked down but ignored it. John heard her steps down the stairs. 

“Any time you want to include me,” John said. 

“Coming,” She sang as she reached for the lock. 

“Y/N!” John cheered. He heard one lock release. 

As Y/N began to unlock the second lock on the door, she heard a thud from above. Then more sounds. 

Her eyes widened. 

“Sherlock!” Y/N squeaked. She only heard more muffled banging. 

“Y/N?” John questioned. “What’s wrong?”

Immediately she ran back up the stairs. John only heard her vacating footsteps and groaned again. 

“Perfect. Left again,” John grumbled to himself.  He waved his hands in a mocking manner, his voice impersonating Sherlock’s. “No, I’m Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no one else can compete with ...”

John stormed to the letterbox and flipped it open.  “... my MASSIVE INTELLECT!”

____

Sherlock’s vision was dimming as his lungs fought for air. His hands fell just short of the attacker behind him. His attacker swung him to the side, allowing Sherlock to see a glimpse of Y/N. Her eyes widened at the scene in front of her. 

Sherlock couldn’t voice any words, but he tried to tell her to stay back. He couldn’t let her get hurt. He had to protect her. He tried to hit his attacker, but he had no more strength. His eyes went dark, and he fell limp. 

The attacker released his hold on the scarf and took a step toward Y/N. Her back hit the wall behind her. Her body sank to the floor. Every inch of her skin trembled. In the distance, there was another buzz of the doorbell. The masked intruder stopped his approach and then darted towards the window. He leapt out and disappeared amongst the rooftops of Chinatown.

Y/N ran to the window and shut it with a slam. She tried to take in a deep breath but failed as soon as she remembered Sherlock. She ran over to Sherlock’s unconscious body and fell beside him. Her hands shook him awake. 

“Sherlock!” She cried. 

Sherlock’s lungs welcomed the air and his eyes regained focus and that’s when he saw her. Y/N now hovered over him. Her hands held his cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted and shaking. Her eyes held fear in them. She was afraid. 

His eyes softened at the sight of her. She’s okay, thought Sherlock. He tried to raise a hand to hold her but his body was too weak. His muscles now remembered what it was like to have a constant flow of oxygen. 

John buzzed the doorbell again. 

Suddenly, a tightness formed in the back of Sherlock’s throat. He quickly sat up and coughed. He tugged at the scarf from around his neck and cast it to the side. He tried to stand up but a wave of dizziness hit him. His arms clasped onto the nearest thing in order to steady himself. He felt a warmth cover his hand. He looked down and saw that he was holding onto Y/N. 

“Sherlock?” Y/N’s voice faltered. “Are you alright?”

He nodded his head. His voice still comes back to him. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” Sherlock wheezed. He brought a hand to his chest. His blue eyes captured the sight of Y/N once again. “Don’t tell John.”

“But he’s a doctor, you should have him make sure you’re alright,” Y/N argued. 

“No. I don’t need John or anyone to worry over me. I’m fine.” 

___

Downstairs, John looked at his watch in annoyance. He shook his head and looked around. He very well considered leaving Sherlock and Y/N to their own devices. 

A few moments later, the front door swings open. John rolled his eyes in an exasperated expression. He glared at Sherlock. 

“The, uh, milk’s gone off and the washing’s starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago,” Sherlock croaked. 

John widened his eyes at his friend’s voice. It sounded like he was hit with a bad case of the flu and hung over from a night on the town. 

“Somebody?” John asked. He looked at Y/N who appeared behind Sherlock. His eyes made a motion as if he was asking what happened with Sherlock. 

Y/N acknowledged John but returned her gaze to Sherlock. 

John pursed his lips. Y/N was now looking at Sherlock. John looked closer at the two of them. He noticed how Y/N hovered close behind Sherlock. John concluded that the two of them made up in some way. His brown eyes trailed over Sherlock who was now adjusting the collar of his shirt. There were pink and red markings all over Sherlock’s neck.

“Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her,” Sherlock said. His hoarse voice broke John’s train of thought. 

Sherlock looked down at his feet and caught sight of something new. A white envelope. 

“But how, exactly?” John questioned. 

Sherlock picked up the envelope and turned it around. It read: 

___

SOO LIN, 

Please ring me and tell me you’re OK.

 Andy

NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES MUSEUM

____

Sherlock shoved the envelope in John’s hands. “Maybe we could start with this.” He coughed. 

“You’ve gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?” John wondered. 

“I’m fine,” Sherlock muttered. 

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what the marks on your neck are telling me,” John mentioned.

Y/N's face went slack and Sherlock’s eyes pinched shut. John shot accusatory Y/N and Sherlock a look. 

Y/N blurted, “John, it’s not like that. Sherlock was st…”

“Y/N” Sherlock coughed. “Don’t.”

She lowered her eyes to the ground. 

“I’m fine, John,” Sherlock repeated. His voice slowly regained its composure. 

John looked between his friends one more time. There was something going on and he was determined to figure it out. John looked down at the envelope in his hands. He’d have to wait for answers, but until then, it appeared to John that the three of them would have to visit the Museum again. This time, John intended to not be left behind and caught red-handed.

____

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The Veterinarian - Short Story

To celebrate Test Run going into early access, I'd like to share last month's short story with you folks. I'm also just really excited to share it in general. Here's how Doc met one of the other cast members... Word count: 1.6k

It was a warm Tuesday evening in mid-May, the light pushing its way in through the window was starting to wane, and a young veterinarian was manning the desk at his newly founded medical practice. A powder blue typewriter sat in front of him, its keys rhythmically striking the page as he typed. His handwriting was practically illegible- it wasn't something you needed to learn in order to set a broken leg or inject into a vein. And a photocopier was too expensive anyway. So his funding requests (charity requests, really) would have to be copied by hand, letter by letter, ten or twenty or fifty times.

Today was quiet- even with a price tag of free, not many people were aware of his practice. Sometimes there would be days of silence, with no patients in sight. But the monotony of the rapid thunks against paper was broken by a creaking sound on the other side of the room. The front door. Its hinges were rusty. This place used to be a butcher's shop before the raids drove it out of business. Nothing had been replaced, just scrubbed to within an inch of its life.

Emil's eyes flicked up from his work to watch the approach. The door swung slowly open, and a young man hobbled in from the warm wind outside. He cut an interesting figure- wobbling slightly on one leg, his body long and sinewy, his face mostly hidden by a shock of blonde hair. There was lipstick smeared down his chin. His outfit was mostly obscured by a rough-spun shawl draped over his shoulders, but under it Emil could see a hint of a red slip and fishnet stockings. The fact that he was wearing heels made his unsteady gait even worse.

"I'm afraid I'm a little worse for wear, doc," the man muttered. There was a nervous laughter under it all, like he couldn't contain his irreverence for even a moment. "You don't charge, right? I can't really afford it."

Standing up from his chair, Emil approached the limping man. His voice was tinged with concern. "What happened?"

"You should see how the other guy looks," the guy muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm... not doing so hot. I came here cause Tomas said you deal with people like us."

It had only been a few months, but the people had already started to blend out into stories. Remembering a single name like that would be like remembering a single letter of a novella. Context clues would be necessary. "People like who?" He rested a hand on the man's back to start leading him to one of the cots.

"Queers." Oh. The word coming from this man's stained lips was weighed down with baggage that Emil could sense but not understand. "Boys who wear dresses."

The young man allowed himself to be led over to the cot. His leg was certainly broken, though not badly. He had bruises forming on his arms and upper thighs, and one on the left side of his face. Not in any recognizable pattern, at least not without further inspection. He must have been beaten, kicked, maybe by a group. "What's your name?"

There was a pause before he responded. "Yvette." It was hard to tell if it was fake, or if he simply used enough of them that he had to pick which to use. Probably the last one.

As he lowered himself onto the bed, Yvette inhaled sharply and gripped the metal frame with an unsteady hand. "Jesus, doc, I think it's broken..."

"I think so too." Emil kneeled down next to him, his hands tentatively grazing against the fishnets. "I'll need you to remove the stockings, though. With minimal movement. I need to splint it so it will heal correctly."

"Oh my," he muttered, a smile flickering across his lips. The opportunity to jeer at Emil was overriding whatever pain he was in. Normally, I'd expect men to take me to dinner first! Or pay me, at least."

Emil clenched his jaw. He wasn't going to let this phase him. Not even as his cheeks flushed and he averted his eyes. He had to make this interaction normal at all costs. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened to you?"

"Sometimes when a guy sees a pretty girl, he just can't help but drag him into an alley and beat him half to death. Hormones." He said it with such nonchalance. This wasn't unexpected for him.

What was unexpected was the way Yvette hiked up his dress enough to start peeling the fishnets down his thighs. Not enough to be explicit, but a clear invitation. Look, if you'd like. Emil was sure to avert his eyes after catching a glimpse of red lace.

"I'll just be a moment... I need to fetch a splint." Standing up bolt straight, Emil rushed back to his office. Yes, that was where he kept most of his medical supplies. It was also an enclosed space away from this patient. And he needed that right now, if only for a moment.

Bracing his arm against the wall, he took a deep breath. His eyes caught his face in the mirror hanging on the wall. His cheeks and softly freckled nose were flushed, and a bit of sweat was accumulating on his brow. He'd been running this clinic for only a short while, and he felt utterly unprepared to deal with even the most remotely difficult of patients.

A deep breath. He ran his fingers through his crop of dark hair. Unphased. He was going to be unphased.

After collecting his supplies (and himself), Emil stepped back out into the clinic. The patient was reclining on his cot, the pain still evident but not nearly writhing in it like a lot of folks would be. Maybe on opiates? Such a thing wouldn't be uncommon with these lower-city genderfuck types. Take an upper to party, a downer to relax after all that partying, and another upper to keep from falling asleep... and on. Or maybe he was just really good at hiding it.

"You're lucky, the fracture is quite minimal. You'll be up on your feet again in just a few days." Emil quickly set to work wrapping tight cloth bandages around Yvette's leg, starting right at the ankle and moving upwards. "Until then, you shouldn't put too much weight on it or do any strenuous exercise."

"That's horrible," Yvette complained with a hint of a grin. "However will I live without my daily hikes? What about the weightlifting contest on Monday?" Lying there, half propped up on his arms, swimming in his shawl, he looked like a model out of a fancy old painting. Something you'd see on auction in one of those upscale shops in The Heights.

Soon, Emil had finished applying the splint. He ran his fingers over the handiwork, feeling the shape of Yvette's calf under his fingertips. And then he stood up. "That should heal well. I'm afraid there's very little I can do for the bruises, but you don't seem to have any other fractures."

"Thank you so much, doc." He overpronounced every word, holding out a dainty hand with chipped red nail polish. Beckoning. "Come here, let me thank you properly."

Reluctantly, Emil stepped closer. Close enough for Yvette to grab his wrist and pull him in all at once. In half a second he was leaning down with his hands planted on the frame and the cot, his face next to the patient's. The young man's lips grazed his cheek, leaving a delicate kiss. In a hushed tone he muttered, "I wish there was something I could do to repay you for helping me out like this..."

"I don't accept payment for my services." The flush was coming back to Emil's cheeks. He was trying desperately to stay professional.

Yvette's lips got even closer to Emil's ear as he muttered, "How about if you ever need my services, they're free of charge?"

Emil didn't need to question what kind of services he meant. He straightened up, his face hot. "If you need a place to stay while that leg heals... my beds are open until a higher-priority patient needs them." Both of them glanced around the room in unison, remembering that they were completely alone, with two other cots unoccupied.

The next few days were quiet as well. The practice was new, after all. There were periods of relative peace, and periods of intense business. In truth, Emil had hoped it would get busy once Yvette showed up. It didn't.

He wasn't quiet, either. They spoke about his concerns, about how money was tight and clients weren't going to be interested in him for weeks until the bruising got better. They spoke about the city they'd grown up in, how different everything was from their youth. They spoke about work, with Emil trying his hardest to pretend he wasn't interested in this particular topic. And they spoke about each other's bodies, a week or so later, lying next to each other in the warm embrace of Emil's bed.

Running his fingertips along Yvette's side, feeling the bone just under the skin of his hip, Emil muttered, "I don't know how you convinced me to do that. It should go without saying, but sleeping with a patient isn't very professional."

"It was inevitable," Yvette teased. "I always get what I want, doc."

"So what do you want now?"

Yvette paused for a moment, his eyes fluttering shut. His hair was splayed out on the pillow, his makeup still smudged and never removed. "Right now, I want a glass of wine, a massage, and a nice relaxing bubble bath. In the future... I'd like to be a friend, not a patient."

Sighing and letting himself sink down into the mattress, Emil muttered, "I guess if you always get what you want..."

[sterlingarcher23]

- ElMax goes "Back to the future" -

"When this baby hits 88 miles per hour you're gonna see some serious shit."

Bear with me, people, this is a going to be a wild ride with a lot of details the Duffers used and placed into the show. - Same is true for example for the Back to the future franchise itself that made references and placed props similar to what the Duffers do. Example: the clock's hands in BttF 3 are at 8 minutes and 8 o'clock: 88 mph.

It's not meant literally but in terms of reference, pointing to scenes showing the future, having to do with temporal displacement etc. - And keep in mind that ElMax is constantly Blue and Yellow since Hopper adopted El due to the yellow watch (Max) and blue hair tie (El):

The shopping scene, disappearing and reappearing in front of a JC Penney: That's "Back to the Future"

They made a reference to the Back to the future scene by showing us the whole thing from left to right, saying: What we see there IS meant to be the future because of the JC Penney brand ; its the same scene but mirrored.

Now, the shopping scene gives the complete process:

Max blind/ability of vision taken(puts glasses on), gets killed (person covering her), revived (looking at El) and her mind disappears... Outatime ... El disappears next (since she isn't killed by someone there's no need to put someone there and it wouldn't work too at that point from a filming perspective). Then Max reappears: she wakes up from the coma and is at this point linked to El: Max's vision is still gone but she has a substitute ability: El's vision. Possession turns the eyes brown. At least something close to that depending on adjustments they made in development of 4 & 5...

I'll talk about the various ways how this joining/fusion is foreshadowed from Season 2 on forward in another post. It's them literally linked. In Max's head as the diner window predicts. Season 4s ending only started the travel, El needs to join Max in the other dimension (she sent her to according to the script: link further down below), sends Max back and she herself comes back linked with El: Time jump complete.

Keep also in mind that Brenner said that to stop One, El needs to fly. The DeLorean flies. And is powered by "Mr. Fusion." - more in the other post.

"Outatime" - the license plate is California. The skateboard memory is: in California. - I'm not a native English speaker but if I'm not completely wrong this can be interpreted in various ways like in "having no time", being late or... You can interpret it a "Outside of time": Timeless . Endless. Neverending. Like a specific poster:

Season 3 gave us a "Back to the future" reference at the 20 minutes mark.

The Upside-down is a timeless place, it's stuck in time. What happens when something from there intrudes and you build up a shield looks very similar to DeLorean breaking the time barrier.

And of course the dialog

Marty: Ah, Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ, Doc, you disintegrated Einstein!

Doc: Calm down, Marty! I didn't disintegrate anything! The molecular structure of both Einstein and the car are completely intact.

Marty: Then, where the hell are they?!

Doc: The appropriate question is, "When the hell are they?"!

El doesn't disintegrate but transports people and minds into timeless dimensions: "The temporal displacement occurred at exactly 1:20 am", Doc Brown.

I think the time displacement is merely meant in terms of the timelessness of the dimension. We just do not have a clue how it works in regards to our understanding of time. She opened up a portal, phases the person out of time and space and sends them via a beam, a rainbow bridge/Bifröst into another dimension. El is a living transporter room! Energize! - They just combine the several media inspos into their own version.

It is also possible that there is actually a temporal displacement in terms of "time travel" involved when El does this, that these dimensions not only exist outside of time but that those dimensions only begin to exist further in the future. It doesn't need to be much, just hours or days in which the dimension is fully formed - Now, the Wiki puts Henry's arrival in the dimension under the same year of the massacre, 1979. I'm not disputing this. It's logical that things happen right away because of the portal in the lab. But not necessarily since we do not know how timelessness there and time in reality do work.

Stranger Things shows us Henry falling into a maelstrom of clouds and lightning, a thunderstorm (El is afraid of thunderstorms!). What if this maelstrom was some sort of time vortex?

Nonetheless: sending someone into a dimension that has no time is a "temporal displacement" anyway.

Additionally: It takes exactly 1:21 minutes between the disappearance and reappearance of the time machine (not a minute) in movie time - the DeLorean is supposed to reappear at 1:21 am. I bet the Duffers set there and took the time ; it must have been a deliberate choice by Robert Zemeckis because not only was 1:21 a.m. the time the DeLorean came back, it also takes 1.21 Gigawatt to make the time jump.

And the Duffers loved it: 1:21 or 1 2 1 = I II I. The clock with the blue and yellow hands. It shows only I and II. And always of course a I next to a II next to a I: (and they love hiding clues in props no one with a right mind would ever notice) - The blue hand is exactly between 2 and 3 o'clock and the yellow hand between 4 and 5. The blue hand is a point, the yellow hand marks the end, reading as: 1.21

The clock in the counseler's office is by many believed to be a reference to Henry because he's called a "clock maker"

And the poster on the left is meant to show Max running. But she's running towards the clock. If the clock is Vecna, shouldn't the girl in the picture not run away? I mean it looks wrong. She should flee, so that poster on Max's side, showing "her" running away, that would make sense.

She is however running into the direction of the clock. The hands show 12 & 1... 1.21 Gigawatts. The lightning bolt, the "fuel", the electric output it needs to make the jump. That's Marty driving the DeLorean right before the lightning bolt strikes the clock tower in Back to the Future.

1.21 Gigawatts. Remember how the Duffers use flickering lights and electricity to point to love relationships, it flickers a bit for Byler, Dustin makes a remark about Lucas and Max "The electricity". Or the lights in the diner start to flicker.

El and Max are...1.21 Gigawatts. They are a bolt of lightning! That's another reason why El has no fear of lightning when she's with Max.

Back to the clock. Count the lines: it's 8xI lines and 4xII=8 lines. That's the 88 mph! The clock is a tachometer. Everything is set, we have 1.21 Gigawatts and speed is at 88 mph. (I wouldn't be surprised there are more 1.21 or 88s hidden like in the Grandfather clock I talk about further down below. ) . The jump has started and will be completed once they have linked.

And: The clock tower in Back to the Future is struck by lightning at 10:04. 1004. Mirror it. When the 4th victim is killed by 00I/Vecna/Henry, the bolt of lightning strikes the clock with 1:21 Gigawatts! Max's heart stopped for a minute. And El not only revived her but also froze her in time by sending Max's mind into another dimension.

Will the Duffers use the numbers again in Season 5? Very likely. With props or timing. Something like it.

I don't think they go into classic time travel stuff (even though the references to Dr Who and Back to the future are there) ; it has something to do with time. "Endless Summer" "Neverending Story" or the "Spirit World" in Legend of Korra. Those are themes around timelessness. And maybe when you are sent into the dimensions like the Upside-down or the mind-dimension you are also pushed into the future.

Nevertheless there is a "time travel" impending. In fact Season 4 already had a time travel: the "2 days later" is a narrative time travel. A time jump. And that's what's gonna happen in Season 5. So to speak, we get time travel. Or maybe more than one? I can't say with certainty - definitely at the end there will be narrative time jumps, showing the future of the characters.

With Vecna's clock that Max sees is something wrong. It shows the long hand almost hitting the 12 and the short hand between 1 and 2. (It's hard to see, sorry) . The short hand should be close to 2 not visibly between 1 and 2.

The numbers are interesting. As usually the case with Roman numbers, the Xs and Vs are made with thick and thin lines. The thin lines are almost not visible.

In the school, the long hand is almost at the \ (X), then follows II and I before the short hand marks the end:

The long hand points to the thick line of the X: \. The short hand marks the end.

\ II I = 1 2 1 = 1.21 because the first 1 is represented as a thick \ of the actual X, the straight lines, II and I, come after the point.

About details: the crack in the clock's window is representing the portal opening by the end of Vol2.

The Duffers love hiding in the background and using numbers such as dates etc. The clock in Season 3 points to 6 and the short hand is closing in on minute 5. They probably also love looking at numbers and use pop culture as an inspo and reference:

Doc loosens the handbrake milliseconds before the tachometer shows 65 mph. Its 64.xx to 65.

At normal speed you only notice the 65 because it's to quick. 6+5=11 - Another reason why they used Back to the future as a reference. The DeLorean starts driving with 65 mph. And it goes at 87... to 88 mph.

Maybe 1987 is indeed the year they'll complete the jump meaning, Max wakes up then. 1987 is a good year for several other pop cultural reference reasons that are of relevance, from Mad Max 4 to Green Lantern. It is said that they are looking for cars from 88,however I doubt that one uses a brand new car in an apocalyptic area? So, it's likely more for the final scenes, I guess. Then 1989 would also be interesting. - It is unclear which year it actually will be. My best guess is 1987 and 1989 is the year of the final moments of the show. If there is a clear hint, I haven't found it yet. So, that's more in the realm of speculation. Yet.

Anyway, there's another reference in Season 4 that El started the "time travel" and they hit the 88 mph and lightning struck with 1.21 Gigawatts when she revived Max:

The original time machine from Back to the future was meant to be a refrigerator and was referenced in Indiana Jones 4. And they wanted to use an atomic explosion in Back to the Future. Atomic tests were done in Nevada. The diner is in Nevada and they use a huge refrigerator. - So, El jumped into the time machine and started the travel... 65 mph = 11.

When it comes to the Duffers there's very little room for coincidence. They go as far and even picked the flowers that Mike gave El themselves.

Conclusion Not only points it once more to what I postulated earlier, the link between El and Max and that both will fuse (Mr Fusion!). ..

... but it confirms Elmax as a couple in itself. Because they can only work when together, the mall scene shows it, the reference is there and points to the: 1.21 Gigawatts at 88 mph.

PS: although not made from scratch for the show, the Grandfather clock was modified by the production team.

Part 2:

[eviltiddyprodnz]

xo kitty : episode 5

I was sketchy on team friends with Dae but just let it be babe. you need someone who'll at least be around and also his contact photo for Yuri is the one where she's kissing him on the cheek and you never got to do that and that hurts my heart 😭✋

my sister getting an F oh it's bad for her

they're going to celebrate Chuseok together !!! honestly was so random (?) and weird without the brother angle. she's about to cook a massive feast 💀🙏

Minho is going to help her but he has still not managed to wiggle into my good side. Drag her sister kitty !

the way I've never read a wattapad story in my life but through internet osmosis i thought this was one of the random dream sequences because he was being nice and cooking. (technically it happens in stories after they've slept together but we move 😂)

Kitty needs to get fun new nails!!! blue is so :|

the teddy bear apron

lmao Minho when were you team kitty let me catch you

them being nice to each other is making me go 🫨

Yuri is being super nice for showing up to Dae's house but i once again beg what about kitty 😭😭😭

how do people cook with their hair open

damn Minho really needed a friend. he's just telling her everything 🤣

I'll let have kitty have the magic of finding the one despite that everyone she knows who's in love is still pretty young 💀

I hope she does not talk to him at the dinner table in front of other people 🙏 if there's one kdrama cliche I'm happy to avoid it's everyone finding out your business in public at the same time as you.

thankyou so much for coming everybody! even though all of you have happily ignored my girl till this point 😔 professor Lee has no family!? Not them zooming in on him when she said that

the way i can't even be mad at dae and yuri but i still feel a sting for kitty because i'm team kitty

Jesus fuck is she going to ruin Kitty's gift. NOT THE NECKLACE YURI NO

why can't kitty win once

damn alex might be professor Lee's son but was Lee there in 1993?

Someone get Kitty a lifeline when does she get to be happy

Minho called her Covey, I fear it's over for Dae (Yuri you will crumble, literally what was the reason)

I do not know in what world a guy was talking to other women makes you more interested but slay Lulu! You just gave Kitty a lifeline

get Kitty better shoes

Yuri is currently on my bad side

Oh for a solid second i thought alex was going to say i think you have a crush on me 💀 but slay he picked up context clues well 🙏

Yuri's mom buring a picture of her and Kitty's mom alone with a glass of champagne on a table with no one besides her as dramatic music plays what was Kitty's mom doing here 💀

Also I totally skipped the what happens this season after the first episode and went back to watch it. This might get interesting!!!

[angelmavmurdock]

*Lock & Key: Part Eleven - B.B.

WARNINGS: angst! smut! oral (m receiving), fingering, p-in-v penetrative sex. lotta love. This is the final part guys! 

-

Maverick ran faster than he ever had in his entire life. And that’s saying something.

He ran and ran towards the descending parachute in the distance, hoping to God that Bradley would be okay. After nearly 15 minutes of straight sprinting, Mav could see Bradley in the distance – attempting to bunch up his parachute. His heart lifted, knowing that he was okay – but his legs didn’t stop moving.

“You alright?!” Mav shouted, still running as fast as his feet would allow.

“Yeah, I’m alright! Are you-?”

Maverick shoved Bradley with all of his might, and he plummeted into the snow behind him. Mav ripped his helmet off and stood, hunched over, and attempting to catch his breath. Running that distance with his full gear on was a workout and a half and Mav was beginning to feel his age.

Bradley struggled with taking his helmet off, still submerged in the snow.

“What the hell?” Bradley exclaimed, attempting to get up.

“What are you doing here?”

Bradley shook off the snow, aggravated at Mav’s tone.

“What am I doing here?”

“I sacrificed myself for you! Not so you could be down here with me! You should be back on the carrier by now!” Mav shouted.

“I saved your life!” Bradley shouted back.

“I saved your life. That’s the whole point.” Mav argued, panting still.

“What the hell were you even thinking?”

“You told me not to think!” Bradley rebutted.

Mav stood panting, still staring up at Bradley but now with a guilty look on his face. He did tell him that. Shit.

Bradley threw his hands into the air and then placed them on his hips, staring up at the blue sky and watching as his breath formed a cloud in front of him. He couldn’t believe this.

“Well…it’s good to see you.” Mav said.

Bradley nodded, looking at him again, “Good to see you, too.”

They stood in silence, both catching their breaths and coming to terms with what just happened.

“So, what’s the plan?” Bradley asked.

He looked around. Nothing but snow and tall trees surrounded them. Unless a search party was put out – which he doubted considering the circumstances – they were never going to get home.

“I know where we can go. Come on.” Mav instructed, walking past Bradley.

Bradley watched his godfather walk away and towards whatever was in front of them. He groaned and caught up to him.

The next thing on their mind was you. They both thought about you at the same time.

“Is-”

“Hondo’s taking care of her.” Mav said before Bradley could even finish his thought.

He nodded, “Okay. Good. Do you think he knows we’re okay?”

Mav stayed silent for a while as they walked, not exactly knowing the answer to that.

“He knows me, but he also knows this mission. He’s aware of the risks so, who knows? They could be grieving us right now or they could be laughing and drinking tea for all I know.”

Bradley smiled a little at the thought of you and Hondo just laughing and chatting about nothing, just waiting for him and Mav to get back. But his stomach sunk at the thought of you heartbroken over – not just your father, but your best friend, too. He still had no clue if you guys were boyfriend and girlfriend yet. He sure as hell knew that he loved you.

“I’m in love with your daughter.” Bradley blurted.

Mav didn’t even pause for a second.

“I think I’ve loved her for my whole life.”

Mav nodded. And without looking to Bradley, he simply said, “I know.”

Bradley gulped, looking next to him. Mav kept walking, his eyes going from the snow beneath his feet to the road ahead.

“You knew, what?”

“I always knew you loved her. So did your parents. We weren’t that naïve.”

Bradley was wide-eyed now. He felt so exposed.

“How?”

Maverick scoffed a laugh, “You two were inseparable. You were so nice to one another and the way you both talked about each other, Jesus Christ, it was adorable at the time but yes, we knew how in love you two were.”

“You’re telling me mom and dad both knew?”

Mav laughed, “Of course they did. Remember when there was that Halloween disco at school in what, 7 or 8th grade? And you two wanted to go as Han Solo and Princess Leia? You brought her a flower from your neighbour’s garden and gave it to her, then Goose told me you cried later on that night because y/n lost the flower.”

Bradley had his mouth hanging open in shock. He completely forgot about that.

“Oh my god.” He laughed, rubbing a hand over his flushed face.

How could he have been so stupid to believe his crush on you was under-wraps. He was so blatantly in love with you it was humiliating. He knows it doesn’t really matter anymore but the child inside him is face-palming himself so hard right now.

“And I knew as soon as you found out about y/n being on the mission, you two would get back to how you were.”

Bradley scoffed a laugh, “Well, it took a while to get past the grudge.”

Mav nodded, “She hated you for so long, but I knew she was just hurt. And I knew you’d be hurting, too. In more ways than one. But now you’ve sorted things out. Don’t dare lose it, again.”

Bradley looked at Mav, clenching his jaw. Mav didn’t scare him per-say, he just intimidated Bradley slightly.

“Because if you hurt her, I could kill you. And if she hurts you, then there must be a reason for it, and I’d still kill you.”

Bradley chuckled and nodded, “Fair enough, Mav.”

“Now, I’ve got a plan. Follow my lead.”

---

While your boyfriend and father were currently prepping to get into an ancient F-14, you were limping quickly to the locker room. Hondo followed behind you.

“There’s no way I’m letting them lie there dead for all I know, Hondo.” You told him as you shoved the locker room door open.

Hondo huffed, “You’re not going to get the go ahead, Locket. There’s no point.”

You paused in your tracks. Your back ached but you didn’t care about that right now.

“Hangman.” You thought out loud.

He was on stand-by. He had been declined in the moment, but if he asked to fly again, he could go. You pushed past Hondo and out of the room again, making your way through the ship.

“Locket, stop it.”

You weren’t even listening. His voice was practically white noise to you now. You couldn’t tell if you were burning hot or freezing cold and you had a feeling your body was never going to forgive you for running around without crutches. You didn’t care about hospital time anymore, all you cared about was your dad and Bradley being left stranded.

“Where the hell are you going?” Hondo asked as you climbed a set of stairs to the tarmac.

You looked down at him, standing with a shocked and confused face, with a hand on the banister. You didn’t stop moving. Your feet wouldn’t allow it.

“To talk to Hangman.” You stated, before turning back around and finishing the climb.

You were struck by wind as you stepped outside, nearly toppling you over. You were still in your khakis, but the flight crew seemed to allow you up. You heard Hondo’s footsteps and your heart pounded. You searched for Hangman’s plane for what felt like forever before you spotted it. You ran – and limped – to Hangman’s plane.

You banged on the side of the jet and curled down the ladder yourself. Hangman took off his helmet and looked at you climbing up in awe.

“What the hell are you doing, Locket?!” He exclaimed.

“You need to go get them, Hangman.” You stated.

He scoffed, “I tried, but Simpson said not to.”

“It’s Bradley, Hangman. Its Rooster, okay? And it’s my dad. I can’t fly so I need you to do it for me.”

He shook his head, “You know it’s not that easy. Are you high off of pain killers or something?”

“No but-”

“Dagger spare, do you copy?”

You and Hangman froze, staring at each other. He spoke into his comms without looking away from you.

“Dagger spare, copy.” He replied.

“Rooster’s E-Sat is online. He’s airborne.”

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide and your heart lifting to your throat.

“Holy shit.” You whispered.

“Reports of an F-14 tomcat is headed for our position. They’ll need backup.”

“Copy, on it.” Hangman replied.

You were speechless. You were feeling so many things all at once.

“Who else would fly a goddamn F-14 with Rooster?” Hangman commented with a smirk.

You lunged forward and embraced him, despite the uncomfortable position. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the hug, but you knew he was smiling.

“Go save the day, Bagman.” You quipped, pulling back from the hug, and descending back down the ladder.

-

Bradley and your dad were flying smoothly now. The mountains and hills below them were sprinkled with snow and the cloudless sky above seemed vast.

Bradley examined what was in front of him in the backseat. He had absolutely no clue how to do this. He was staring at hundreds of buttons and switches with no knowledge of how to work them.

“Right, Rooster, try and get us back in touch with the carrier.” Mav said.

“I’m workin’ on it.” Bradley replied, skimming his fingers over the array of switches.

“The radio’s out, there’s no radar. Everything’s dead back here.” He sighed, dropping his unhelpful hands.

“What do I do? Talk me through it.”

“Okay, first, the radio. Throw on the circuit breaker.”

“There’s hundreds of breakers back here; anything more specific?” Bradley asked.

Maverick’s lip pulled into a small smile, “I don’t know. That was your dads department.”

Bradley nodded, “I’ll figure it out.”

All he could think about was you. He hoped you knew he was okay. And he wished you were okay, too. Bradley wanted to keep his mind busy because thinking of you wasn’t helping. He fiddled with the different breakers and switches, hoping he’d eventually find the right one.

He switched sides, turning to look behind him when he saw two jets out of the window. His heart dropped.

“Mav, tally two, five o’clock – low.” He announced.

He kept an eye on them but flickered his attention to Maverick who was quiet.

“What do we do?” Bradley asked.

“Just be cool, if they knew who we were we’d be dead already.”

The two jets flew up in formation with the F-14. Bradley swallowed.

“Well, here they come. What’s your plan?”

Mav clicked on his mask, “Remember we’re on the same team. Wave and smile.”

The jets flew up next to them and Bradley fumbled slightly with his mask as he put it into place. His heart rate began to rise and all he could think about was you.

Bradley and Mav waved to the opposite pilots who didn’t seem to want to wave back. One pilot signalled. Bradley kept his eyes on the pilot.

“What’s he saying?”

“No clue.” Maverick responded.

Bradley gulped. The pilot signalled again. Shit.

“That one?”

“Never seen that one before, either.”

The pilot turned to face front again. Bradley furrowed his brows then watched as the wingman moved behind them.

“Shit.” He cursed.

“Right, listen up. When I tell you – you grab those rings above your head and pull. Those are the ejection handles.”

Bradley felt a wave of emotion and his brain didn’t know how to compute it. He was Mav’s backseater in an F-14 and he now had to think about ejecting. His brain felt like it was frying. He was in the same position his dad was before he died. Bradley tried to pry that thought from his head.

“Mav, can we outrun these guys?”

“Not their missiles and guns.”

Bradley paused, trying to comprehend what was about to happen.

“So it’s a dogfight.”

“In an F-14 against 5th gen fighters…”

“It’s not the plane. It’s the pilot.” Bradley said.

“You’d go after ‘em if I wasn’t here.”

Maverick scoffed, “But you are here.”

Bradley’s heart sunk.

“C’mon, Mav. Don’t think. Just do.”

-

“What the hell are you doing?” Hondo shouted at you.

You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. He stood still for a moment before lightly placing his hands on your back.

“What’s going on, Locket?”

You pulled back and looked at Hondo, “Dad and Bradley are alive. They’re in an F-14 and hopefully they’re coming home. Hangman just got sent to get them.”

Hondo’s mouth slowly dropped open. You bit your lip, feeling your nose tingle again. You were not about to cry in front of Hondo again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, nodding his way through his thoughts.

“You’re your father’s daughter, that’s for sure.” He finally spoke.

You grinned and squeezed his arm before walking back down the stairs.

He followed behind you as you marched towards the control room, bursting through the doors and sitting back down in your seat.

“Locket, you shouldn’t be in here.” Simpson told you.

You looked up at him, “I need to be here.”

Simpson opened his mouth to tell you off, but Hondo cut in front of him and stared him down as he sat next to you.

“She needs to be here.” Hondo reiterated.

Simpson closed his mouth and clenched his jaw.

“Fine.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You focused on the sound of your heart beating, pressing your fingers to your wrist. No more crying. No more hysterics. You had to focus. Anything could happen and you needed to be prepared. Your back ached, adding to the pressure and tension that encapsulated your entire being. You rolled your head, stretching your neck, and then opened your eyes.

“The GPS is not responding. I think they’re low in terrain.”

Hangman spoke over comms. You watched as Bates and Simpson gave each other a look.

“Tell him to keep high, don’t go below deck. They’re in a dogfight.” Simpson ordered.

You swallowed, trying to keep your cool. Your brain was all over the place. You couldn’t hear them, so you had no clue about where they were or what they were doing. But the sound of your dad getting into a dogfight in an F-14 sounds about right. You were a little surprised that he would be doing it with Bradley in the backseat. It sure was one hell of a bonding session.

“Sir, we have a signal connecting to Rooster’s E-Sat. We’ve got their location.”

Your eyes lit up and your jaw dropped. Hondo grasped your shoulder and you turned to face his huge grin.

“They’re okay.” You whispered in disbelief.

He nodded, “Of course they are.”

You took a deep breath and exhaled. They were coming home.

-

“We’re out of flares, Mav!” Bradley shouted from the backseat.

His hands flailed about, trying to keep himself in place while he checked around him for the new jet that was attacking them.

“Shit, he’s already on us! This is not good!” He exclaimed, trying to keep an eye on the jet.

Maverick stayed silent, trying to put all of his focus into dodging the guns and bombs this plane was sending towards them. But the only image he had in his head was of nearly 30 years ago when he and Goose were in a jet over the ocean in an unmovable mission. History was repeating itself.

Maverick shook the thoughts out of his head as Bradley announced that they took another hit.

“No, no, no,” Mav repeated to himself.

The jets engines were getting shot at and lights started flashing everywhere around Bradley. He groaned.

“We can’t take much more of this!”  

“We’re not gonna outrun this guy. We’ll need to eject. We need altitude. Pull the ejection handles the second I tell you!” Mav ordered.

Bradley’s heart dropped, “Mav, no-”

“Rooster, there’s no other way!”

Maverick pulled up fast, sending them vertical in the air. Bradley couldn’t help but panic, now. He gripped the ejection handles, waiting for Mavericks ‘go’. His heart was pounding, and everything was moving in slow motion.

He knew this was how his father died and he couldn’t bare the thought of it happening again. His chest felt tight as they climbed higher and higher, and he groaned and grunted to let some tension go but nothing was working.

A picture of you flashed into his mind. You in his car after prom nearly a decade ago. Your eyes dark and tired, your flushed skin glowing in the moonlight, your hair still wet and in its natural form. Your beaming smile and your laugh that you got embarrassed about and dug your head into Bradley’s chest to hide your blushing cheeks.

The thought soothed him for a split second.

“Eject! Eject! Eject!”

He woke up from the daydream and pulled the ejection handles above his head. Once. Twice. Three times. Why the hell wasn’t it working?

“Rooster, pull the handles!” Maverick shouted.

“It’s not working!” Bradley shouted back.

He kept pulling. Harder and harder. It was broken. His whole insides felt like they dropped. They weren’t getting out of this alive.

Mav just kept climbing and trying to control his breathing. Not only was he going to lose his daughter, but he was practically losing his son, too.

“Mav!” Bradley shouted at him from the backseat.

The blood was rushing to his head, and he scrambled around for something to hold on to. Something to ground him. He had no clue what Mav was doing. Everything inside of him was screaming.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry, Goose.” Maverick whispered.

Bradley squeezed his eyes shut. This was it. He suddenly missed his dad and his mom.

He heard the sound of an explosion behind them. Bradley turned with all his might to look behind and realised that he was okay. He was still breathing. Still moving.

Behind them was a colossal cloud of black smoke in the air. And before he could even ask what had happened, a jet flew through the cloud.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your saviour speaking.”

Bradley’s heart lifted and the biggest wave of relief swarmed over him.

“Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions, and prepare for landing.” Hangman said with the most nonchalant cocky voice he always spoke in.

Bradley laughed. He had never been happier to see that man in his life. Hangman flew alongside Mav and Bradley, giving a small salute to them. Mav banged on the window, giving him a thumbs up. He could finally breathe again.

“Hey, Hangman. You look good.” Bradley said with a grin.

“I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.” He replied.

Bradley chuckled and nodded at him. Hangman pulled away and flew off, going back to the carrier.

-

“Please fasten your seatbelts…and prepare for landing.”

Your whole body felt relief as Hangman spoke, making it very known that Bradley and your dad were okay. You slumped back in your chair, taking a moment for a breath. The room had erupted in cheers and high-fives. You just needed a quiet moment to yourself. Never again would you ever have an injury before a mission. Never again.

“Make sure they get home safe. We’re going to see them come in.” Bates said.

He flashed you a wink as him and Simpson left the control room, and you returned him with a smile.

“You alright?” Hondo asked.

You nodded, “Never been better.”

He grinned and nodded. He stood up, cracking his knuckles and his neck before extending his hand to you.

“Come on, let’s see those two sons of bitches arrive safely.”

You chuckled and placed your hand in his, letting him escort you to tarmac.

-

Bradley was grinning the whole way back, and during their fly-by…and as they began descending. Until the jet jolted and he hung his head back.

“Please don’t tell me we lost an engine.” He said, shaking his head.

Maverick paused, “Alright, I won’t tell you that.”

“Okay.” Bradley responded, keeping his arms tucked in and his body tense as they began landing.

They smacked down on the tarmac, making both of their heads fly forwards and back. The jet scraped along the scorching hot ground until it came to a halt, leaving Mav and Bradley still in the plane while crew worked around them with fire extinguishers.

“You good?” Mav asked.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Bradley responded, a slight chuckle following.

Neither of them could believe they actually made it. They stayed seated in the plane, both silent together, thinking about what just happened. Bradley leaned his head back and shook his head.

But their moment of quiet wasn’t long, as hundreds of crew members and pilots ran towards the plane, cheering and shouting. The top of the plane rose, and Bradley lifted his helmet up in triumph.

-

You raced up the stairs and saw the jet on the tarmac. But the crowds of people surrounding it was huge and you were going to have to push your way through. You started jogging towards the crowd and excuse me’d your way through the heaps of people. You saw the top of Bradley’s helmet in the air and your adrenaline rushed through you.

Hondo met Maverick at the jet, taking him in a tight embrace.

“You good?” Hondo asked, shouting over the noise.

“I’m good! Where’s y/n?”

Hondo looked around, attempting to find you.

“Give me a minute!” He shouted back.

Maverick nodded and swallowed. He just wanted to hold you. He needed to ground himself. Part of him believed he was still out there and he didn’t make it.

Phoenix grabbed Bradley in the tightest hug and pushed him back with a grin. He laughed. His face hurt from smiling so much.

Hangman approached Bradley, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he came face-to-face with him. They looked at each other, mutually and non-verbally putting their rivalry to rest. Hangman extended his gloved hand and Bradley smirked, shaking his hand.

“Got yourself another kill?” Bradley commented.

“That makes two.” Hangman stated.

“Maverick has five. Makes him an ace.” Phoenix added.

Bradley turned to Hangman and they both quirked their eyebrows.

You pushed your way through the crowd until you bumped into Hondo.

“Come on, slow coach.” Hondo grabbed your wrist with a laugh.

You followed behind him and just like magic, the crowd parted slightly, and you and your dad caught sight of each other. Hondo dropped your arm, and you felt your whole body relax. Tears filled your eyes and your feet moved before your brain could allow it. You ran into your dads arms, letting him wrap his arms tightly around you.

You cried into his chest and he leaned his head against yours. You knew he was crying, too.

“Are you okay?” You asked with a croaky voice.

“I’m alright, sweetie. I’m here.”

Your hands wrapped fully around his middle and held him so tight.

“I thought I lost you.” You said to him.

He pulled back from you and held your shoulders, “You’re never losing me, y/n. I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled and covered his hands with yours, shaking your head in disbelief. You opened your mouth to say something, but your dad jumped in before the words could come out.

“We’ll talk later, okay? I think you need to see Bradley.”

You nodded. Fuck. You were nervous. Why were you nervous? Just the sound of his name made your whole stomach flip upside down. You took a deep breath, and your dad nodded you through it. He held your hand and squeezed it before you left him to fight through the crowd to find him.

You were disorientated and confused when the farther you got, the less crowd there was and there was no sight of him. You started to panic. Had he just left without saying anything to?

You were now standing on your own and you looked back at the huge crowd surrounding your dad. But you couldn’t see Bradley. You felt like a child who had lost someone in a supermarket. The panic settled in your stomach. Maybe he didn’t want to see you.

Your throat and nose burned as tears began streaming from your eyes.

“B-Bradley?” You called feebly into the crowd.

Not a single soul turned around.

“Bradley!” You shouted again.

You pushed your way back in, frantically looking up at any man who remotely resembled him.

“Brad!”

You shouted his name over and over again into the crowd.

Rooster had left the crowd for a moment for some air. He couldn’t find you and he was getting claustrophobic. Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, and the team waited with him as he took his time breathing. He felt ill. Why hadn’t you come to see him yet?

“Rooster!” You called.

“She’ll just be with her dad, Bradshaw. Don’t worry about it.” Phoenix said calmly, rubbing his back.

“Bradley!”

His ears pricked up and his back straightened.

“I think I heard her.” He said quietly.

“What?” Bob asked.

“Brad!” You felt small in this huge crowd and all you wanted to do was get out of it.

“I can hear her.”

He dropped his helmet and walked closer to the crowd. When he saw you. Lost in the crowd. He saw you fight your way through everyone and in his mind he cursed you for not taking it easy with your back.

“y/n!” He shouted, his voice travelling to you.

You paused and raised up onto your tiptoes. You swear you could see a glimpse of him past a few more rows of people.

“Bradley!” You squealed.

You shoved a few people out the way until you were finally out of the crowd. And Brad was facing you, only a few metres away. You both stopped in your tracks and stared at each other.

You raised a hand to your mouth, feeling the tears begin to flow again. He lifted his hands to his face, covering his eyes and dipping his head.

You started walking to him. Then started running. He moved his hands and ran towards you - meeting you halfway.

You crashed into him, wrapping your arms up around his shoulders. You were on your tiptoes, pulling him as close to you as possible. He wrapped one arm around your waist and another came to cup the back of your head protectively against his neck.

“I thought you died, Brad. I thought you were gone.” You sobbed into his skin.

His skin. You couldn’t get closer to him if you tried, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“I told you. I’m never leaving you.” He commented, sniffling and pressing a kiss to your head through your hair.

You pulled away from him and cupped his cheeks. He looked down at you with the biggest eyes on the planet and you melted.

“You saved him, didn’t you.” You whispered, wiping a tear from his cheek.

He nodded, “Because he saved me.”

You bit your lip, attempting not to sob.

“I love you.” You told him.

His mouth dropped open slightly. His eyes moved from your eyes to your lips and before you knew it, his mouth was on yours. You hummed and wrapped your arms entirely around his neck. He lifted you up with his hands around your waist, your feet lifting up from the ground.

His lips moved against yours in synchronisation, and his hands gripped onto you so hard it was like he would never let go of you ever again.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your lips between kisses.

You grinned, “I love you.”

He smiled into the kiss and pressed one last peck against your swollen lips as he set you back on the ground.

“Are we gonna talk about how you’re not on your crutches, or-”

“That is not what you should be worrying about, right now.” You said sternly.

He smirked, “Okay.”

“Okay.” You smiled back.

“Jesus, we get it, you’re in love!” Hangman shouted from behind Bradley.

You looked past Rooster’s shoulder and to Hangman and the team who were all standing with huge grins on their face. You squeezed Bradley’s shoulder, and he kept his hand attached to your waist until he physically couldn’t as you jogged towards Hangman.

Hangman stood still, waiting for you coming to him. You approached him and punched him in the shoulder. He gasped and looked at you with wide eyes.

“That’s for being a dick to me and my boyfriend.” You said.

He rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder.

“But that’s also a thank you for saving him and my dad.”

He smiled, “You’ll never hear the end of this, Locket. I hope you know that.”

You rolled your eyes, “One day, I’ll get to save your ass and we’ll be 50/50.”

He put his hands on his hips, “I guess you’re right.”

Bradley came up behind you and pressed his hand against the small of your back. He lowered down to press a kiss against your cheek.

“I’m gonna talk to your dad. I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded and turned your head to look up at him, “Okay.”

He smiled down at you and you couldn’t not smile back at him.

“I love you.” You said.

“I love you, too.”

He pressed a peck against your lips before jogging back to the crowd.

“You guys disgust me.” Phoenix commented.

You laughed and wrapped your arm around her shoulders, letting the team walk you back inside.

“I knew you guys were fucking.” Hangman interjected.

You shoved him, “I’ll take back all of my niceness, Bagman. Watch it.”

---

You were lying across one of the benches, nearly falling asleep as Phoenix talked about the mission. She was just out of the shower and getting back into her khakis and you hadn’t even thought about a shower yet. You had taken your hair out of the painful bun it was in, but other than that you had barely moved. You were wondering why Bradley was taking so long. He must be getting heaps of praise. You were hoping the mission was the final thing that could bond him and your dad back together.

“Locket?”

You opened your eyes and let the cloud of thoughts burst above your head. You lifted your eyeline up to Phoenix who was looking at you confused as she brushed her hair back.

“Were you even listening?” She asked, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

You yawned, “Sorry, Nat. Keep going.”

“It’s fine. You need some rest. We all do.”

She sat down next to your legs, and you laid them across her lap. She smiled.

“You know, I wasn’t trying to be rude or second guess Rooster when your dad got hit. I just didn’t want him to get hurt.” She explained softly.

You sat up, leaning back on your palms.

“Nat, I never thought about it like that. You were all trying to keep him safe, you were right to say that. But…if it wasn’t for him then dad would have been gone.” You said.

Phoenix looked down at your legs, fiddling with your uniform.

“And if they didn’t end up together, then they’d both be dead.” You laughed.

Phoenix smirked. You could tell she felt overwhelmed, and you didn’t blame her. You couldn’t imagine being up there with one of your closest friends and having to watch him nearly kill himself.

“Are you okay?” You asked her quietly.

She looked down and nodded. But her hands went to her face quickly and you swiped your legs off her lap to scooch close to her and embrace her. She cried into your arms, and you leaned your head against hers.

“You’ve been through a lot today. You have every right to feel overwhelmed and emotional.” You told her, rubbing her back.

She sniffled, “I know. It was just a lot. I thought we lost Rooster, you know?”

You started tearing up. You always cried when someone else cried. You nodded.

“I know. But you got home safe and so did he. We’re all okay.”

You closed your eyes as you and her rocked gently from side to side as she cried into your arms. You took some deep breaths and she copied. It was soothing, the silence in the locker room. Until the door creaked open.

You peeled an eye open to look up at Bradley. He had stepped half in the room and paused when he saw you two. You smiled up at him, nodding him over and he took it as an okay to come in. He quietly closed the door behind him and started taking off his gear. You were so in love with him. Just watching him trying to be as quiet as possible was making your heart flutter.

He sat on the bench and slid along to meet Phoenix on her other side. His hand came to her back to rub it gently.

“Hey,” He practically whispered.

She looked up to him and burst into laughter, wiping her tears away.

“What’s this all about, huh?” He asked with a smirk.

“You being an asshole and nearly killing yourself.” She choked out.

His eyes widened in surprise, clearly not used to seeing his friend in such a state.

“I’m still alive though. No way I was going to let you live your life without me annoying you.”

She rolled her eyes and wiped her nose. He held his arms out to her and she chuckled before embracing him. You put a hand to her knee to let her know you were still there for her as she hugged your boyfriend.

Bradley kissed the top of her head and didn’t let her go. You felt like crying. He was so gentle. For someone who has gone through as much as he has, you were amazed at how amazing a person he was. He cared so deeply about everything. You believed it was a gift and not a weakness.

You sighed and wiped a hand over your face. Brad caught your eye and nodded his head as if to say ‘What’s up?’

“Just tired.” You mouthed.

He nodded understandingly.

“Me too.” He mouthed.

You nodded back.            

You watched them as Phoenix relaxed completely against him. You were worried she was falling asleep. You looked from her to Bradley with a fond smile and he caught your eye.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He mimed a kiss and you did it back, both of you grinning afterwards.

Phoenix sat back up, groaning and wiping her eyes, “I’m so done with today.”

You all laughed, “You need a cold beer after this.” You said.

She nodded, “That is the truest thing I’ve ever heard, Locket.”

You smiled as she stood up and grabbed her stuff. She walked back over and ruffled your boyfriends hair as she headed for the door.

“I’ll leave you two love birds alone.” She said before leaving.

“Don’t be too loud!” She shouted from the corridor as the door shut behind her.

You laughed, rolling your eyes.

You and Bradley were left alone and in silence. You stared at one another, simultaneously taking a deep breath. You looked at him. Really looked at him. He had some dirt across his face and his hair was messy and darker than usual. His nose and cheeks were a light shade of red and his eyes looked tired but still bright. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly but he still seemed in good spirits.

“Do you need a shower?” He asked, standing up from the bench with a groan.

You nodded. He opened his locker and took out his toilet bag, sitting it next to you. You watched with wide eyes as he began unzipping his flight suit so it rested low on his hips. He reached for the hem of his black t-shirt underneath – but not before you could admire the way his biceps looked against the sleeves. And as he pulled it over his head, you pulled your lip between your teeth. How his V-line showed, and the trail of sandy-blonde hair that connected to his belly button. How his rippling abs looked effortless, and his shoulders looked so broad.

“Honey, you good?” He asked with a smirk, folding his t-shirt and putting it on the bench.

“More than good, now.” You remarked.

He shook his head and pushed the flight suit down to his ankles and stepped out of it. Now he was just annoying you. Black boxers clung to his thick thighs and you didn’t fail to notice the shape beneath them.

“Jesus, Brad.” You sighed.

He scoffed, “You’re not serious.”

“What? Am I not allowed to appreciate you?” You asked, standing up.

“You can’t be horny right now.” He laughed.

You started unbuttoning your shirt and taking it from beneath your trousers. He watched you as he folded his flight suit up. His tongue poked out to swipe over his bottom lip as he watched you part the shirt to show your white bra underneath.

You looked up at him with doe eyes as you peeled it off of your back and dropped it on the bench. He gulped, and you revelled in watching his Adams apple bob up and down.

You stepped closer to your boyfriend, your hand going to the button on your trousers. He took a deep breath in and held it, as if he was trying not to crack under pressure.

You looked up at him as you unbuttoned your trousers and pulled the zip down.

“I think we both need a shower.” You said quietly.

Your breath fanned across his lips, and he clenched his jaw. You pushed your trousers down to the floor and stepped out of them. Bradley’s eyes wandered down your chest to your white panties. He looked back to your eyes, and they had darkened within milliseconds.

“And I want to show my boyfriend-” You slid your hands up his torso and to his broad shoulders.

You stood up on your tiptoes and curled a hand to the nape of his warm neck, bringing him closer to you.

“How proud I am of him.” You whispered into his ear.

He shuddered ever so slightly, letting his eyes roll to the back of his head. His hands hovered over your hips – knowing that if he was to touch you now, he’d have to take you right there and then.

You pressed a kiss to his ear and then his cheek.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back. I missed you, baby.”

He hummed at your words, eyes still closed, brain trying to decide what it wants.

One hand left his shoulder and travelled down his body to the waistband of his boxers. Your fingers teased it, dipping underneath and feeling a tickle of his hair. You smirked against his cheek.

“Please give me it. I need it.” You whispered.

That sent him flying. He crashed his lips against yours and you hummed in surprise, picking your arms up to fall around his shoulders. His hands went to your thighs, dipping down to lift you into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his hips and his hands supported your ass as he walked forwards to one of the showers.

Your tongue’s pushed against each other’s in need, the roughness of his moustache digging into your upper lip. He stepped up into one of the cubicles and turned on the shower. He pressed you against the wall and pulled back from your lips.

His hand curled around your back to rid you of your bra, and he sent it out the curtain. He pulled it shut and pressed up against you. The water was warm now and the steam began surrounding you. He encased your lips with his, pushing his tongue into your mouth. You moaned, running your fingers up into his hair as your lips moved with his and his hands squeezed your ass.

You resisted against him and he cautiously stopped kissing you. You looked up at him – his eyes worried and wondering what was wrong. But you unwrapped your legs and sunk to your knees before he could ask you if you were okay. His jaw dropped and you pushed down his – now wet – boxers.

His half-hard cock sprung free and into your hand.

“Baby,” He moaned, as you began stroking him.

He pressed one hand on the wall behind you and the other to your hair, pushing it back from your forehead. You kept looking up at him and you marvelled at how he looked from this angle. He looked chiselled from a God and your mouth salivated at the view.

You braced one hand against his thigh and used the other to stroke him, spitting onto his length as you did. He groaned and bit his lip as you finally took him in your mouth. You sucked on his tip, moaning around him. He squeezed the back of your head like he was refraining from fucking your face. You got wet instantly and pressed your thighs together. You didn’t care how uncomfortable the floor was beneath you. How could you care about anything else when Bradley and all of his toned abs, thick thighs and blissed out face was above you?

“You feel so good, baby. Shit.” He moaned, collecting your hair into a ponytail.

You bobbed your head on his length, easing your mouth and throat to the size of him. Somehow, he felt bigger in your mouth than he did anywhere else. You could feel his cock getting harder as you sucked and swirled your tongue around his tip. He groaned, biting his lip so hard you were worried he’d cut his lip.

He brought his other hand down to cup under your chin and you looked up at him, pausing with his cock still in your mouth, resting on your flattened tongue.

A beat of silence. Tension. His dark eyes staring down at you with lust and adoration. You broke the stillness by bobbing your head slowly forwards as you kept your eyes on him. He stuttered a groan, his mouth falling open. His hands guided you as he thrusted into your mouth ever so slightly, mentoring you through it.

“Look so pretty like this, with my cock in your mouth, honey.”

You squeezed your thighs. Jesus Christ.

You pulled off of him for a breath of air. One of your hands cupped under his balls, massaging them while your other stroked him, your thumb grazing his tip. You took a breath before slackening your jaw for him once again. He hummed, encouraging you forward with his hands.

“That’s it, baby. So good for me.” He praised as you let him take control of you.

He pulled you forward and thrusted at the same time, allowing you to rest your hands on his thighs and focus on your breathing. He rocked his hips back and forth, and you kept your gaze on him – blinking tears back with every stroke.

You moaned around him when you felt him twitch in your mouth, but he pulled away from you quickly and lifted your chin to look up at him. You gasped and gulped in surprise.

“Don’t wanna come in your mouth. Wanna come in your pussy.” He stated as he pulled you up from the floor.

He pushed and pulled at your pants until they splatted on a pool on the ground, and he was on you again, slipping his tongue past your bottom lip. You held him close to you and kissed him with fervour, not wanting to let go.

His hand trailed down to your soaked core and your breath hitched in your throat. His hand paused. You knew how wet you were, it was embarrassing. But he smirked into your kiss and began kissing down your neck. You leaned your head back and gaped your mouth open as his mouth attached to your nipple.

“Brad,” You moaned, tugging on his wet hair.

He sucked and licked your sensitive nipple while his fingers played with your clit, circling, and applying pressure. You bucked your hips against him and pulled him up to face you again.

“Fuck me, Rooster.” You whined impatiently.

His screwed his face up and practically moaned when he heard his callsign fall from your lips. Suddenly it wasn’t weird hearing it from you. It wasn’t off-putting it was…nice and sexy.

“How would you like me, Lieutenant?” He asked, a cocky smirk on his face.

You bit your lip with a smile and put your hands on his shoulders. You jumped up and he caught you effortlessly and pushed you against the wall.

“Is this alright, sir?” You asked.

“More than alright, ma’am.”

“Fuck me, then.”

He pushed into you with no further convincing needed. You both moaned in sync as he stretched you and allowed you to adjust to him. He pushed some wet hair away from your face and tucked them behind your ears.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n.” He marvelled at you.

You dug your heels into his ass, letting him begin to thrust into you. You didn’t know what to say to him. You just held onto his neck and hoped he’d understand you. He let his head fall forward to the crook of your neck and started lazily kissing your skin. His thrusts were deep and delicious as he grinded up into you. He held onto your thighs and dug his fingernails into your skin.

“Harder, baby.” You groaned.

He grunted against your skin and did as you asked. He pulled his hips back and snapped them hard into you. You cried out, gripping onto him for dear life as he started relentlessly fucking you. His cock drove deep into your tight pussy and every thrust was getting you closer and closer to your peak.

“I need this everyday of my life, now. Never letting you go 24 hours without making you come.” He said to you, lifting his head.

“What about – oh – when we’re – f-fuck – on deployme-ent.” You stuttered.

He smirked and slowed down his thrusts, rolling his hips into you and allowing his tip to graze a spot inside of you that you never knew was there.

“Honey, I can still make you come when we’re not together. Have you heard of an invention called the phone?” He remarked, giving you a small slap to your ass.

You yelped, “You’re too cocky for your own good, Bradshaw.”

He pushed closer to you, and you gasped as his entire length filled you. You furrowed your brows and gripped him even tighter. He smirked at your reaction. You moved your hips against him, letting your clit brush up and down against his pubic hair.

“I’m cocky for a reason, princess.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you nearly came right there. How could he be so fucking dirty and gentle at the same time?

“I hate you.” You groaned.

“I love you, too.” He quipped.

You smiled and he slowly began thrusting into you again, building up a speed.

It didn’t take much time before he had you coming around him, moaning and crying out his name as he pushed you over the edge and fucked you through it. He came just after you, and you held him close as he dug his head into your neck, letting grunts and groans escape his lips. You both needed the relief, and you were just lucky you could both be there to give it to each other.

After the productive shower, you two got dressed back into uniform and left the locker room hand in hand. A kiss was pressed to your forehead as you left and then to your cheek and then to your lips. You giggled against him and attempted to push him off you. If Bates or Simpson – or God forbid your father – found you two making out in uniform, you’d want to die on the spot. He didn’t let you go before pushing you up against the wall and giving you a kiss that was lingering on your lips until the second the carrier hit home.

 -

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[stranger-marauders]

shattered

twelve: the creel house

chapter summary: Steve and Kate deal with the consequences of the night before while searching the Creel house for clues about Vecna.

chapter warnings: language, slight angst

word count: 3.6k

series masterlist | masterlist

THE NEXT MORNING, Kate could faintly hear someone speaking, but she couldn't identify who or where it was coming from.

"Hey, lovebirds, get up."

Kate quickly shot up at the sentence, more confused than anything. What the hell was going on? It wasn't until she sat up that she realized Dustin had been speaking, more specifically to her and Steve. Whenever they'd both finally fallen asleep next to each other, touching no more than by the linking of their hands, Steve had somehow gotten his arms around her, and she had been using him as a pillow, their legs intertwined.

Awkward.

She quickly pulled Steve off of her, trying to get up as quickly as possible so she could quite literally be anywhere else. He quickly became coherent whenever he realized Dustin was still staring at him, almost frightening similar to how his own mother would stare at him whenever he'd done something wrong as a child.

"Steve, get up!"

"All right, Jesus, Henderson!" he shouted back at him, pulling himself off the ground.

He finally met Dustin's eyes again whenever he'd gotten himself straightened out, he found his expression had changed, almost waiting for him to say something about what he'd just seen.

Steve almost couldn't blame him. He still couldn't believe he had been so close to kissing her and he hadn't gotten the chance before Dustin moved, making her pull away. Had she pulled away after the sound or before it? He'd replayed the moment so many times in his head that he was starting to think he was remembering it wrong.

Nonetheless, it wasn't any of Dustin's business, nor anyone else's besides his and Kate's. "Not... a damn... word. Got it?"

Dustin put his hands up in surrender, and Steve went to the bathroom to try to fix his hair as best he could before he wouldn't have the chance to.

Nancy had filled everyone in about Max's discovery in the car ride to Victor Creel's abandoned house.

Whenever she had been possessed by Vecna, Max had seen parts of the house when he'd had her trapped, a more dismantled version of it. She'd drawn pictures of it, and Nancy had pieced together the parts of it that formed the house.

As they pulled up on the boarded-up building, a shiver was sent down Kate's spine—there was a reason why this place was abandoned. What was presumably a beautiful house in the '50s and beforehand, the blue and white building had since been taken back over by vines and such on the first level, the other floors seeming to grow with mold and caked with dirt, not to mention the boarded up windows and door. There wasn't a thing about the place that breathed "welcoming," that's for sure.

Once they'd gotten themselves out of Nancy's car, they stood outside of the building, almost as if they were reassessing going in at all.

"Yeah, that's not creepy," Steve said to no one in particular while looking at Kate.

She shrugged, starting to move toward the house—they had to do this for Max.

Steve and Kate had been the ones to pry the nails off of the wooden panel that covered the door, both having a hammer each as the rest of the group watched.

"I mean, what exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?" he finally said, turning to Nancy behind him before starting to remove nails again.

"We're not sure," Nancy replied. "We just... know this house is important to Vecna."

"Because Max saw it in Vecna's red soup mind world?"

"Basically."

"Great."

"Maybe it holds a clue to where Vecna is. Why he's back. Why he killed the Creels," Dustin explained.

"And, more importantly, how to stop him before he comes back for Max," Kate added.

"We... don't think he's in here, do we?" Lucas asked somewhat worriedly.

"Guess we'll find out," Max said nonchalantly.

Steve looked at Kate, still holding up the panel. "Ready?"

She nodded in response, muttering a quiet "mhm" before they both let it fall to the ground with a loud thud.

Steve tried to open the door by the knob, but found it only rattled in response. "It's locked. Should I knock, see if anybody's home?"

"No need." Kate chuckled when Robin held up a brick. When Steve gave her an unconvinced look, she shrugged. "I found a key."

Steve threw the brick through the glass door, apprehensively looking inside before sticking his hand down to unlock the door and open it. He whistled when he walked inside, waiting for the others to come in behind him.

Robin was the first after him, then Kate, Nancy, and the kids, all holding flashlights in their hands. Kate stepped deeper into the house, trying to get a better look at the insides that wasn't just abandoned furniture, dust, and cobwebs.

Lucas tried turning on one of the lamps as Steve shut the door to the house. "Looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill."

Dustin clicked on his flashlight, and Steve looked at him in confusion. "Where'd everyone get those?"

Dustin turned around to face him, giving him a shocked look. "Do you need to be told everything? You're not a child."

Steve hesitated to respond. "Thank you."

Dustin scoffed, pulling the backpack off his back to hand to him. "Back pocket."

He pulled the last flashlight out of the backpack, letting it drop to the floor whenever he turned it on.

Kate and Robin opened the door to what presumably was their parlor room, scanning over it with their flashlights.

"They just... left everything," Kate said, almost not believing what she was seeing. She couldn't believe that after thirty years, this was what was left.

"I guess a triple homicide isn't good for resale value," Robin replied.

Before she could respond, Max called, "Hey, guys?" Everyone walked over to where Max was standing, looking at what she was shining her flashlight at. "You all see that, right?"

The "that" in question was an old grandfather clock, one that looked like it hadn't seen the light of day presumably since the murders of the Creels.

"Yeah."

"Is... this what you saw?" Nancy asked, taking a step closer to her. "In your... visions?"

Max nodded hesitantly, almost as if she were still being haunted by them.

"I mean, it's... just a clock. Right?" Robin asked, her voice, for the most part, calm and steady. She walked around Max to get closer to the clock, trying to inspect it. She wiped the glass face off, dust caking her hand. She turned back to the rest of the group. "Like a normal old clock."

"Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?" Steve asked. "Maybe he's, like, a clockmaker or something?"

"I think you cracked the case, Steve," Dustin replied sarcastically.

Steve turned to him sharply, giving him a pointed look—now was not the time to be poking fun at his detective skills.

"All I know is... the answers are here," Nancy said. "Somewhere. Okay, everyone stay in groups of two. Max, you're with me."

"Rob, upstairs," Kate said, grabbing her by the arm as she headed toward the staircase.

"Come on, let's go," Max said to Lucas, making him follow her.

Steve and Dustin exchanged glances, Steve's bitter and Dustin's content. Steve only sighed as he started to climb up the stairs.

"Why'd you sigh?"

"I didn't sigh," Steve said, already halfway up the stairs. "Just come on, dude."

"I heard you!"

"W–We're just always partners, okay?"

"What, you have a problem with that?"

"It'd just be nice to, I don't know, mix it up a bit." More specifically, Steve wanted to be with Kate.

"So what, I'm boring you? Is that it?"

"That is—No, the opposite—"

As they argued their way up to the second floor, Steve and Dustin had completely missed the evergrowing luminescence of the light fixture next to the staircase.

Kate and Robin had already swept part of the upper story for anything interesting or of importance.

"I don't know if I'm late to the party, but did anyone ever think that maybe this asshole isn't... I don't know, doesn't come from the Upside Down?"

Robin gave her a funny look. "What do you mean?"

Kate shrugged, still looking in front of her. "I don't know, maybe this thing is from here. Our universe, dimension, whatever." She turned around to look at Robin, who now looked even more confused, and she sighed. "Look, as far as we know, my sister is the only person to have ever opened a gate, right?" When Robin nodded, Kate continued. "So why did this Vecna dude just randomly kill a family never to be heard of again before now? He's... He's gotta be from here. Has to be."

"But isn't he in the Upside Down right now?" she asked. "How... How would he still be alive?"

Kate shrugged. "Haven't gotten that far into it." She looked back to Robin again for only a second. She didn't know how to say she thought it had something to do with her sister. "Look, it's just a theory, okay? I just... It's stupid. It doesn't matter. Forget I said anything."

Robin nodded, seeming to finally understand her point. Maybe she wasn't that far off. As Kate led them into another room, Robin posed a question of her own. "Hey, why'd you pick me? I mean, I'm honored, but I'm confused as to why you picked me over..." Steve. "I don't know. Anyone else?"

"Because you and I've always made a great team, Rob," Kate answered, scanning the area she shined with her flashlight. "We translated a Russian code when neither of us spoke Russian, remember?"

"And as convincing as that sounds, I am one hundred percent sure that that is not the case."

Kate turned back to Robin, giving her a questionable look. "What d'you mean?"

"As incredible of a team we make, you and I both know you picked me before someone else could pick you."

She stopped in her tracks, sighing softly. "That's not... true."

Robin took a step closer to her, almost as if she were scared to get too close. "I know it's difficult to accept, but he, very obviously, still has feelings for you. A lot of them. I mean, we all saw you guys this morning—"

"You all saw it?"

She gave a nod, almost smiling. "Yeah, we all saw you two adorably snuggled up against each other, so don't even try to deny you don't still have feelings for him, too."

Kate didn't respond, but it only reminded her of the kiss that almost happened the night before. She wished she wouldn't have pulled away. Their lips had been so close she could feel the heat radiating off of him. She wished she would've closed to gap sooner, just for everything to feel right for just a moment. She knew, however, that it wasn't fair to do that to Steve. She had cut things off and she had to respect that, even if she wanted to, mor than anything, be with him again, because she couldn't do that to him. Not again.

"Kate?"

She shook her head, almost attempting to pull herself out of her own thoughts. She started walking forward again, her flashlight lighting her path. "Let's keep going, okay? I hate this house."

When Robin followed behind her, this time, she didn't ask any questions, especially not about the boy that was just down the hall from them.

Steve wished he would've said something before he got stuck with Dustin.

It wasn't like he was stuck with Dustin. He loved Dustin, even if the kid had started loving Eddie Munson more than him. Nothing, however, would make up for the fact that he could've been alone with Kate right now, had almost been given a moment to talk to her alone despite everything else going on.

He wanted to ask her about that damn kiss. Really, it was a non-kiss, a close-to-a-kiss, but it had still happened. That was the closest thing he'd felt to right since she'd broken up with him in terms of girls, and he didn't want to just give it up now, not if she felt the same way.

For that reason, he hated that he was stuck with Dustin.

"I get why you freaked out about Nancy the other day now," Dustin finally said, breaking the silence between them.

Steve turned to look at him, giving him a confused look. "What?"

"She was the only girl you ever really liked besides Kate. You were just projecting—"

"What? No, that's not—" Steve cut himself off, trying to collect himself. If he got flustered, that would only make things worse. "It's not... like that."

"It certainly looked like that this morning."

"It's not that simple, Henderson," Steve warned. He didn't want to talk about it with anyone but her.

"Of course not. Because things have always been so simple between you and Kate."

"Will you shut up about Kathy, please?" he whispered somewhat harshly. "You're being... We broke up months ago, why would I—" He cut himself off to sigh. "For your information, I've gone out with other girls since then. A lot of them."

"And none of them have been her, have they?"

That's what hurt even more. Dustin was right: even Nancy hadn't even been close to what Kate had given him. Even if she was still broken, still a husk of what she used to be, he still loved her and would love every form of her. He hadn't even minded all that much when she'd pulled a gun on him again, almost hesitating to put it down. He hadn't minded her shutting him out, only because he knew she wanted space. He hadn't nor wouldn't mind anything that she would throw at him because she was her. He wished, more than anything, that he could make everything better for her, to tell her that he loved her and make it all go away, he knew he couldn't. Kate had pushed him away, and for now, there was no coming back from that. All he could do was be there for her as best he could—that or keep the kids from bothering her.

"Hey, uh, Henderson?" he finally asked to break the silence again, following him into what presumably was a bedroom.

"Yeah?"

"Could you maybe, uh... clarify what sort of clues we're supposed to be looking for here?"

Dustin stopped in his tracks, not turning to Steve as he spoke, more specifically in a British accent. "'The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.'" Dustin turned around to look at Steve with a smile, which he immediately dropped whenever Steve gave him a confused look. "Sherlock Holmes." Dustin scoffed, walking away whenever his expression didn't change.

"That's great," Steve finally said, walking in the direction opposite of him and moving toward the bathroom. "Thanks. That's great. Really helpful." Whenever Dustin was far enough away, he mumbled to himself, "Sherlock..."

He shined his flashlight over the vent in the floor, something inside of the vent reflecting the light. Curiosity got the best of him, and he kneeled down next to it, pulling the cover off and reaching his hand down to grab one of the many jars at the bottom of it.

Steve didn't know what to think of the jar he'd picked up: leaves filled the bottom of it, and a spider lay dead on some of the branches from those leaves, cobwebs dusting the limbs. He started to set it back down when he felt something crawling on him, turning to find a spider on his shoulder.

He jumped back up quickly and dropped the jar on the tile floor, gasping as he tried brushing it off of him frantically. He ran backward into the hallway, walking through the bathroom doorway and getting even more cobwebs all over him as he tried to brush the spider off.

"Jesus Christ," Kate breathed, jumping as Steve manically tried to brush himself off in front of her—he'd almost collided with her in the hallway. "Wh–What the hell are you doing? What's wrong?"

"There was a spider," he said softly, still rubbing his hand against his arm to make sure it was gone. He almost sounded out of breath as he spoke. "It was a black widow." Whenever he turned around, shining his flashlight in front of him, he quickly closed the door to the bathroom he'd just come out of. "Don't go in there."

"Okay? Oh, shit," Kate responded, finally seeing the mess of cobwebs that he'd gotten into his hair. She tried pulling some of it out, but Steve ran his fingers through it, starting to move forward as if he were trying to walk away from her. "Wait, just..."

"What?" Steve said, walking in front of a dusty mirror with his voice still panicked. "Something? Shit. O–Okay."

"Wait. Stop moving!" she said, making him stop in front of the mirror and attempting to pull the cobwebs out of his hair. "Stop. I just... I got it. I got it. Just stand still. Don't move."

"Thank you."

"If there's a spider nesting in there, you're never gonna find it til it lays eggs and all the babies spill out," Robin said evasively, trying to freak Steve out even more.

"What's wrong with you?" Steve asked as Kate pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh.

Robin only chuckled in response.

"Robin, seriously!" Steve turned his head so Kate could start pulling at the cobwebs again, and she tried her best to not start laughing, pressing her lips together tightly. "She's got problems."

"Yeah, tell me about it. She should've just said we were gonna have to shave your head."

"Kathy, that's not funny, okay? Seriously."

"To you," she said, chuckling slightly. "You would've freaked out, though, and it would've been hilarious."

"Do you... Do you both just enjoy torturing me or something?" he asked, somewhat bitterly.

"No! No, it's not that, it's just..." She stifled a laugh. "You're just really particular about your hair, Steve. You're an easy target."

He scoffed, almost running his hands through his hair, but he stopped himself. "It's cool you two still talk. That you're, like... I don't know, still friends. Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him... you know, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something." Steve turned to the side, almost as if he were trying to see her better. "You know? Me, you, Robin, Nance if she's down. Jonathan when he's back." Steve hesitated to go on, almost as if he were waiting for her response.

"Yeah, maybe you could bring one of those girls you've been going out with," Kate said nonchalantly. She hadn't meant it as a dig, but she wanted to slap herself after she'd said it.

"It's not like we're dating. Me and—I'm not dating any of them. Not really. Right? Robin told you? I'm not dating Robin either, so—"

"Yeah, I know," Kate said softly, still picking the cobwebs out of his hair. "That's... very obvious. I think I have a better chance with her than you do."

"Platonic with a capital P!" Robin said from down the hall.

"Yep. Thank you," Steve said loud enough for Robin to hear.

She put a thumbs up in response, still looking away from Kate and Steve.

"I mean... I don't know. I just—I don't only want to see you when the world's about to end, you know?" He paused. "I miss you."

Kate pressed her lips together again for a moment, almost as if she were thinking about how to word something. "Maybe... Maybe you could come visit sometime. Rob, too. Get out of Hawkins for a while."

He smiled. "Yeah, yeah, maybe."

She pulled the last cobweb out of his hair, taking a deep breath and smiling. "Okay, your hair's been saved. No buzzcut needed."

He fluffed it out in the back once, turning back around to her. "Great. Thanks." He chuckled, taking a step closer to her. "Well... Great. Um..." He stared at her awkwardly, almost not knowing what to say. What was he supposed to say after that? "Guess we should, uh... get back to the investigation."

Kate nodded in response, pressing her lips together still so as to try not to smile.

"The obvious things are not what... people... observe. Or... Do... Don't observe. Or...," he said, trying to remember what the hell Dustin said about five minutes before. When Kate gave him a confused look, he stopped as to not make even more of a fool out of himself, nodding. "Sherlock Holmes."

Kate couldn't help but smile at him as he walked away, almost dumbstruck as she walked toward Robin. "What?"

And once again, Kate couldn't help but smile because of the stupid antics of the boy just down the hall from her.

next chapter

taglist:

@thatsonezesty13 @cece5298 @thepowerstoner @alovelytardis @coolchick333 @stand-tall-pineapple @littlet-holmes @guichu @cinderellacauseshebroke @blackbirddaredevil23 @mads-weasley @ilovemarauders @pearlstiare @liableperfections @khaylin27 @girlwiththerubyslippers @cyarikaaa

[flusteredloser]

sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter. 

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets. 

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.” 

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?” 

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal. 

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.”  “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?”  she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair. 

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry. 

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling. 

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed. 

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.” 

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence. 

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.” 

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...” 

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends. 

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan). 

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...” 

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.” 

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening. 

“i- no. that was it.”  

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right? 

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous. 

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his. 

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red. 

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud. 

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face. 

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say. 

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face.  fuck.  “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent. 

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze. 

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?” 

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡