#i think its because i had that breakdown in front of her before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queenimmadolla · 2 years ago

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Summary: After making a scene and storming out of Eddie's trailer, you're left to wonder if you even have a boyfriend anymore, since he hasn't spoken to you in three days.

a/n: congratulations. you bitches wore me down. you all know how much i HATE angst with no happy endings so enjoy me fixing it.

��𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

word count: 3.3k

It’d been days since the fight in Eddie’s trailer. Days.

You were mad as hell when you’d left, so mad you almost appeared calm. You’d angrily cried on the drive back home, hot tears leaking steadily past your lashes as you scowled and you were sure they left a trail of mascara behind.

You’d dodged your mother when you got home, unwilling to face the barrage of questions she’d send your way that would no doubt trigger a breakdown. The last thing you needed was anyone asking if you were okay.

Besides, you thought you’d be fine. Eddie would get the point, come to his senses and be at your front door a little past dinner to apologize for hurting your feelings.

You’d composed yourself to the best of your ability while you ate, forking the food on your plate down with the excuse of having not had lunch when your mother started questioning you and then hurried back upstairs to your room.

Your landline was plucked from its place on your nightstand drawer and set on your bed in front of you. When half an hour passed, you assumed Eddie was still wrestling with his pride. When half an hour turned into an hour and a half, you started wondering if maybe he was still cooling down from the argument. He’d call.

By 2 a.m., the tears were back and speeding effortlessly from the corners of your eyes, down the bridge of your nose to meet your pillowcase as you realized he wasn’t going to call.

He didn’t call the next day, either. Or the day after that.

The two of you weren’t in school anymore, so you couldn’t track him down in the halls but you didn’t want to go find him. You wanted him to come find you, you wanted him to chase after you when you left his trailer, you wanted him to call you and tell you he loved you and you wanted him to not bring girls who wanted him the way you did over to his trailer.

You wanted Eddie. But you wouldn’t go crawling back, your heart may have been wailing in agony but your pride was howling at you, wounded and bleeding.

Were you broken up? You hadn’t intended for your exit to be the end, but by day three, you were starting to get the feeling it was over.

And despite how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t rot in bed. You had responsibilities, a job. You’d called into the arcade the first two days but you couldn’t put it off forever, couldn’t avoid leaving your house because you feared running into Eddie.

Yes, you were desperate to see him, but under your specific conditions. What if you ran into him and he confirmed the two of you were over? What if he was with that girl you’d seen leaving the trailer? He said he’d given her a deal for flirting with him, had it progressed? Was he rebounding?

The more you thought about it, the more sad you got. Samantha Stone, your former lab partner and current co-worker had stepped in to awkwardly comfort you when you kept dipping into the back room to cry and eventually sent you home with the promise she could handle the riveting crowd of three plaguing the arcade.

You’d kicked off your shoes and thrown your bag onto the floor the moment you got into your room, but you hadn’t changed, just fell face first onto your bed as your tears mingled with your comforter.

And that’s how you found yourself thinking about how long it had been since that damn fight. Maybe you were overreacting. Sure, Eddie had been a little intimidating in high school, but he’d also had no trouble in the romance department. He’d told you he’d been cynical about it, since it never went beyond sex, but he’d also said that had been before you had looked twice at him.

Unfortunately for you, the stupid ass curse that comes with having a boyfriend struck you. Now that Eddie had a girlfriend, all of a sudden he was a wanted man, even more so than he had been in the past.

You’d seen girls overstep, had been waiting for him in the van during a deal while you watched one reach a hand out to caress his arm and it had taken everything in you to not storm out of the van to tear the offending appendage off and beat her silly with it.

Maybe you really were just blowing things out of proportion because of your jealousy. Maybe you owed Eddie the apology. Would he even accept your apology? It had been days, after all. Maybe he’d take you back if you groveled. Tears were a no brainer, you were pretty emotional and aware you were in a somewhat manic state, so they’d come the moment you caught sight of him again. Your feelings, your love for him, and this stupid mess would overwhelm you.

You glanced at your phone, still poised on your bed and taunting you without a single ring. Your mother would have mentioned it if he called. He hadn’t.

You wanted Eddie.

That singular sentence plagued you, wrapping around your heart over and over again, constricting like a boa until you felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were about to have a heart attack. You could hear the loud and insistent banging that was your heartbeat, beating in time with your much too fast breaths.

Eddie was the last thing you thought of before you shut down, body allowing exhaustion to overcome you to stop your impending panic attack.

You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, eyes prying open to your room shrouded in darkness. A lazy glance at the window confirmed night had fallen and you sagged further into your bedding, sighing when you remembered you’d fallen asleep in your work uniform which meant you couldn’t slip back under the veil of rest and peace until you’d gotten out of it.

You sat up, fingers gripping onto the hem of your shirt to lift it.

A flash of movement at the foot of your bed caught your attention just before you raised your shirt over your head and you nearly had a heart attack as you fell back, quickly reaching for your lamp.

The warm glow of it illuminated the room and revealed Eddie standing near the foot of your bed, hands up to show he meant no harm.

“Sorry,” he gave a brief huff of laughter, mouth pulled into a nervous smile, “didn’t mean to scare you. Your mom let me in.”

Your heart calmed instantly at the sight of him, but your anxiety made its presence known, sinking into your belly.

He’s here to break up with you, it whispered.

You pulled your shirt back down, smoothing it out to give you something to do. Suddenly, you were incapable of words, nonverbal as your mouth refused to part. Your heart had won the battle with your pride and was desperate to beg him to forgive you for overreacting, would say anything to get him to hold you but you were paralyzed.

Eddie cleared his throat, a hand reaching up to scratch his head before he sat down on the edge of your bed and you took him in.

The most apparent difference in his appearance was the dullness of his eyes and the bags under them. Eddie was usually so full of life, an eccentric being buzzing with a sort of energy at all times, even when he was pretending to be the cool, collected bad boy. Now, he looked tired. And he had a light dusting of scruff on his jaw and cheeks.

Eddie never had facial hair. Hated it. He’d tried it out once, he wasn’t fond of not being able to feel your kisses directly against his skin, and it made him itchy so it didn't last long.

He shaved everyday to make sure he could feel your lips on him and the reminder made tears pool at your waterline once more.

“Look, I─”

“I’m sorry!” You rushed out, cutting him off as emotion muddled your voice and made your throat thick with it. The tears followed, just as you’d predicted they would when confronted by Eddie, “I’m so sorry, you were right, I was overreacting! I was just jealous, you can bring whoever you want to your trailer, I know it’s just business. I was just stupid and jealous and upset, you were right to not call me, and I’m sorry!”

Eddie’s mouth parted, eyebrows rising in bewilderment.

Then he was kicking off his shoes and climbing onto your bed, softly hushing you as he pulled you into his arms and you sobbed against his shirt, relieved to finally have Eddie back.

You hadn’t thought he’d ever hold you again so you clung to him like a lifeline.

Eddie held you tight, hand rubbing comfortingly over your back as he pressed kiss after kiss to your head and nuzzled his face there, trying to make sense of what was happening.

After you’d left, he’d trashed his room. Well, more so than its usual state. He’d wanted you to come right back after you stormed out, was hoping you would—but like an idiot, Eddie just stared at the door as his mind replayed the entire conversation, emphasizing the moment he’d crossed the line. By the time he finally snapped out of his stupor and ran out after you, you were gone.

Eddie was frustrated with himself, so he took it out on his room. When that was done, he’d grabbed a beer from the fridge, a joint from his stash and got crossed on the couch out front as he thought about the fight.

He had no interest in anyone who wasn’t you. None. And for some reason, you didn’t understand just how much he loved you, how not a singular fucking person on this giant rock could compare to you. Not Cindy Crawford, not Pam Grier, not Irene Cara, not a single member of Metallica, no one.

You were Eddie’s favorite person. You were his person.

And he made you feel like shit. The longer he thought about it, the guiltier he felt. It was easy to write off your behavior as jealousy, but your jealousy hadn’t been unwarranted.

He couldn’t see the big deal about having her pick up weed from his place since she’d phoned to let him know she was already in the area, but when he imagined some random guy coming out of your home, you walking him out?

Eddie saw red. The thought alone knocked the air out of him and it was a feeling he was keen to not experience.

But you had. And instead of just owning up to his slip of the mind, he’d stuck to his guns and had promptly shot himself in the metaphorical foot, not before hurting you. You were upset, and you lashed out when you got like that. Eddie had realized a long time ago that you only made digs like that because you wanted him to tell you you were wrong without having to ask him.

Only, Eddie hadn’t told you that no, he didn’t give her a deal for being ‘pretty and flirty’ as you’d accused. She had been flirty—yes, he felt even more guilty when he thought about it—but he’d been blunt and brief, exchanging the bag of nugs for cash before he was sending her back the way she came. You’d just been on the other side of the door when he’d opened it for her to leave.

It looked fucking terrible. How the hell was he supposed to make this up to you??? He’d spent the remainder of the night lingering near the phone, picking it up and then putting it back on the receiver. Nothing he could think of was a worthy enough apology for you, and he assumed you didn’t even want to see him. Fuck, you’d been so upset.

He ended up passing out on the couch.

The next few days went the same, he tried to figure out what to say, how to to explain himself and dove for the phone anytime it rang. It was never you, but of course it was when Eddie was desperate to hear your voice on the other end of the line that all his usual customers had run out of weed and other things.

And she had called.

Eddie wasn’t stupid, she’d smoked with him and a group of friends at a party once, she hacked up her lungs and coughed herself into delirium after one pull; there was no way she’d finished what Eddie had supplied to her that quickly. It certainly didn’t help that she knew Eddie had you, and she still kept up the flirting. You were right, Eddie knew what she was trying to do and he was a shit boyfriend for not turning her down outright. Eddie had nipped that problem in the bud over the phone.

In his desperation, he’d done multiple drives by the arcade, too. You were never behind the counter, only that gothic chick that liked to curse people was.

He got anxious fast, hoping like hell that you hadn’t broken up with him. When it became too much for Eddie, who missed seeing your beautiful face, he caved in and drove to your house, despite the fact that you might not want to see him. When your mom let him in instead of throwing pots and pans at him like he’d imagined she would, Eddie figured you hadn’t told her about the fight which gave him hope.

Maybe you did still want him.

There was no light under your bedroom door and when he knocked you hadn’t answered but Eddie walked in anyways, heart clenching at the sight of you sprawled on your bed asleep.

God, how he’d missed you.

Eddie found himself blinking back tears as he stared down at you. It was selfish of him, but he really wanted to wake you up, touch you, hold you, kiss you.

And then he realized he was at your house uninvited, in your room, watching you while you slept. Could he get any fucking creepier? Jesus…

Eddie had been in the middle of pacing a circle in your carpet, trying to play out how this conversation would go when you stirred and he froze.

Then you sat up and he got a little excited when you started taking your shirt off, but Eddie was aware of how bad this could go if he didn’t announce his presence.

You hadn’t started yelling at him like he expected, no. What you did was worse. You were apologizing.

He’d been inconsiderate, he’d put himself in a situation that would look bad to literally anyone who saw him knowing he was in a relationship, had hurt your feelings—even more so because you’d apparently been waiting for him, wanting him this whole time and he’d just been holed up in the trailer, phone in hand but never dialing.

“Baby,” he mumbled against your head, leaning back and moving his hands to frame your face, thumbs wiping your tears away as he angled your head up at him so you could see the sincerity on his face, in his eyes, “you have nothing to be sorry for.”

You hiccuped and started, “But I─”

“Shh, no. Let me say this okay?” Eddie waited for you to nod and when you did, he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead and another to the tip of your nose.

“You didn't overreact or do anything wrong, sweetheart. You were right. I knew exactly how she felt, and while I promise you I had no intentions of letting anything happen, I still shouldn’t have had her over. If the roles were reversed, I would’ve been jealous, mad, and really hurt. She called, tried to come over again and I told her I’m in love with you and I’m not interested in her. If she needs to replenish her supply, she’ll have to get it from Rick from now on. And I’ve never given her a deal. The only person who gets free weed is you, pretty girl.”

You sniffled and his thumb stroked over your cheek once more. He added, “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings and I’m sorry I didn’t call. I wanted to, so badly, but I didn’t know what to say or if you even wanted me to. I've been dying to see you, drove past the arcade a ton of times just to see if I could get a glimpse of you—your coworker, the scary one, flipped me the bird whenever she saw me, by the way.”

That got a laugh out of you and Eddie grinned victoriously, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours, “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Your gaze dropped from his eyes, the brown in them now swirling with warmth, to his lips, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh, baby. You don’t ever have to ask.” Eddie didn’t wait for you to make the first move, closing the small distance to press a deep, chaste kiss to your lips. Once you were returning his kiss, he got a little more insistent, you realized this was Eddie’s way of asking for reassurance and you were more than willing to give it to him, parting your lips so your tongues could meet again.

The two of you made out on your bed at a leisurely pace as you reaffirmed your love for each other. When things got heated, and you soon found yourself on your back with Eddie on top of you and between your legs, he pulled away from your mouth with a smack, and winced.

“I really want to have makeup sex, baby, but I’m about to pass out. I haven’t been sleeping well.” Rarely has Eddie slept without you, add in you being upset with him and he could barely sleep at all. The last thing he wanted to do was pass out while he was inside you and leave you unsatisfied.

You laughed, pulling him down for another kiss, “That's okay. We can fuck in the morning.”

Eddie let out the most pornographic moan at the mental image and you laughed again as you shushed him, “Eddie! My mom will hear you!”

Reluctantly he rolled off you to undress, yanking off his pants while you shimmied out of yours, pulled your shirt off and discarded your bra. When Eddie yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it towards the ground, you’d intercepted it and pulled it over your own head.

Eddie gave you a very appreciative onceover before he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will his hard-on away, “Down, boy.”

You snuggled up to his side, and he pulled you into his arms, throwing your blanket over the both of you and letting out a sigh of content as you nuzzled your face into his neck, “Fuck, I missed this. Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, Eds.”

“Next time you get mad at me, I’m sitting on the hood of your car so you can’t leave.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Or maybe you can just kick my ass instead of leaving.”

“No, I like it too much.”

Eddie’s chest shook with quiet laughter and you smiled, eyes fluttering shut.

This time, when sleep finally overcame you, your heart wasn’t in pain or beating loudly in your ears. It was nestled against you, and snoring into your hair.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson blurb #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

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strlingsav · 2 years ago

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I’m simply in love with your portrayal of Simon/Ghost. This fandom has so many incredibly talented writers, I am glad I stumbled upon your work! Your interpretation of his character is among my favourites 🥰 if it interests you, I would like to request a comfort fic w a femme reader who is perhaps not active on the field herself, but more on the intelligence/IT side of the operations (you can totally change this if you want, it’s up for your interpretation!) who is capable but suffers from insecurity and imposters sydrome (yep I am totally projecting🤫🤐) and during a mental breakdown bc of the stress from work, Ghost of all people, who she previously has only seen during a few briefings and never has approached bc of his intimidating reputation, finds her. Cue to the stoic scary big man who has previously only stared her down turning out to be actually very supportive and appreciative of her work because he always has noticed her. It’s up to you if want to keep it sfw or not! But a dash of softdom/service top sprinkled w some praise kink wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world🥴 I would love to see your take on this if this idea interests you, and it’s totally fine if it doesn’t 🥰 it’s always a pleasure to read your work regardless! Have a good one! ✌🏻💕

Thank you very much!! I appreciate that very much 🥹🫶🏻 I can definitely do this!

Support

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Ghost stumbles upon you, after-hours, during a breakdown.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

It was approaching two in the morning. You were running solely on caffeine and nicotine- neither of which were helping your dry eyes or headache. The light of your monitors was the only source in the room, completely enshrouded by darkness as you stared blankly at the screens. You'd hoped it would help you focus, think more clearly, but so far it had only isolated you further, brought nothing but pressure and stress.

It wasn't supposed to be difficult, it was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be easy for you. You'd studied computer technology and engineering for years- built and coded programs for organizations all over the world. You'd worked within the military for nearly a decade, providing the most proficient and reliable support among your similarly-rated peers. You were quite literally an expert, but you didn't feel like it. Not with the unfinished assignment sitting before you.

Laswell, Price, the entirety of 141- they relied on you. They relied heavily on your abilities to guide them through their fieldwork, to do the digging they couldn't reach while on location. Though, as you leaned back in your chair, your lip red and raw with irritation, your back aching, you didn't feel reliable. You felt the familiar sting of failure, of total disappointment.

It bubbled up in your throat, escaping in a series of curses, shoving yourself away from the desk before you wound up damaging thousands of dollars of equipment. You paced, stared, and paced. Your mind swimming with questions, re-thinking every sequence, every key, every exhaustive search you could possibly pull- and still hadn't decrypted the data.

Your hand slammed down on the desk, scattering the pens and piles of paperwork you'd accumulated over the many hours you'd spent stewing in front of the code screen. The cursor blinked at you- waiting, taunting you, filling you with dread.

"Y'alright in here?"

A gruff voice pulled you from your anxious stupor, and you yanked your hand from the desk, gasping sharply. You looked up, finding Ghost at the doorway.

In the dark, you could hardly make out his silhouette, but the outline of his mask was a stark contrast against the pitch-black room.

"Didn't mean t'scare you," He said, taking a few steps forward. "Heard somethin' in here."

You let out a sigh, your heartbeat relaxing back into its regular rhythm.

You'd heard his voice before, usually over the comms, and seen him during briefings, but you'd never spoken in person. You knew he had a reputation for being tough and commanding; it put you on edge watching his looming figure in the darkness. He was undeniably intimidating, especially as he stalked toward you.

You stepped back, letting him around the desk to see your monitors.

"You're up late," He said, examining the screen.

"Trying to decode this shit," You huffed, forgetting about his domineering presence once you refocused on your failure. "It's taking me longer than it should."

"Looks complicated," He replied, his eyes meeting yours briefly.

"It is. It shouldn't be, but it is," You sighed again, sitting down as he looked over your shoulder.

"How long you been at this?"

You ignored his question, leaning in to further examine the code screen.

"It's late. You should sleep, get back to it in the mornin'."

You furrowed your brows, looking over your shoulder to find him closer than expected.

"I don't need sleep," You shook your head. "I need to figure this out. I'm close."

An epiphany sparked in your head- a brute force attack you hadn't yet tried. You quickly typed in the keys, waiting with baited breath as the screen paused.

A flickering script reading 'denied' came across your screen, typed out in front of you for confirmation. Validation that you'd failed, again.

"Fuck!" You shouted, cradling your head in your hands. "I-I can't figure this shit out, I can't do it." Your voice broke, hoarse with strain.

You looked up at him, your eyes now watery with frustration and anger.

"'Ey," He said, leaning forward. "Relax. I dunno much about this shite, but seems you're doin' alright."

You tilted your head. "Laswell needs these documents for Shepherd tomorrow, and I've got nothing to show for it. It'll be my ass getting dismissed. It's not alright."

"Shepherd can wait," He said. "You've saved our arses more than a few times."

"It's not enough."

"It's more than enough. Relax, you're givin' me a bloody headache."

"I can't relax," You looked up at him with blood-shot eyes.

"If anyone can do it, 't's you. Seen you handle worse than this." He gestured to the screen, a flippant motion.

You sucked in a deep breath, nodding slowly. You were more than shocked to hear the comforting words from Ghost. A man revered for his deadly hands, ferocity. The irony made you giggle, short and quiet, though he heard it.

"What's funny?" He asked, moving to lean against the desk.

"Just didn't expect you to be so supportive. Appreciative."

"I see what you do," His gaze was unwavering as he stared you down. "Couldn't do it m'self. Owe you my life, if not more."

"Not quite," You quirked up a brow.

"Yeah- quite. Raid in Las Almas, no other escape routes, Price called you in and we were on the way out in minutes."

You bit your cheek, nodding slowly, your eyes shutting as you digested his words. He was right- you'd done your fair share of evac and location support, never losing a soldier. Regardless of how horribly the assignment was going, you couldn't deny only you had the capacity to complete it.

"Thanks," You nodded, looking up at him. "I'm just in my head, stressed out."

He cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter.

You leaned back, grabbing a cigarette from the nearly-empty pack on the desk, and lighting it up.

"You want one?" You asked, offering him the package.

He took one, offering a quiet, "Cheers."

He lifted the cover of his mask up above his nose- it took every ounce of strength not to immediately watch his lips as he stuck the cigarette between them. Even then, your eyes glanced at the newly-discovered flesh, diverting your gaze when he locked eyes with you.

You inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine coat your lungs, before exhaling into the monitors before you.

"Should get some sleep," He said, standing up.

"Yeah," You nodded, shifting to lean forward. "Yeah, I will. Just a bit longer."

He sighed, bringing his gloved hand down on the keyboard.

"I'll break it in half if I need to," He said, his voice low and threatening.

You swallowed, raising your brows at the unexpected reaction.

"Alright," You huffed.

You stood to your feet, putting your cigarette out on the ashtray beside your mouse. He did the same, arms folding over his chest as he waited for you to leave your station.

His adamant opposition to letting you continue was admirable. Attractive, even. You hadn't anticipated feeling grateful, or happy to have had him find you.

You'd kept your distance from him, though you'd always find your eyes gravitating toward his. He'd already be staring, watching you from across the briefing room. At first, you'd been terrified, wondering if you'd done something to piss him off, but nothing ever came of it. Instead, he'd lift his head to find you, check over his shoulder to look at you.

He found you intriguing, attractive. A brilliant woman; smart, educated, someone he was glad to have on his team. He'd seen the countless hours you put in, the calm tone of your voice every time there was a stress signal from one of the men. You held it together for them- the least he could do was the same for you.

He liked the way your eyes studied the screen, the way you'd chew your lip raw. Though it wasn't in your best interest, he found it alluring. His mind wandered when he'd see you, nothing appropriate at all- only to satisfy the heat that curled itself inside his intestines when he laid his eyes on you.

He remembered seeing you for the first time, wondering who you were: laptop on the desk, pen in hand, bright-eyed and eager to please. Immediately, he'd fabricated images of you in his mind- images that he'd play through during the lonely hours of the night.

"Why are you up?" You asked suddenly.

"Couldn't sleep. Don't sleep much."

You shook your head, "And yet, you're lecturing me." A small smile lifted your lips.

"For your own good," He answered.

"That's interesting," You mumbled.

"Why's that?"

You breathed in, "You've only ever stared me down, don't think we've had a conversation before."

"Y'can say a lot without talkin'," He retorted.

"I wasn't sure whether you wanted to fuck me or kill me," You grinned.

"What's the consensus?"

"Still not sure," You held back a grin.

"Would've killed you by now."

You laughed, "That's not very comforting."

"Should be. Only leaves the former."

He moved closer, standing up straight as he unhooked his legs.

You were pleasantly surprised, though your nerves had been roused from their short slumber. Heat washed over your cheeks, climbing up your spine before returning to the crest of your thighs.

"Think y'could use some stress relief," He said. "Y'seem pent-up."

You pulled your lip between your teeth, your eyes shifting between his. It was tempting, more than your mortal being could possibly resist.

"Maybe," You uttered, your hands twitching with anxiety as he neared you.

He cocked his head, "Maybe ain't an answer."

"Yes," You blurted. "I could. But not if you're taking pity on me."

He chuckled, a sound you'd never heard before from him, though it was somewhat deformed. Amusement and disbelief rather than enjoyment.

"Sweetheart," He cooed, his chest nearly pressed against yours. "It ain't pity. Y'should know better."

"We'll, you're not exactly approachable," You said, tilting your head to meet his gaze. "Haven't had the pleasure of speaking with you before."

He nodded, "S'alright," He said. "Had enough o' watchin' from afar, though."

You breathed out, long and cathartic as it passed your lips. Releasing every worry and anxiety, relieved to be able to focus solely on him- on Ghost.

His hand reached your waist, softly pulling you into him, finally connecting your bodies. You let out a quiet grunt, your hands raised at your sides as you took in the feeling of his body against yours.

"Y'can touch me," He grinned. "I won't bite 'less you ask."

As if you weren't already aroused, soaking your panties, he only made it worse. The heat of his hands on your waist had drawn out any thoughts in your head, his voice so close- so clear in front of you was mesmerizing.

You apprehensively moved your hands to rest on his shoulders, your palms gliding against the taught muscles, another extended sigh as you tried to ignore the burning in your gut. He liked the contact, your small hands searing a brand into his skin.

He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes raking over your face, the face he'd seen in his dreams more than anywhere else. He must've made a pact with the devil, something sacrificed to have you in his hands- finally.

He leaned in, soft lips touching yours. It was fleeting, the softness, before he backed you against the desk with no regard for the equipment on it. Still, his lips held your attention, his tongue gliding between your lips to clash against yours. It was open-mouthed, messy, especially as he lifted you to the desk and bullied himself between your thighs.

You moaned faintly when his hand slid down your side, taking a handful of your ass and squeezing harshly. His other hand worked your shirt off your torso, parting only for a moment when the fabric passed your neck. His hands on your bare skin created a feeling of tightness in your gut- especially as he squeezed and grabbed at you, truly appreciating the curves of your body against him.

To your chagrin, he was still fully clothed, in his fatigues, like he lived in them. Even at two A.M., the man never quit. You weren't complaining; you rather liked the sight of his fitted uniform, especially as it squeezed his forearms and thighs, showing the bulk of muscle and veins beneath tattooed skin.

You were antsy, however, to feel him. All of him, against you.

"Take it off," You whispered against his lips, tugging at his jacket with clenched fists.

"Bossy woman you are," He teased, pulling away as he unbuttoned the shirt.

"I know what I want," You shot back, your eyes now narrowed in on him.

He hummed, satisfied with your answer. "That so?"

You nodded, smug and prideful, a sense of power- you had complete control. Your hands supported your weight behind you, leaning back, watching the show as he stripped from the shirt. It fell off his torso, revealing the toned muscles beneath, and he yanked the other sleeve off with impatience.

Your jaw was slack, looking over him as he neared again. This time, his hand slid up your throat, gripping the delicate area with a firm hold. He forced your eyes to meet his, a noticeable grin on his lips.

"You listen to me, sweetheart," He said, in your face. "And I'll take care o'you. Spread your legs."

You shivered, an audible gasp leaving your lips. The things you'd have done to hear filthy words leave his mouth- the voice that rung in your ears at night, made your pussy flutter. Now, he'd offered his services to you, rather enthusiastically, too, admitting he'd wanted it for a long time. If nothing else made you feel better about your shit progress, he surely could.

He kept eye contact while his hand worked open your pants, pulling them and your panties down your legs with speed and precision. He wasted no time pressing your thighs to your chest, tucking you into an uncomfortable position before kneeling in front of you.

"No thinkin'," He warned. "'Less it's about cummin' on my face."

Your head fell back, groaning softly, lifting back up again only when he pressed his lips to your pussy. Then, you watched with anticipation building in your gut, trembling in your limbs and a heavy ache settling in your womb.

He slid a warm tongue between your folds, a gentle touch you hadn't expected from the brute of a man. He watched you the entire time, took in the sight of your lips parting, sucking in a long breath, shutting your eyes as you basked in the pleasure. He couldn't help but form a grin, his lips engulfing your pussy in an open-mouthed kiss.

His attention moved to your clit, faint licks crossing the sensitive area that coaxed quick jolts from your body. He settled into a rhythm, and your body adjusted accordingly, leaning into the new and overwhelming feeling.

"Yeah, right there," You said, a hushed tone, like you were speaking to yourself.

He grunted in response, another warning.

"Sorry," You said again. "Feels so good." It was a quiet whine.

You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, grab at something, anything that would connect you to him, so you settled for his forearms. Your palm gripped the flesh of his arm, squeezing, just as he did to your thighs.

His tongue expertly traced your clit, circles and delicate licks that made your back arch, opening yourself up for him to taste.

"That's it," He uttered, muffled by your pussy. Even speaking against you made you clench, stare down at him with lust on your face. "There's a good girl."

You exhaled, nodding in agreement, submission to his mouth as he returned to his rhythm, falling in tandem with the heavy breathing leaving your chest. His eyes hadn't left you, watching and studying your expression for every hint of pleasure. He was intent on learning exactly what you like, though it was difficult to discern through the flurry of expressions on your face.

Your brows drawn together, jaw open as you choked down a gasp, breathing heavily into the dark room. He could make out your face, but your silhouette was blackened against the light of the monitors. He could see the swell of your breasts, your thighs, the curve of your waist against the backlight. He could even see your eyes, when you'd drop your head to watch him devour you.

You began to shake, tensing against his mouth when he continued at a consistent pace. He was thorough in every aspect of life- this was no exception. He didn't let up, even when your pussy drooled with cum, instead, he licked it up with his tongue, moaning softly against you at your taste.

He stood to his feet, unbuckling his belt as he stared at you. Your chest heaved, toes curled, leaning back as you watched him. The light danced on his abdomen, highlighting every hill and dip on his torso, the scars that scattered the skin. It was a sight that had your brain resetting, recovering as though you hadn't been covered in a layer of sweat and left breathless from your orgasm.

His cock stood erect when he yanked his trousers down, and he didn't stall any longer. He stalked forward, leaning into you, his hand on the desk behind you as he pushed his cock through the tight barrier of your hymen. He was absorbed, swallowed by soft inner-muscles and velvety walls, slick with your cum and arousal.

He pressed his lips to yours again, not allowing for much deliberation or accommodation- he was far too aroused to wait. You planted your heels against the desk as he thrusted his entire length into you, quickly meeting your cervix with a gentle graze. It made you suck in a sharp breath, and move away from his lips.

You saw his eyes, the look of possession and pure lust in them. You merely stared at each other, a nauseating intimacy while he thrusted inside you, further disturbing your lower stomach with a tightness.

"Oh God," You choked, your hands reaching around his shoulders, clinging to him. "Don't stop- don't fucking stop."

His hand reached around you, holding you against him, the other gripping your thigh with a bruising constraint.

"Fuckin' Christ, you're tight, sweetheart," He breathed in your ear. "You all wet for me?"

You nodded, breathing an enthusiastic yes into his ear, clenching at his back with your fingers. Your nails dug into the slick flesh, feeling his muscles move as his hips tilted back and forth into you.

All you could smell, hear was him. The scent of his heavy body soap, like pine, mixed with the cigarette you'd offered him earlier. His breathing in your ear, heavy pants as he relished in the tightness of you- the slippery walls encroaching on his cock.

"Such a good fuckin' girl," He mumbled against your neck, his lips dragging against your skin. "Say you're a good girl," His voice rumbled through his chest. "Fuck me- all for me."

It was haze-inducing, incoherent mumbles, quiet gasps and sobs as you clung to him. It worsened when his fingers played your clit, sliding between your bodies to rub over the sensitive spot.

"I'm a good girl," You gasped. "I'm your good girl."

"'At's right, sweetheart- takin' me nice and deep."

It didn't take long to clench around his cock, another wave of nauseating pleasure that rendered you absolutely useless as he drove into you.

"Fuckin' hell," He stuttered.

You'd constricted his cock, pulsating around him with every contraction, nearly sobbing into his shoulder when he continued with his thrusts.

He finally pulled out, tugging on his cock as he released his cum over your stomach. He exhaled sharply, before gathering his composure.

You grimaced as you stood to your feet, trying to clean yourself off as best you could.

You watched him shrug his jacket back on.

"Get some rest," He nodded once, gesturing to the doorway. "I'll check on you tomorrow."

"Is 'check on me' an innuendo? Should I wear my good underwear?" You grinned, pulling your pants back over your backside.

"I'd shag you if y'had on a bin bag, sweetheart."

"You're sweeter than you let on," You teased, laughing.

"Not for most," He cocked his head. "Guess you're lucky."

"Well, thank you," You smiled.

It was genuine. A distraction, however unexpected and unusual, that did make you almost forget about the assignment.

"I'll be around," He paused. "If you're feelin' like takin' your frustrations out."

"Goodnight, Lieutenant."

He walked off with a short nod. You paused for a moment; the temptation to curl yourself up at your desk and continue your assignment was gnawing at you. You clenched your jaw, took a deep breath in when you recalled Ghost's words, and finally decided to turn off the monitors.

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #simon riley #strlingsavwrites #ghost x you

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utilitycaster · 7 months ago

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Wizard Breakdown Tracker: Downfall part 3

Ultimately, I associate the Wizard Breakdown Tracker with Aeor; I began it during the middle of the Nein's Aeor arc, and even bringing it back for the Nein reunions feels like it's missing something. That thing, it turns out, is a city of Wizard Hubris.

There are no wizard PCs so we can dispense with the formalities. For the purposes of this post, while The Raven Queen is an ex-wizard, Emhira isn't and is counted as a warlock, and The Raven Queen is counted as just a straight up god. As always, in no particular order, and if a wizard is not mentioned it's because I didn't have anything funny nor serious enough to say about them.

Calamity-era Wizards

Adamar: literally no idea. I think he was stressed but he got vaporized by Meteor Swarm (completely within the realm of mortal achievement btw; Imogen Temult could take it in 4 levels) before things really broke bad. Like 7/10; he was in pitched combat but he had 3 dragons and a bunch of demons on his side.

Primarch Selena: There are going to be a few wizards in this who truly do embody a more profound breakdown than anything we've seen before. Selena is one. What does it mean to be so good at creating a mortal-made form of life that the god of beauty chooses to reside in this when picking a vessel? What does it mean to realize in the same instant that your life's work is what doomed you and its target is standing in front of you and now holds your life in their hands? In the end, she doomed her city twice while also actively repenting; it's not just gods who contain multitudes and conflict. But also 10/10.

Arcadia Cerenvetorix: Well, she got tricked by Asmodeus and stuffed in a bottle. Asmodeus did a good job of imitating her too which, as a deity of truth and knowledge cannot feel great, to know that Guy Whose Thing Is Lying has your number even if he is technically lying and therefore in his wheelhouse in pretending to be you. Then she gets let out having been saved by SILAHA, who as a result of saving her, cannot stop Selena. I have to imagine this series of consequences drives some of her decision making in the very end, although at that point she is technically not a wizard and therefore out of the scope of this post. Anyway, 9/10; she did almost die.

Cassida Previn: There's no option for this other than 10/10. Her revelations were delivered with far less kindness than even Selena's; we see her break. She has time to consider that her good intentions have doomed Aeor as well as find the deity she's risked execution to serve is a more complicated being than what she expected and does not approve of her greatest act of service. And that's before we consider that the Society of Primes is implied to have not been successful (we don't know, since the Factorum Malleus is never fired, so it could be a bluff; but the Primes are heavily indicated to be in just as much danger) and that's also before her final moments are being presumably tortured by Asmodeus. I don't know if she really renounced The Everlight; Asmodeus lies, but it's not an unexpected consequence. As The Everlight says, it doesn't matter; she was well within her rights to feel however she felt in those last moments and it does not erase all that she did before. If she didn't it was a lie from Asmodeus, and if she did, she is forgiven entirely.

Those guys who were dragons for a hot second: Honestly? What a way to go. I wouldn't even be mad. 6/10.

The Wizards In The Cognouza Ward: THEY LEFT SO EARLY. AND FOR WHAT. Like, yes, yes, you want to show the moment so you have to do it pretty early on because you won't have the viewpoint of the divine entities later on since they'll be in the Genesis Ward, but COME ON MAN. It really is like...you could have been The Ring of Brass to Aeor. If you wanted to sound the early warning you could have done some strategic teleporting of as many people you could get onto Exandria, despite the storm, and hell, you could have taken a long rest and planeshifted the next fucking day if you had to go to the Astral Plane so badly but nooooo you had to fuck everyone else over. I mean does anyone deserve a millennium of madness and horror as Cognouza eventually became? no. But like, maybe a few years for this bullshit. 5/10 because it isn't bad yet because they jumped the fucking gun. and again. for what.

843 PD Wizards watching this or just hanging out elsewhere

Essek Thelyss: I imagine he is like those pictures of the math lady except he fully understands the math. Absolute mind blown. Trying to figure out the Luxon's relationship to Tengar if there is one. Wondering why Aeor was working on Cognouza and the Factorum Malleus and not their various Luxon experiments. Trying to figure out if the gods used the same principle as consecution. Trying to reconcile the image of Lolth as weirdly adorable with the horrors he knows his people escaped. Also he has been watching a movie for like 13-ish hours but I wonder if floating means his legs haven't fallen asleep. 6/10.

Allura Vyesoren: I really like to imagine she messaged one of Bells Hells and they were like "can I call you back later we're watching a movie" and she is just like I am getting too old for this shit. 4/10 in like, the relative sense of all wizards in this 843 PD narrative are dealing with an existential threat but like within that context, 4/10.

Caleb Widogast: I feel like the Nein would be best deployed to Ria'Doin but he might be on some other weird mission given that Essek was sent to Aeor in his place, and hopefully, we get a one-shot out of this. For me. Anyway though for practical reasons he did just hear from Essek recently and Trent seems gone for good so, within the broader "Ludinus Da'leth is fucking over existence" context, also like a 4/10.

Yussa Errenis: Really hard to tell! What unhinged fuckery that doesn't require physically leaving the house is this small bastard (affectionate) up to. Is he on the moon? Is Nicodranas on a nexus point thus sending him to some far-flung region of Exandria? Did he try to question Halas and get trapped in the gem? Is he just ignoring Iva Deshin? Anyway given his track record I am going to say 9/10 and he is in some kind of peril that is low-key his own fault, but it's anyone's guess.

Astrid Becke: Imagine being screwed over so hard you have to go undercover in retail. I think that fantasizing over who gets to land a killing blow in D&D Actual Play is not terribly interesting; what happens happens, and such fantasies are usually a dull slog of "who is wronged most" which is never good. With that said I don't think she is the most wronged, if that's even a metric one can know; and also I know this is not going to happen given her very tangential nature as a minor NPC in the story being told here; and I don't think I am speaking about a just or kind world in this fantasy; but in a world that aims for justice but lands in pettiness, she would get the final blow on Ludinus Da'leth. 7/10.

Ludinus Da'leth: There's a tumblr-famous post in which someone makes a lot of wild-ass claims about the status of, iirc, women who spun thread in medieval Europe and then when people were like "I don't think that's right" posted a fuckload of links and the phrase "*steeples fingers*" and then someone actually clicked on the links and was like "uh none of these back up your point, actually; most of them have little to do with it and what few do address it either contradict what you are saying, or are similarly unsourced from non-experts." Anyway I think we can all see the value in checking the citations and vetting your sources here, a lesson The Martinet seems to have failed to internalize. He is however either at a 3/10 or an 8/10 depending on precisely how up his own ass he is and whether he realizes he showed footage far too complicated to make but a single easy argument.

#cr spoilers #critical role #cr downfall #wizard breakdown tracker

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ghosts-to-reid · 5 months ago

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Neo Gothic III

A/N: Sorry it took so long for the next part! I went to a party and drank wayyyy too much wine. Uni's picking up a lot too so im still settling back into my routine. I hope you guys enjoy! Also MGG Reading my favourite poem??? I had to.

Summary: After the case in Texas, a new pattern emerges that links you and the crimes. Spencer is there to dull any of your worry, consoling your worry.

(When you get to the poem, I recomend listening to this. Trust me.)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Bibliography

A week had passed since Spencer had asked you on a date, yet there just hadn't been the right time for yet. Obviously, your finals were important, but Spencer had been helping you study after work. This is where you discovered how fast the man can actually read, making that night in the motel seem that much more special to you. These could be considered study dates, but when broaching that subject with Spencer, her would always shake his head.

"No, I want to do this properly." Is all he'd say. Not sure what this means, maybe he wants to go oldschool? Dinner and a movie, or maybe the arcade and a walka round the park? Either way, time spent with him was something to cherish in your point of view.

During one of these study dates that weren't study dates, the topic of profiling came up once more.

"Would you ever think about it?" His head was propped on hi shand as he looked up from a book in front of him, breaking the silence tha had filled his living room before.

"Think about what, Spencer?" Brow knitted in slight confusion

"Profiling. Getting into the classes at the academy. I think its worth thinking about." Honey coloured eyes met yours, they were soft and full of some adoration.

He had asked you a few times since the case you had assisted on. The confidence the boy genius had in you was touching, if misguided in your opinion. The truth of the matter was that you would love to, you just didn't think you were qualified. The breakdown upon discovering there had been a new victim was not a moment you wanted to relive, or the feeling of abject disgust at the image of the dead victims. Dissasociating from the truth of the images would only work so long, most of the reason you had been able to stomach was only due to you telling yourself they were actually images from a horror movie. Truthully, the guts that it took to do this job weren't something you were sure you were equipped with. Explaining this to Spencer many times, he would reassure you of his belief in you, but he understood your apprehension. He coudln't argue with your opinion of the gore however, he understood fully that there was a big difference in real violence and fake, and that dissaociating the victims like that wouldn't be healthy.

Still, he would persist. Shamefully, you had to admit that the walls you'd built around the idea were slowly coming down.

"How would I even get into the academy? You all have psychology degrees, or field experience. You're literally a genius. What do I have in comparison to that?" Laying the book you'd been reading face down, you sat upright to face him properly

"Practically, you'd think that would help but a lot of this comes down to knowledge. You've been absorbing more knoweledge from us that I think even you realise, and your subconcious brought it out when you were with us in Texas. It's like your brain has stored this because it knows you want to profile, because you know you'd be good at it even if you won't admit it to yourself. And because you know you want to help people." His smile was contagious as he spoke, so elequently about his faith in your abilities "And with a reccomendation from Hotch, you could be put into the academy after you graduate if you really wanted."

"Hotch would do that?" You raised a brow, unsure of Spencer's claim

"If I asked him to, yes." He was ammused by his own comment, a laugh escaping his lips "He thinks you have potential too though. I don't think he would take much convicing."

"If I say i'll think about it, can we get back to studying? I should probably get this degree out of the way before I start considering an entire career." A small smile graced your lips as you spoke, but finally spencer relented his pestering.

Truthully, he wasn't the only person who had been asking you about your thoughts on becoming a profiler. JJ had been dropping hints about how she technically was in a similar position to you when she started her training. Emily and Derek had been less subtle, parking themselves at your desk whilst discussing case details, and then asking you to weigh in. Clearly trying to perform some sort of reverse psychology on you, hoping you wouldn't notice their secret agenda. The atmosphere around the office was lighter though, as if you finally felt settled into the department. Knowing your co-workers sparked a new found joy in your job that made their offers all the more tempting.

2 Weeks after the replication case, you had finished your finals. The team had been sent to Colarado on a case, so you celebrated the end of your finals on your own, watching as many horror movies as you could in the 48 hours you had finally to yourself. The team had wrapped the case Saturday night, and hadn't picked up a new case yet, so you were eager to finnaly catch up with them all after their week long absence. Exiting the elevator, you made your way to your desk, placing your bag in its usual spot. The team were no where to be seen around the bullpen, noticing the shades of the conference room were drawn however, you'd assumed they had called onto a case. Before getting settled, Hotch's head popped out of the slightly ajar door, beckoning you over with a stern look. Not completely unusual, you were often sent on burracratic errands of file retriving for them for cases, so you didn't think twice when entering the room.

There, gathered around the table, was the whole team with huge smiles on their faces. There was a a few balloons, one saying 'Congratulations!' In winding Purple lettering, with a few small wrapped boxes beside a tray of muffins and coffee from your and Penelope's favourite coffee shop. With a start, the team all cheered "Congratualtions" as you entered, a warm feeling of happiness spreading through your chest as you took in the sight.

Penelope attacked you with a hug, whilst the group all said their congratulations.

"Guys... This is amazing. Thank you..." Was all you managed to say as JJ pulled you into a tight hug

"I knew you could do it! I'm so proud of you." JJ held your shoulders with a small squeeze, flashing a prideful look to you. JJ knew you had no living family, and a part of you wondered if she had a hand in orchastrating the surprise due to this. Either way, you were thankful for the teams enthusiasm at your upcoming graduation.

"Well, don't get your hopes up yet everyone, I don't get my results for another week. I don't even know if I passed yet." Smiling at the fuss, the team interjected with protest

"Of course you will have, you had our boy genius here helping you. And you certainly knew your stuff already." Derek slid his arm around your shoulders affectionatly, making your smile widen.

Spencer made his way over to you and gave you a quick, but tight hug. Whispering a small "Well done" into your hair before he pulled away.

"Ok, we have presents!" Garcia announced happily "Of course, we went in on the muffins, your favourite, lemon and poppyseed but without the lemon curd in the middle. Annnnddd-" She picks a cup up and hands it to you "Your favourite, Salted caramel Mocha with whipped cream. An absolute sugar nightmare but that is something you and our boy genius have in common after all. OH! And we have actual presents!" She claps happily, everyone her infectious glee as she flittered around the space, grabbing your hand for you to sit. One by one the group gave you their small gifts. Derek and Emily had given you a copy of book you'd been talking about, Penelope had bought you a little ceramic bat to keep on your desk, Whilst Rossi had bought you an empty frame, stating "Well, you'll need somewhere to put your degree in when you get it." The gifts were thoughtful, and showed how much the team had grown to appreciate you, even in a few weeks. Finally, Spencer stepped forward and handed you a small package. Unwrapping it with a curious smile, you were taken a back.

It was a first edition of Dracula, you gasped and clamped your had over your mouth in shock. You were in disbeleif that Spencer had managed to find this, and that he thought to give it to you.

"Spencer, this is too much! How much did this cost you?" The breath was absent from your lungs as you spoke, utterly taken back at his gesture. The team seemed to be equally surprised, they were still in the dark about yours and spencers recent tryst, so the gesture to them seemed all too much for supposedly platonic friends.

"Geez spence, is that a first edition?" Emily asked, eyebrows shooting up

"I have some connections." Was all he said, a teasing smile as he shrugged his shoulders. Still in disbeleif, you stood and gave Spencer another quick hug before Hotch's phone ringing interupted. Excusing himself, he returned a few moments later with a solemn expression

"Im sorry to interupt, but we have a case." His tone was morose, as usual when news of a new case hit. The pang of saddness hit everyone, any smile disolving as the team began to gather around the table. Collecting your things, you began to make your exit when Hotch held his hand up, making you to still your movements. "You might need to stay for this, Y/N."

Confusion painted your features, as did it the rest of the teams, yet you joined the others in a spare seat next to Spencers.

"Garcia?" Hotch spoke as she typed on her tablet, pausing before meeting your eyes

"Uh huh, just a second.... Y/N you might want to look aweay from the screen." Heeding her advice, you angled yourself away from the screen and in turn, more towards Spencer.

"Ok so, we have an Unsub right here in Virginia. He has been... Replicating the deaths of men in... Gothic fiction novels..." Penelopes voice trails off as she looks to you, the air shifts to one of uncertainty. One crime happening to do with the gothic was a conicdence, another unsub doing the same isn't.

"What are the chances of two seperate unsubs operating under the same MO just two weeks a part?" Emily asked, but Spencer shook his head

"Statistaically very low, these crimes have to be connected" He looked at the screen in search. "What do we know?"

"Well, currently we are on a body count of 3. The victims overlap with our previous unsub by one. They weren't conncted till now when local authorities ran it through VICAP and saw the similarities with the Texas case. We need to operate under the assumption the cases are linked until proven otherwise. Hence, your presance, L/N. Considering your recent completion of your degree and your field of expertise, I'd like to ask you to act as informant to us once more." Hotch turned to you, passing you Penelope's tablet.

"The crimes so far have replicated that of Dracula, This time replicating the title characters death. Down to the, um, beheading and..." Penelope trailed off "burning of the body..."

"I bet if the body was intact there would be evidence of a stab wound to the chest too, if he's like the texas case he'll have replicated this perfectly." You added softly, Reid gave you en encourging nod.

"The strength and accuracy of these crimes absolutely allude to the unsub being a man, the strength needed to behead someone like that is no joke." Morgan added, you nodded.

"The gothic is also very induvidual to a person, like any novel you get what relates to you from them. What other novels were replicated Pen?"

"Um, that would be the death that kicks off the castle of Otranto, yanno the... crushing thing with the suit of armour, and then with the latest vic he escaleted. Replicating Frankensein, except instead of digging up graves he just, put the vic back together..." Penelope's heart dropped, as did yours. Taking a deep breath you braved a glance at the screen. Images of violence you'd never thought humanity capable of, images you believed to be works of fiction. A pang of saddness hit your chest, when the feeling of a hand softly rubbing your shoulder broke you out of the trance you hadn't realised you were in. Turning your attention back to Spencer, who's hand rested softly on your shoulder, you gained back your clarity once more.

"So each crime he's becoming less and less precious about accuracy, so if the crimes in Texas were almost like a test run, and we interupted, then maybe he's deescalting?" Looking around the room, JJ's brow knits as she thinks.

"If you're right,then we need to figure out the significance of the gothic for our unsub, and hwy he recruited our last unsub to start the crimes in Texas. Why replicate these deaths? Why change victimology from women to men?" JJ stared at the screen.

"He breaks the boundries of literary releveance too. He goes from late 19th century, to late 18th, and then to early 19th. There's no organisation, and I can't think of any particularly strong links between the novels theme wise from the top of my head. I'd have to go back home and look through my notes. But the form fits the previous case. Dracula to start, from my experience its the novel that gets most people into studying the genre to begin with, its theatrical and camp, and in some ways epitomises the genre. But the Castle of Otranto is the birth of the gothic story, its the first story that used the word gothic for a ghost story rather than as a slur or to describe something medieval. But then we go to Frankenstein, arguably the gothic nature comes from the setting it was written in rather than the actual story, its mostly attributed to science fiction than the gothic but it teeters the edge." You ramble, once again zoning out asa you stare to the tablet in your hand, scanning through your knowledge to find any kind of link between the novels.

"Ok, L/N, Take Reid to your appartment to look through your notes, you'll get through them quicker that way. Emily and JJ head down to the recent crime scene and see if you can lend any fresh eyes to the locals. Derek and Rossi head to the local ME and find out what you can from the examiner on the victims. Penelope and I will stay here to find connections between the current victims." Hotch and the others quickly gather their things, giving you one last congratulations before exiing. Silently, you follow Spencer to his car, where he drives you both to your apartment once more.

The jangle of keys broke the silence inside the aprtment you had left less than an hour ago. Making your way around the living room and dumping your bag on your battered sofa, you quickly turn on some lamps before walking to the small kitchen situated in the corner of the room.

"Make yourself at home." You smile to him, busying yourself making two cups of tea, as he looks around the room, once more observing the space, taking in what he didnt the last time as he sat on the distressed arm chair cramed into the corner of the room.

Your place was small, sure, but you prefered the word cosy. The Kitchen and living room were in the same room, but to you it just made it easier to keep clean. The walls were lined with shelves, filled with all kinds of books, some with files and trinkets. Mementos of you that had collected over the years, that refelcted you both past and present. There were a few framed prints along the wall of famous horror movies, Scream, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Chucky, Hellraiser, you were sure your choice of movie posters could be analysed by Reid, and you were hoping silently, he wouldn't deduce a hidden part of your psyche that you weren't aware of yourself.

Glancing over to the man, you saw him observing the leafs on one of the various plants that were littered around the room.

"Did you know that Monsteras can bloom fruit? It's said to taste like a mixture of fruit salad." He spoke up, glancing at you with a smile as you returned from the kitchen with two mugs, handing him one.

"It's peppermint, sorry I ran out of coffee this morning." You place your mug on your coffee table and move over to one of your shelves, grabbing some binders and handing them to reid before grabbing a pile of your own. The pair of you sit beside one another, knees toutching as you both scan through your oldnotes. After a moment of silence, Spencer touches his knee to yours lightly, getting your attention.

"Im sorry we haven't been on our date yet..." His tone had a sheepish tone to it. The way his eyes met yours showed that he really felt guilty, but you shook your head.

"What do you mean? We've still been spending time together." Placing the binder you were holding onto the coffee table, you turned your full attention to man beside you, who mirrored your actions.

"I know, but I just wanted to do this properly with you." There was that phrase again, what did he mean?

"What do you mean by that, Spencer? What does properly mean to you?" Grabbing his hand softly, he starts slightly before melting into your touch, absentmindly intertwining his fingers with yours.

"I just mean... I mean..." He scanned your eyes, as if trying to find the right words in them. A small pleading look painted his features. "I just want to make sure I don't scare you away. Or do anything wrong... I don't date. Ever really, but the few I've been on... They just seem to run when they see the strains from my job. I just want to.., I dont know. Follow the right formula, you know take you out to dinner, walk you home, kiss you goodbye at the door. I want to experience what love should be, not the large spark that doesn't ignite anything that I have been..." His gaze had trailed away from yours, finding your intertwined hands, watching as he fiddled with your hand between both of his larger ones. A small sigh escaped your lips as you chuckled

"Woah cowboy, lets slow down with the love, we haven't even been out to dinner yet." You chuckled, trying to eleviate his anxiety. His head snapped up in panic, fear evident that he said something wrong, but you interupted before he could voice this "I'm not going to get scared away, Spencer. I've worked at that desk for a year now, and I've seen what your job entails, if i was going to get scared away, do you think I would've entertained the idea of us in the first place?" His lips draw into a small line, and he shakes his head no. "Exactly, Spencer. Besides, falling in love doesn't follow a formula. It's not the romcom script that you expect. It's quality time, it's strife and raw emotion, it's an exposing yourself to someone in more than just body, but mind and heart too. That takes time and being together, and thats what we've been doing already. Hell, we shared a bed the first day we spoke a full proper sentence to each other, i think we're already past doing this properly."

Spencer seemed at a loss for words, staring into your eyes as you brought your hands together once more, halting his fidgeting and squeezing his hand.

"If we're together, then that's all that matters to me." Spencer's lips broke into a releived smile, before he leaned forward to place a small kiss on your lips. He pulled away just as quickly as your lips had joined, however.

"Im sorry, I didn't mean to-" You cut him off by placing your lips to his again, free hand cradling his cheek as you gave him a longer, more passionate kiss. After a moment, you break a part. Spencer sported a dopey smile, eyes glued to your features.

"I was waiting for you to do that again since Texas..." Your voice was small, but full of happiness towards the doctor in front of you. Finally, the pair of you continued your research, unempeaded this time, for another hour. Eventually, you perked up, alerting the man beside you.

"There's allusions to God. Each one has some sort of religious message!" You shriked, Spencers eyes widenning, thinking for a moment before perking up himself

"You're right... Dracula is a representation of sin for the 19th century, Frankenstein is mans punishment for playing god... but how does the castle of otranto link to god?" Spencer questions

"It's about sin. It's sort of a slur piece playing on the fears of catholicsm in the 18th century, thats why Walpole set it in the crusades, its publication lined up with the catholic reformation in England at the time. It's a display of public fears." Eagerly, you went to grab your old copies of each of the books. All covered in annotations from your past studies.

"So the unsub's message is religious... So why choose the gothic as a mode to display his religious beliefs?" Spencer followed you, grabbing your copy of frankenstein and skimming through the poages.

"I'm not too sure on that actually... Maybe because the gothic itself is caused moral outrage at the time? Maybe that's what his message is, something might've happened that links his moral outrage to the genre?" Your gaze met his furrowed one, before he could speak however, there was a knock on your door. Unsure who it may be, you gingerly make your way towards it.

On the door step, there was a large, brown package. There was no shipping label, or return adress. Only a note placed central over the brown tape that held the box shut. The words 'For my Sanguinary Rosebud', signed 'Nosferatu'.

"Spencer?" Your call was weak, confusion littering your face. The man joined you, and peered over your shoulder to the box.

"That's... Odd." He reached into his pocket and grabbed a pair of blue gloves, He moved towards the box slowly, picking it up with gloved hands bfore resting it ontop of your small dining table. He retrived a knife from your draw after photographing the box unopened, and slowly slid his knife through the tape.

The smell hit you first, making you gag and back away, holding a hand to your face. 'oh my god...'

Spencer contuined to methodically open the box, slowly reveling the corpse of a raven. There was a note inside, Spencer retrived it and held it up before reading it aloud

"It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee- With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsmen came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of many far wiser than we- And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea— In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Does this poem mean anything to you?" His eyes were wide, clear with worry. Slowly you nodded.

"It's... It's my favourite..." You uttered, hand still over your mouth, eyes wide as they looked over the box "Who would do this?"

Spencers brow knitted further with confusion, you could see how hard he was thinking, trying to figure out the reason that you were targeted with such an odd gift. He quickly snatched his mobile from his pocket and dialed Hotch.

"Hotch? We have something. Y/N has been sent... Let's just say a token of affection and I think it's from our unsub... Okay... I understand... Be there soon." Turning to you he removes the gloves and places his hands on your shoulders

"The team are on their way to preserve the scene, but I'm going to take you back to the BAU. Can you pack a bag? If this is the unsub, then we can't let you stay here." He was methodical in his instructions, you were still in a state of shock from the last few minutes. Blinking in rsponse, you made your way to your room, haphazardly throwing some things into a duffle before leaving to the car with Spencer. He guided you out with a hand to the small of your back, finally talking once more in the car.

"Are you alright?" Softly, he broke you from the trance you'd been in since discovering the box. Shaking your head yes, Spencer saw through it and grabbed your hand once more, squeezing it reassuringly and pulling you into his chest, placing a small kiss to your crown.

"We don't know what this means for sure yet. He could be teasing us, he must know we're onto him and hes trying to psyche us out."

"But... why me? Why do this to me?" Your voice was meager in the wake of his claims, muffled into his jumper.

"I... I dont know. But I'll keep you safe. I promise." He broke from you, meeting your eyes with a kind smile "Im going to keep you safe."

Part 4 soon...

Tags: @pleasantwitchgarden @xamapolax @kchv

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds prompts #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine

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savannahsdeath · 2 years ago

Note

heyyy could u write something where like reader is about to shower but starts to get really insecure and kinda has a breakdown, BUT ellie reassures her. (pls also give reader stretch marks bc i've been so insecure abt mine lately and i have them literally everywhere. thighs, hips, even on my boobs lol) <3

ELLIE WILLIAMS X INSECURE!READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! but tbh its minors safe this time i think ??

writers note: just a reminder youre all beautiful no matter what!! beauty standards or wtv was it called are something we shouldnt base our life on but we sadly do. self love is the key to happiness and dont let other people ruin it!!🩷🩷and to our lovely anon, you dont need to worry about stretch marks. trust me, most of people dont even pay attention to them! its nothing 'special in a bad way'. i lately got some too, right before my holidays and theyre sooo visible through my summer clothes but its something you can get used to be comfortable with. please, anon, dont think less of yourself because of them nor any other insecurities. and this comes to everyone!!💞

it was already late so you were getting ready to take a shower to not waste any more time. you put your clothes on a nearby shelf. you stood in front of the mirror in your underwear only, looking for anything that could be possibly pointed out, like you didn't have enough insecurities already. feeling rather self-conscious, you were examining your reflection for any flaws or imperfections. every detail of your body was being inspected up-close, from the lines on your stomach, to the size of your thighs, to the shape of your shoulders and face. your eyes were scanning every inch of you, seeking any signs of something you could hate, even if others wouldn't notice them. you couldn't help but wonder if the things you were stressing over were even worth worrying about, or if you were just creating problems where they didn't exist.

either way, you couldn't help but hate them. and since you mostly focused on bad things and you didn't see your advantages - you hated yourself. in your eyes your whole body could change. or even should change.

the more you stared at yourself in the mirror, picking apart every little thing, the more you hated what you saw. it felt like nothing was good enough, like every little imperfection needed to be changed or worked on. you felt like you could never measure up to this impossible standard, like your entire body was inadequate. the insecurities were eating away at you, gnawing away until any confidence or self-love you might've had was gone.

that was the moment your eyes beginned to get glossy. you didn't cry though, oh, no. you hated the way you look when you cry, just like everything else, so you tried your best to hold back tears. the floodgates were beginning to open, but you held them back with everything you had. you despised the way you looked when you cried: the tears down your cheeks, your puffy eyes, all those disgusting, revolting imperfections. as much as you hated your flaws, you despised your crying face even more. you would never let anyone see you like that, never.

suddenly, your girlfriend and roommate in one, knocked on the door. "everything okay in there?"

she must notice you're taking your time instead of simply taking a shower already.

you stayed silent, knowing if you try to open your mouth you couldn't control what comes from them. you'd probably break down and the thick door won't be enough to mute your pathetic sobs.

you didn't want to answer, but then again, you knew if you stayed quiet, your girlfriend would eventually come in and check on you. you had to keep yourself together. you couldn't fall apart right in front of her like that.

you let out a shaky breath and replied, "yeah, everything's fine." you could feel your voice cracking with each word, but you were determined not to let her see you in such a sorry state.

what if she sees me the way i see myself?

your girlfriend wasn't fooled by your shaky reply. even if you denied it, she knew something was wrong. she heard the emotion in your voice and could sense the struggle to keep yourself together. without another word, she opened the door and walked in.

"what's wrong, pretty girl?" she asked when she didn't saw your glossy eyes yet.

you, on the other hand, couldn't control yourself anymore. the nickname 'pretty girl' hit you instantly, thinking you're anything but pretty.

pretty.

girl.

those two words hit you harder than a punch to the gut, evoking a strong reaction that you tried to mask. you took a deep breath to steady your voice so that you didn't break, but it was impossible to sound completely calm when you felt so much pain just from those two words.

"nothing." you muttered quietly, but your voice sounded more like a choke than a word.

she hugged you from behind, looking in the same, unlucky mirror. her hands softly touched the scretch marks on your hips as she hold onto them, gently rocking you back and forth.

you wanted nothing more than to reject this hug and flee from your own reflection in the mirror, but you were too weak to pull away.

"nothing?" she asked gently, planting little kisses from your neck to shoulders.

you felt a wave of shame and embarrassment wash over you as your girlfriend's touch revealed the marks on your hips. she immediately spotted them and caressed them with her soft hands.

it all felt too much. you were fighting so hard to hold yourself together, but when she touched you, it all came crashing down. the tears finally escaped and you began to sob, clinging onto her tightly as you broke down. "no... not nothing..."

she held you close, feeling your warmth as her arms wrapped around you and her hands comforted your pain. she rubbed your back and kissed your neck as she tried to soothe you. "shh, come here, it's okay..." she whispered gently.

she led you over to the bed and laid you down. she carefully took off her shirt, leaving on only her bra and boxers, then laid down with you, hugging you tightly. she kissed your neck, your face, brushed your hair back, caressed your body, your stretch marks, your insecurities (at least the ones she knew about), anything to try and comfort you. she whispered words of reassurance and love as she tried to fill you with the affection you felt you lacked. "i love you, my pretty girl... i love you." she repeated those words again and again, hoping you'd believe that someone could love you, and that someone was her.

ellie continued to hold you tightly as you cried into her. your tears soaked into her bra, but she didn't mind; you'd done that many times before. she rubbed your back in soothing circles as she let you let it all out, and she made small shushing noises in your ear. your sobs turned into whimpers and then into a soft murmur, and as your emotions died down, she gently wiped away the tears, replacing them with kisses.

as she noticed you calmed down she slightly pulled away to get a better look at you. "can you tell me what's wrong now?"

"i... it's just..." you started, and your voice broke as you tried to find the words. your girlfriend gave you her undivided attention, focusing on you and only you. "i- i don't feel pretty... i don't feel good enough... i don't feel... enough."

with her eyes looking deep into yours, you couldn't help but be vulnerable as you opened up to her. your insecurities and flaws, the things you tried so hard to hide, were all laid bare in front of her now.

a pang of guilt hit you in that moment.

what am i doing?

ellie was so sweet and loving, and you felt like you were just taking advantage of her kindness. like you're just an attention seeker.

but before you could say anything, she pressed a finger to your lips.

"no. shut your mouth." she said sternly, and you couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "that's not true. i don't wanna hear it, not another word." she leaned in and pressed her soft lips to yours.

you found yourself sitting on her lap, as she stroked your hair, whispering something or kissing you from time to time. you told her all about it, about what and how you feel. and she listened.

you were so lost in your emotional story you didn't even notice the way she slowly took off her rings - one by one, and placed them on a bedside shelf.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #reqs open #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x insecure!reader #ellie x insecure!reader #insecure!reader

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xiaq · 2 years ago

Text

Is it time for a Steddie time travel fix-it AU? (yes)

A03

There’s something wrong with Steve Harrington.

It’s not that Eddie’s watching him. Not that he pays any special attention to him. But the guy is noticeable. He’s the closest thing Hawkins has to royalty: Rich. Star athlete. Attractive. He’s the cliche golden boy of every teen movie with his polos and letterman jacket and vacant, pretty smile as he walks down hallways with his arm around the girl-of-the-week. He’s a predictable staple; a static figure in the horror script that is Eddie’s high school existence.

So when Steve Harrington shows up to school on an otherwise ordinary Wednesday looking and acting really fucking different, Eddie notices.

Well, he doesn’t actually look all that different. The clothes are normal. But his hair is far from its typical careful coiffure, and there’s a frantic energy to him as he shoves his way through the double doors and jogs into the empty hallway.

He doesn’t see Eddie, tucked in the bathroom alcove.

The only people at the school this early are the marching band kids, wrapping up their hellishly early practice, and Eddie, waiting to sell to a tuba player with no concept of how much weed should actually cost. Eddie has no intention of informing him.

Steve Harrington, pacing in front of a segment of lockers, checking his watch, shoving his fingers through his hair, is wildly out-of-place in the bright-lit early-morning hallway.

And then, things get weirder.

Because Robin Buckley exits the band room and they both freeze.

“Fuck,” she says, “are you––”

“Rob,” Steve says, and it's the most gut-wrenching sound Eddie has maybe ever heard in his life.

She throws herself at him and they hug like—Eddie doesn’t even know. Like the people you see on the news from war zones who thought their family had been killed before a miraculous reunion.

“Are you ok?” she asks, voice cracked and carrying in the empty hallway. “I woke up this morning and my mom was just acting like everything was normal and I had to get to practice and I thought maybe it had all been some fucked up dream but even I’m not that creative.” She pushes away from him, tugging up the bottom of his shirt, “what about––are you––?”

He grabs her wrist, shaking his head. “No, I’m fine. I’m completely fine. I’m just…1983 me.”

What the fuck, Eddie thinks.

Well, he’s already been thinking that, but. What does that even mean? What else would he be?

“Are the kids ok?”

What kids?

“I don’t know. I don’t have a walkie or anything anymore it’s all––” Steve gestures, “reset. And if this is ‘83 then they’re all actual children again, El might not even be––and what if they don’t––”

“They have to. I mean, if we do, they have to, right?”

Are they on drugs? Is he on drugs? The blunt he smoked last night shouldn’t cause hallucinations. He pinches himself. Ow.

The band hall doors open again and Eddie shifts further into the alcove as several horn players walk past.

“We can figure things out after school,” Steve murmurs. “We just have to hold it together until then. I don’t know if we’re stuck here or not but if we are––”

“Right. Act normal. Just normal, 16-year-old Robin things. No problem.”

They grab each other again, a tight, desperate, embrace that is not at all normal, Eddie feels it’s important to point out. He didn’t even think that Harrington knew Buckley existed. It’s almost as strange as if Harrington decided to hug Eddie. Inexplicable.

They separate, Robin rubbing at her eyes and Harrington muttering something about not remembering his locker combination. Eddie’s customer arrives before he can decide if he wants to investigate things further.

Focusing in his first period is even more impossible than usual. Focusing on math is tedious enough normally, but when Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington are having some sort of shared nervous breakdown it’s even harder to care about logarithmic functions.

He sees Steve again in the hallway after first period and Eddie will admit he’s actively looking for him now. Steve is talking in hushed tones to Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Beyers of all people. His hair is an absolute wreck, and his posture is…Eddie doesn’t know how to describe it. 'Aggressive' isn’t quite right but it’s close.

And then, like Harrington has some sort of intuition he’s being watched, he glances up and meets Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie doesn’t know why he runs. His fight or flight instincts have been well-honed his 4 years at Hawkins High and there’s something about the feral-ness in Steve’s stance, the completely unfathomable emotion in his eyes, that has Eddie shoving his way around the corner and into the bathroom. He drops his lunchbox into the sink and pushes both hands into his hair with a quietly muttered: “fuck.” He feels like he might be going crazy.

The door opens.

“Eddie,” Steve says.

It sounds strangely similar to the way he’d said “Rob” that morning–full of something Eddie doesn’t understand.

“Harrington,” he says warily.

Steve takes two steps forward and Eddie automatically scrambles backward, running into the wall and bashing his elbow against the paper towel dispenser. Steve has never actually hurt him before, but some of the guys he hangs out with have and—

Steve freezes: both hands out, reaching for nothing.

“You don’t—?”

There’s a question, there, but Eddie has no idea what it is.

“Eddie?” he says again. This time, it’s desperate and Eddie has no idea why.

The only time he’s ever seen someone’s eyes look like this is when he was looking at his own reflection in the church’s bathroom mirror, clinging to the sink at his mother’s funeral.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

Steve’s jaw works. “You don’t remember,” he says blankly.

“Remember what? You’re kinda freaking me out, dude, which is impressive, considering,” he gestures expansively to himself, gives a little shake of his hips so the chains rattle.

Steve doesn’t laugh.

“You don’t remember,” he repeats, more to himself than Eddie. “But you’re ok?”

He’s looking at Eddie’s chest.

“Yes? A-okay. Tip top. Hagan barely touched me yesterday, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“Tommy hurt you?” Steve says.

Well, shit. The crazy eyes are back.

“Man, why do you care?”

“Sorry,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, I know this doesn’t make any sense to you, but can I just–”

Eddie lets him approach, this time. Lets him reach out to touch. It’s just one hand, at first, tentative, like Steve is expecting to be rebuffed, palm cupped to the ball of his shoulder over his jacket. “Sorry,” he says again, letting go only to reach for the hem of Eddie’s shirt, “Sorry, I know I probably sound crazy, I just––” he pulls it up, stares at Eddie’s side, and then lets out a hysterical little noise that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a sob.

“You’re ok,” he says.

His fingers are hot on Eddie’s skin, pressed light and shockingly reverent to the space between his hip and rib cage.

“You’re ok,” he repeats. It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Hey,” Eddie says, it comes out more breathless than he’d prefer but Steve fucking Harrington has him backed against a wall in a bathroom with his hands up Eddie’s shirt so he thinks a little lack of air is warranted. “Are you ok?”

The fingers on his abdomen flex.

“No,” Steve says. His eyes are wide and fathomless and the look on his face is terrible. “No, I’m not even remotely ok.”

It sounds like a confession.

Steve lets go of Eddie’s shirt.

He takes a studied step back but then stops, palm still splayed on Eddie’s side, free hand reaching for Eddie’s arm, for his elbow, to cling, like he can’t quite force himself to stop touching; not yet. He’s looking at Eddie like Eddie has broken his heart which doesn’t make any sense because they don’t know each other. They’ve never spoken directly to each other in their lives. So there’s no reason that Steve should be looking at him, like, like––

Like he is.

They’re breathing each other’s second-hand air and Eddie can smell him and there have only been a few times in his life when a boy has looked at Eddie with even half the want that Steve Harrington is looking at him with now. And never, never has a man who looks like Steve Harrington looked at Eddie with anything approaching whatever the hell is on Steve’s face.

“Eddie,” Steve says, and he sounds so lost.

Eddie’s not proud of it.

He runs away.

He shoves Steve to the side, wrenches open the door, and runs without stopping through the hall, outside, down the sidewalk, and onto the main road. He runs until he has to stop because he can’t breathe and only then does he bend over, hands braced on knees, and look behind him. He almost expects to see Steve has followed him.

He hasn’t.

Eddie can't decide if he's relieved by that or not. And then he realizes he’s left his entire stash in the lunchbox in the bathroom.

“Fuck,” he hisses, straightening, hands on his head, lungs aching.

“Fuck,” he says again, just for the hell of it.

He has no idea what’s happening.

But what he does know is that something is seriously wrong with Steve Harrington.

Pt2 here.

#steddie #steddie fic #time travel #myfic #mywriting #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #robin & steve

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mothergold · 11 months ago

Text

| I Wanna Make My Murder Look Like A Suicide |

Pairing: Diluc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dark content, Yandere, Yan!Diluc, Fem!Reader, Reader wears a dress, Diluc is your husband, Abuse, Manipulation, Reader is disabled, Reader uses a cane, Reader is referred to as Diluc’s ‘Wife’, Mentions of past forced feeding, Arranged Marriage, It is implied that reader’s family was abusive, Scratching (Reader), Diluc is very cruel in this, Kaeya appears towards the end, Dissociation, Reader has a mental breakdown, Stockholm Syndrome (? I’m unsure about this one ?), 4.6k Words.

A/n: Reupload because I deleted this foasijfasodi but yeah idk I really just think yandere!Diluc is neat. Also, the title are lyrics from the song Cotard’s Solution by Will Wood and The Tapeworms.

Summary: When your family arranges a marriage with the wealthy owner of Dawn Winery, you jump at the first chance you can to escape your cruel family, but what new hell awaits you on the other side?

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked in a cold tone.

It threw you off for a moment but only briefly, because if there’s one thing you could promise yourself it’s that your husband, Diluc, would never harm you. But somehow you couldn’t help but clutch onto the fabric of your dress, the same one he gave you on your first wedding anniversary, hands shaking for some unknown reason.

“I was just going for a walk. Would you like to j-” He cut you off mid sentence, snapping at you in response.

“No, I don’t want to go anywhere and neither should you. It’s”— He checked his pocket watch before quickly tucking it back into his pocket— “Three in the morning and both of us should be heading to bed.”

“But-” Before you could get another word in he’d grabbed your wrist and pulled you forward.

That was your cue that it was indeed time to end the night, in bed… with your husband. Your beloved husband who would never steer you astray. So, then why did you have this feeling in the pit of your stomach that something was terribly and unmistakably wrong?

Soon the sun rose and pierced through the window of your bedroom, waking you up with its warm rays and urging you to get ready for the day. You didn’t have anywhere to go or anything to do exactly—to be fair you never did—but that never stopped you from looking your very best. So, you quickly put on a decent looking outfit, brushed your hair, and grabbed your cane. And just as you were about to descend down the stairs you saw the flower embroidered basket out of the corner of your eye. It always tempted you, or maybe taunted is the more appropriate word, and you decided against fighting your desires and instead hooked it over your free arm.

You checked both ways before tip-toeing downstairs, hoping your walk was closer than it was last night. Closer and closer you came to the front door, you knew it was silly but you really wanted to take a walk and you couldn’t understand your husband’s rejections towards it. Your hand was on the bronze knob and you were just about to turn it when a hand placed itself on your shoulder. You jumped and looked to see who it was and to your surprise and relief, it was Adelinde. It made getting caught a little less scary and a lot more tedious, because you knew there was nothing you could do to keep her watchful eyes off of you.

She smiled fondly, too fondly, and finally spoke. “You’re supposed to be resting. Come on, let’s get you some breakfast. Master Diluc is expecting you.” She led you into the dining area.

Pulling back an open seat, Adelinde helped you into your seat, pushing your chair closer to the table while the both of you waited for Diluc to arrive. And once he did she did the same for him and walked outside as he dismissed her. Not once did she look back and it made you nervous for reasons you weren’t sure of. The both of you waited in thick silence for the food to arrive, and once it had he took a few bites before he ordered everyone in the house to give you two some privacy.

It was that moment, that moment right then and there that made you question just what exactly your husband would say or do. Maybe an answer to last night’s little event, or something truly dreadful instead. It was the very minute you happened to look at him that he set down his utensils and spoke at last.

“Are you unhappy?” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just questioned the very existence of you in his life.

You were stunned, but not too much that you couldn’t speak.

“Of course I am! What kind of question is that?” you replied defensively.

Your heart began to pound harshly against your chest, and you could feel the sudden drop of your stomach. Clenching the fork in your right hand you tried grounding yourself, controlling your emotions, but the feeling was so strong you started to cry.

Diluc reached over and gingerly wiped away the stray tear on your cheek. “Please, don’t cry.” You were silent aside from the hurtful whimpers you let out. “I’m not mad.”

Diluc slowly made his way out of his chair and knelt beside yours in an effort to comfort you, but that did quite the opposite. He gently held onto your left hand and looked at you with softened eyes, except for the fact that they were grey and empty. You tried to stop crying but your tears became uncontrollable, and soon you were sobbing into the crook of your right arm’s elbow. It felt like your world was caving, as if your heart stopped and the air was stripped straight from your lungs. The worst part was how you had no clue what was the real problem, that was until you said that loathsome phrase you always did end up blurting out.

“Are.. Are you leaving me?” you asked timidly.

The fear in your voice was evident but you couldn’t find the strength or courage to pretend otherwise. Sometimes when you blurted it out you hoped he wouldn’t answer, just so that there was no choice for rejection. It was better that way you told yourself, even though he had never rejected you. To be frank, if he hadn’t put that worry in your head in the first place, then you wouldn't have reacted this way. But if there’s one thing you learned from this marriage it was that Diluc would show you only what he wanted you to see. So, to the world he was an honest man, a doting husband, and above all, kind, but that was not the reality you lived.

Diluc took both of your hands now and gave them a tight grip, looking you deep in your eyes. “I will never leave you. Okay, sweetheart?”

His words felt less like a promise and more like a threat. You used to have so much more fight in you, but these days you barely had any left. So, you nodded and allowed him to give you a hug before the both of you finished up your breakfast. The remainder of the day was spent watching out the windows of your regal prison, dreaming of the day you could finally feel the sun on your face again. This was the pattern of your every day, from the moment the sun went up and till the very time it fell below the ground; wishing and praying that someday your fate would change. Perhaps that day was closer than you presumed, but you were doubtful.

The pattern continued for weeks, you had constant flare ups and Diluc would consistently refuse to let you leave the house. Until, one day ,the pain had lessened enough to the point where you didn’t need your cane or wheelchair, and instead could truly stretch your legs for once. It was by no means a permanent thing but you wanted to celebrate this small relief, and with what you might ask? A nice walk through the outside breeze of course. Today was the day you were so sure that Diluc would let you outside, or at the very least walk with you.

So, you found a comfortable outfit to wear, looked at your aid with a triumphant smile, and carefully descended down the stairs. You were proud to be able to have a day free of your mobility aid, it was liberating, but you knew once you saw Diluc at the bottom of the steps that something was wrong. Something was very wrong, indeed. Slowly you walked down the staircase and once you were face to face with your husband, you could see his face was that of a truly frustrated and fed up man.

He knows, you thought to yourself.

“You’re late,” he said in a cold tone as he pulled out a chair at the table for you, and helped you into your seat.

You kept your sights on your food as much as you could, because you knew damn well that Diluc could sniff out your true feelings with ease. Making sure to hold eye contact with Diluc as much as you could stomach, you took deep breaths as you readied yourself to ask the question you’d been dying to ask. This all depended on how healthy you appeared, if he caught even a whiff of pain or weakness it was all over for you.

“Sorry,” you said weakly.

Already your heart was banging hard in your ear drums, causing chaos before the eruption had occurred. You both waited patiently, and you, silently, for the remainder of the food to be served to you. Once you had been served the usual meal you were given, you stared at it for a good moment while Master Diluc began digging in almost immediately. Maybe he was in a better mood today, you thought to yourself. Maybe, or maybe not. He soon noticed you hadn’t touched your food and ushered for you to eat.

“Eat,” he demanded, a hint of urgency lingering in his voice, but the overall tone was still harsh.

It was when your teary eyes were long focused on the meal with no urgency to touch it that he raised his brow in suspicion and watched you with an angered expression. It was one thing to try to run away from his hot and cold exterior, but it was another to avoid his good deeds entirely. He set down his utensils with a loud clank and looked straight forward at you, trying his best to contain his rage.

“I said, eat.” He demanded through grit teeth.

This was the side of him that many– no, everyone missed completely. Those close to him didn’t see how cruel and unforgiving he was behind closed doors. They didn’t know that if all your food was not eaten how Diluc would sit there to make sure you ate even just a little more than you could stomach, against your begging wishes, of course. No one, and I mean no one except those that resided in the home, knew about his harsh tendencies. And that meant that not a single soul knew just how horribly he treated his sweet angel of a wife, but maybe it was better that way. After all, if someone like you was stupid enough to stay then maybe you really did deserve all the torture he’d constantly put you through. And you’d think that after his hardened voice demanding you to eat that your fear would kick in and force you to shovel down your food, but you’d be wrong.

“Is there something wrong with the food, my dear?” He asked through grit teeth, again.

You shook your head and tears fell into your food.

Diluc stood up from his seat and stared you down. “Then what is wrong?”

You said nothing. Instead, you continued to cry into your food as Diluc stared down at you like a troublesome child. You just couldn’t stop, no matter how hard Diluc told you to calm down, relax, or ease yourself, it was all to no avail. It only furthered your pathetic tears. Diluc wanted to know the truth, just for you to tell him why you refused to eat, but if you told him the truth he’d only become more angry and you weren't sure you could handle that at the moment. You weren’t sure you could handle this life a moment longer, but unfortunately you didn’t and never had a choice. It was tragic really, but that was life for you.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t tried to leave him before, trust me, you tried, but it was all to no avail. You could hardly make it downstairs without some help, so what made you think you could escape all on your own unscathed. When your family arranged the marriage you blindly accepted, thinking escaping your heartless family must be a better life than if you were to stay, but boy were you wrong. Diluc was sweet at first, kind and gentle just as he is in the public eye, but it wasn’t till the honeymoon that you realized something was terribly wrong. And by time you realized your mistake it was far too late.

“I-” You started to speak, but were quickly cut off by your choking tears.

You tried your best to speak up, say something, anything, but each time you were silenced by gut wrenching cries. The one time you attempted to look up to address the situation you were met with cold, unfeeling eyes and averted your gaze with hiccuping sobs.

“Ugh, will you just spit it out already?” Diluc groaned in frustration.

That only furthered your sobs and worsened it. Your hands tangled into your hair and began to scratch at your scalp for relief, but you only ended up with a sore scalp and traces of blood underneath your fingernails. Your tears grew bigger, your cries louder, and all sense of rationale left your body. The atmosphere was foggy and unclear, like looking into a cloudy looking glass for reasoning and coming up with absolutely nothing in return. You swore you heard a voice through the thickness of it all, but even as you were dragged from your seat in the dining room and led back into the privacy of your own room, you held no grasp on reality. It must’ve been hours, maybe days, or so it felt like, before you started to come to. A strong grip held you close to something, something warm, and rocked you comfortingly as small shushes could be heard near your ears.

It was only moments later that you began to recognize the world around you, and the familiar figure holding you close. Too close. It was none other than Master Diluc. Why he was holding you in such a tender and intimate position, you weren’t sure you knew, but you one thing was for sure, it felt extremely uncomfortable. You writhed in his holding, trying your damnedest to squirm out of his hold, but he was much stronger than you. A pins and needles sensation spread from your hips to the tip of your toes, and you could barely move from your position. Your hands were free aside from the vice grip Diluc had on your arms, almost crushing them as he held you closely. You felt the need to cry all over again, but suppressed it as hard as you could. Thankfully, your attempts worked and this time you remained strong.

You tried to remain quiet and confident, but your confidence was shattered the moment you heard his sweet yet poisonous voice ring through your ears. “You’re awake.”

Unfortunately

“Y-Yes. What happened?” You asked, trying to put the pieces together.

Diluc shifted into an upright position and prepared to tell you some of the truth. He couldn’t have you trying to run off, again. Unfortunately, what Master DIluc didn’t know was that your determination far outweighed any punishment he could potentially give to you. After he explained it to you in his own version, you nodded in agreement and expressed your exhaustion. You wanted to go to bed and forget all about this day., even though it felt like it had just begun. Sure, Diluc had his suspicions as to why you so suddenly wanted to sleep after such a conversation, but he brushed it off as his own paranoia. After all, he’d curated a life that he made damn sure you could never run away from. At least, not without some help.

That night was spent with eyes vigilantly open, wide and observant as you rested your head on the pillow, keeping out for when Diluc would come to bed. If he caught you in bed awake right now he was sure to have a few words, but you’d simply lie and say the pain kept you awake, which wouldn’t exactly be far from the truth, but it wasn’t the truth. You watched out the only window you had in your room, gazing at the open sky full of stars and the full moon and wondered what was taking Diluc so long. What was taking him so long? He should’ve long been in bed by now. So, why was he still hard at work in his study? Regardless of the reasoning you calmed yourself down, trying your best to satiate your impatience, because if you weren’t careful it could very well be the thing that led to your downfall.

It must’ve been about an hour or so later when you heard the heavy footsteps of your husband head up the stairs and then quietly trail into your shared room. You could vividly hear him discard his clothes and climb into what you guessed were more comfortable ones. He kissed you softly on the forehead, foolishly believing you were asleep, and climbed into bed with you. Feeling his hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine, you couldn’t remember the last time you slept without him breathing down your neck, literally. It was awful. Although you were thankful that tonight his vice grip wasn’t holding you in place —making it perfect for your little escape plan— there was still a heavy feeling of discomfort floating throughout the bedroom.

You were patient, and all that patience of yours finally paid off when you heard the light to heavy snores of Diluc behind you. It was time, time to make your escape. It would be tricky getting out of the bed with him in it, but thankfully Diluc was a heavy sleeper. Slowly and very very carefully you removed the blankets from your body and started to slide down to the edge of the bed. Closer.. Closer.. Closer.. Until finally, your legs hung off the edge of the bed. Diluc shifted in his sleep and let out a loud snore which caused you to jump in your own skin, but looking back you saw he was still fast asleep. Letting out a silent sigh of relief you steadied yourself with both hands as you placed both of your wobbly feet to the ground. Now, the next part would prove one of the most difficult tasks, getting your cane. It currently sat in a cage with other canes and umbrellas you owned (not that you ever actually left the house) and could potentially make a lot of noise if you weren’t careful.

Cautiously you tiptoed to the cage and took a slow, deep breath before reaching inside and slowly pulled it out. It was a wooden cane so if hit at just the right amount of speed it could make quite enough noise, not as much as it would if it were metal, but it would be just enough to awaken the young master. With extreme caution you began to pull it out, further and further, until it was almost fully out, but in an unfortunate turn of events your hand began to grow weak and numb and you dropped it. Thankfully, you were able to grab it with your other hand before it could wake up Diluc, but not before it banged against the cage in a painfully loud manner. You froze in place, not moving a single muscle until you heard the light snores of Diluc once again. Carefully pulling out the entire cane you then positioned it as you usually would for the day and used it to help you hold your weight upright, as you gradually turned the doorknob and opened the bedroom door.

Peeking out the door you could so no one and nothing except for the moonlight illuminating the hallway. Now was as good a chance as any to make a run for it, and so you quickly tiptoed down the stairs with the help of your cane to steady you, eagerly walking towards the door the moment your feet touched the first floor. Your hand hovered above the knob as you stopped in shock. Was this it? Were you finally going to leave this miserable and pitiful life to live one full of joy and freedom? It is what you deserved after all, you thought. It’s what you had always wanted and needed. Without wasting a moment sooner you turned the knob and braced yourself for whatever waited for you outside those doors, and stepped outside for the first time in a long time.

It must’ve been summertime because the heat was thick and the air was muggy. If you had been out on a daily or constant basis you were sure you would’ve hated it, but in that moment you loved nothing more than to feel the heat and thick, muggy air. You never realized how beautiful the Dawn Winery was from the outside until just now. Crystalflies flew through the air and around the grape vines. The moon was full and the stars shone brightly in the nighttime sky. It was beautiful, everything you’d always dreamt of and more. The flowers were even more beautiful than you had remembered and they smelt even better than you could’ve ever dreamt of. Everything was perfect, absolutely perfect. That is until you saw the mansion lit up with lights and realized that he and possibly everyone else was awake.

You tried to make a run for it as best as you could but you were stopped by a hand on your wrist pulling you backwards and down onto the ground. You fell into a puddle of mudd, soaking your nightgown as you looked up in horror at the man that was supposed to be your husband. His face was cold and full of fury, you’d never seen him look like this before. This wasn’t like those other times when you tried to take walks, because this time you had actually tried to leave him. Leave him all alone with only his wounded pride and broken heart for comfort. He was seething with rage and all you could do in reply was cry, cry like a child that had been caught with their hands in a cookie jar. You didn’t know what exactly prompted you to cry so much, so hard, and so pathetically, but you continued to do so anyway.

“Come inside, now.” Diluc demanded.

But now that you had a taste of the outside world after such a long time of being deprived of it you wanted more, so you shook your head and rejected his commands. This only further angered Diluc, because he then pulled you up by your forearms and dragged you back inside. You clawed at the door frame trying to stay outside, but he was much stronger than you. He threw you onto the floor and slammed the door shut, proceeding to lock it tightly with a key you’d never seen before. Immediately Diluc started cursing at you, a bright fire in his eyes that consumed his very being began to spread as you realized you had royally fucked up. You couldn’t even focus on a word he was saying because all you could imagine was whatever hell he was about to put you through.

One Week Later…

“Come on, let’s get you all nice and pretty.” Adelinde said, tightening your brand new dress that Diluc had bought you.

It was an apology, a present, but you knew the true nature of the young master, and nothing could fix this marriage, not even your own freedom. You stood there and looked in the mirror as Adelinde fixed your hair with a smile. You too would’ve smiled if it weren’t for the grim reality you faced. Especially on days where Diluc invited over his brother for dinner. Kaeya had no clue of anything that went on in the mansion, not a damn idea, but that didn’t mean he had no suspicions. Kaeya was smart like that, could catch onto things quickly especially being the cavalry captain, and this sort of thing was no different.

After Adelinde had gotten you all nice and ready the two of you descended down the staircase where you ran into Diluc and his brother, Kaeya. Kaeya looked towards you and smiled, helping you down the rest of the way. Kaeya always was a helpful and kind man like that, constantly helping those in need. Sometimes, just sometimes, you wished he’d help you escape this place, but that was a childish dream. The two of you exchanged pleasantries as you all sat at the dining room table and awaited your food. Everything was going well until the events of a week ago started to come flooding in. You tried your best to hide it but with how brightly the sun started to shine through the windows you couldn’t help but miss the heat and the thick air you once touched.

“Are you alright?” Kaeya asked, but you playfully brushed off your odd behavior with laughter and a joke, but he was not convinced.

No, Kaeya was not so easily swayed by the same type of joking behavior he too would use to cover his own emotions. So, he watched you the entire dinner all the way till the end. He noticed how flinched against his brother’s touch and noticed how your gaze always seemed to find itself lined up with the open windows. Something was wrong, something was not right about this and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. He would not let you suffer a moment longer, no matter how impossible the mission seemed. Kaeya wanted to tell you this, he wanted to reassure you that he was going to help you escape, but he could never find the right time with Diluc and Adelinde breathing down his neck as he was sure they did the same, and much worse to you.

It soon came time to say his goodbyes and as he did he locked eyes with you, saying things with them that he would never dare to say out loud in front of the young master. Even though it was just a dinner, and a revealing one at that, he planned to have many more dinners with Diluc in the future, warm up to you, get closer to you, and hopefully gain your trust enough to help you escape this awful, awful place. That is if he didn’t get killed in the process of it all…

#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #yandere diluc x reader #yandere genshin x reader

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anama-cara · 1 year ago

Text

Take care

Boston Era!Joel Miller x you

Part 2

Summary: You're a nurse working in the Boston QZ and when a handsome new patient comes in you just can't help yourself. Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, +18 minors dni, handjob, somnophilia, noncon. reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color or body type

You fucking hate it here- you hate Boston, hate FEDRA, hate your job, hate the world, hate your life. You need some excitement, something new. You're working as a nurse in a dirty QZ hospital. It's such a fucking joke. The hospital (if you can even really call it that) looks like an abandoned building. The lights flicker, the glass windows are shattered, the floor is always covered in grime, some of the brick walls are even crumbling in the front. Whenever a surgery needs to be done they just dip the instruments in a bucket of alcohol, theres no such thing as a sterile procedure anymore. There aren't enough supplies or staff left to properly function as a real hospital. There are only a few doctors for a ton of patients, some people that come in don't even get seen by a doctor. So that's where you come in, the nurses. You aren't even an actual nurse, you've never been formally trained. Before the outbreak you were a radiology tech, and once the QZ was set up they went around asking for anyone who was in the medical field. You volunteered, but you had no idea it'd be for a job like this. They just threw you to the wolves and over the years you've improvised and learned what works. It was messy in the beginning, you were scrambling and scared and had breakdowns almost daily. But now you feel like a hardened nurse, numb to most things.

You're sitting in the "break room" munching on some jerky and absentmindedly kicking at a smudge mark on the ground with your boot.

There's a flurry of commotion the hallway and the door flies open.

"Jen?"

Your friend pokes her head in. "Oh good you're here, come on, we've got an intake. Male in late 40s, early 50s. Stab wound. "

"Is the doc coming to take a look?"

"Nope. Busy. It's on you."

"Me? He's not my patient and I'm supposed to be on break."

She laughs. "Yeah sorry. I would. You know I would. But my plate is full. I got a gun shot wound that's infected that's taking all my time. I wouldn't throw you this one if I didn't know you can handle it."

"Of course Jen. I got your back." You're following her down the hall rushing towards the emergency entrance.

"Thanks. Two guys brought him in." She nods to a room at the end of the hall on the left.

"OK thanks Jen." You give her a nod and head towards your newest patient as she bustles down the corridor.

"Hello I'm- shit." This is the kinda shit you're getting sick and tired of. The men just dumped him and left. Your patient is fully unconscious, laying flat on his back on the exam table, wound still bleeding. This guy needs a doctor, but you're all there is. You sprint for the supplies closet, grabbing alcohol wipes, gauze and suturing materials. With your arms full you rush back to the room. Good thing he's unconscious, you think, because this is going to hurt and the hospital ran out of pain meds long ago.

You tug and rip his flannel shirt open, making the buttons pop off. You're tearing open packets of gauze and trying to clean his wound so you can get a good look at the entry point. Finally after wiping away the dried and fresh blood you get a clean view. You begin disinfecting. There's an open gash about four inches long running underneath his ribs on the right side.

You blow out a deep breath, pull up a chair and get to work closing the laceration.

An hour later you push yourself up, set your instruments aside, wipe the sweat from your brow and look over the stitches. Given the circumstances its looks pretty darn good, you're actually proud of yourself.

You look your patient over, eyes moving past his wound and taking him wholly in for the first time.

He's probably in his early 50s, patchy graying beard, tan skin, ruffled hair. His flannel shirt you ripped open reveals his hard chest and soft tummy. You study his sleeping face, the creases in his brow and the hard angles of his jaw and nose. He's undeniably handsome.

You notice the blood on his flannel and you sigh as you stand up from your stool. You stretch, back aching after leaning over him to sew his wound. You reach for his flannel and begin tugging his limp arms out of the sleeves. You pull the bloody shirt out from underneath him and toss it on a nearby table. His arms are muscular and you notice a few scars here and there. Your hand reaches out on its own accord to lightly trace over a jagged white line on his bicep. He twitches at your touch and your hand quickly pulls away.

You move down to his jeans. After unbuckling his belt you slowly pull them down, trying to be as gentle as possible. Now that the immediate danger of the bleeding stab wound has been dealt with you need to do a physical exam and make sure he has no injuries elsewhere. You toss his pants on the table and walk back to your patient, examining every inch of his beautifully tanned skin. You can get him a hospital gown later. Your hand traces up his leg and you watch it as it moves over his dark hair, over his knee and rests on his thigh at the edge of his boxers. You shift your gaze higher and to your surprise you see his hardened bulge pushing against his boxers. You gulp and your hand lightly glides up and down his inner thigh, tracing along his muscle. You shoot a glance up to his face - he's still out. You look at the closed door and try to listen. You don't hear anyone in the hallway. The only other nurse on duty in your unit of the hospital is Jen and she's definitely still occupied with that gunshot wound...

You reach up and with one hand you pull the waistband and his boxers out while your other hand slips underneath, wrapping around his hard cock. His cock twitches when you first touch him and you smile. You slowly move your hand all the way down, feeling the full length of him. Damn he's got a nice one. You swallow the spit that's pooling in your mouth. You drag your hand back up and your thumb runs through his slit and circles around the head. You look at Joel's face again. He's still completely out but you think his brow looks more furrowed and his mouth a little more opened. You continue to gaze up at him as you twirl around his head, feeling precum beginning to bead at his tip. You swipe and gather it on your index finger before popping it in your mouth. Salty and warm and deliciously masculine. You pull your finger out and hold up your hand as you tounge it, licking your palm and fingers.

Your grab his cock again, pumping him faster now as your hand glides over his warm smooth skin. You hum to yourself as you work.

Minutes later and you feel him tightening. You quickly grab a cloth from the table and tuck it under his boxers just in time. He erupts under your hand, ribbons of messy cum spilling into the cloth. When he's done your pull the cloth out and wrap it up neatly, keeping everything it caught tucked into the middle. Joel's eyelids flutter and he makes a groaning noise. He'll be waking up soon. You place the dirty cloth in the laundry bag and step into the hallway to grab a patient gown from the clean linen cart. You wash off your sticky hand and quickly dress him. You're tidying up your instruments when Joel finally wakes up, groaning as he tries to sit.

"Woah mister careful, you got a pretty good gash in your abdomen there. Easy. Just relax. You're in the hospital now. I'll take good care of you."

You smile pleasantly at him.

#joel miller the last of us #post outbreak joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dead dove do not eat #non con #joel miller one shot #joel x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut

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try-set-me-on-fire · 1 year ago

Note

How about odd socks for the soft prompts?

Eddie tries to write his vows. Poem excerpts from E.E. Cummings’ [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in], Mary Oliver’s The Mango, and Pablo Neruda’s Finale. Plain text version on AO3 here and under the read more!

Dear Buck oh its not a letter

Buck

Evan Buckley (?)

From the day we met, I

I take thee to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part except I don’t want to stop loving you when either of us die. I don’t want to part. Till the glaciers have melted and the oceans have dried up, till Mount Whitney (the tallest mountain in California, I looked it up) is eroded to a molehill, till the heat death of the universe do us part. Maybe that will be enough time

I keep thinking about that time you wore those fucking socks to work and Bobby and everyone were trying to really gently asses if you were having a breakdown because we just see AND YOU’RE GOING TO DIE on your ankle and then you laughed and pulled up your pants and it said “GET LOST IN NATURE AND YOU’RE GOING TO DIE” which like I still think is kind of a fucked up thing to put on a sock but you just did one of your beautiful sunshine grins (we weren’t even together but god I still got light headed looking at you) and were like “I thought it would be neat to remind people the importance of safety in nature” and I was kind of teasing and annoyed and laughed about it and that was like three years ago Buck and I still feel guilty about it because if you were going through some kind of crisis I don’t ever want to be annoyed and laugh about it, I want to be there for you no matter what and I hope I’ve proven that to you over the years, that I don’t just love you on easy days, I love you every single day all the time even when everything’s fucked even if I can’t write wedding vows to save my life christ this is terrible

I love your nose and your birthmark and your eyebrows and your hair and your shoulders and the bends of your elbows, and your wrists and hands, and I love your nipples and hip bones and cock and ass and knees and your shin, I love the scars on your shin, I love every scar you have because none of them killed you

How about

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

But this was a rich house, and clever too.

After salmon and salads,

mangoes for everyone appeared on blue plates,

each one cut in half and scored

and shoved forward from its rind, like an orange flower,

cubist and juicy.

When I began to eat

things happened.

your head on the pillow,

your hands floating

in the light, in my light,

over my earth.

It was beautiful to live

when you lived

The world is bluer and of the earth

at night, when I sleep

enormous, within your small hands.

Before the ceremony I told Shannon “It’s going to be okay” and in the moment I believed it because I had her and I was scared but she was my best friend and up there in front of her parents and mine I said the regular vows but I think that first one was what counted even if it didn’t end up being true. Maybe I’ve been telling you my vows for years. You can have my back any day. There’s no one on earth I trust with my son - with our son - more than you. Every time I tell you I love you, isn’t that a promise?

I’ve been happy before in my life, despite everything I don’t think I was an unhappy man, not always, only sometimes, but you make me happier than I thought was possible. That kind of feeling when you laugh too hard and you’re not getting enough oxygen to your brain. Isn’t that romantic, you give me hypoxia

Here’s the thing you know I’m going to get up there and just start crying immediately so I don’t know why I’m trying so hard to find words I won’t even be able to get out

No hi this is me two hours later of course this is important you’re important you knowing how much I love you is so important to me and I will stand up there blubbering at you for hours if that’s what it takes

I trust you. I love you. I am happy with you. I want to wake up beside you always, Buck I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you next to me first thing in the morning (or night or afternoon or whenever we’ve finished sleeping), touching your warm body with your lungs breathing and your heart beating and the solidity of you feels like a miracle

I’ll buy you socks so your feet don’t get cold and I’ll bring you fruit because you like to eat sweet things and wherever I live will be your home and I’ll be by your side as long as you do me the honor of wanting me there and everything I have and am is yours and I

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #asked and answered

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ladykailitha · 2 years ago

Text

Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 4

Well, @forgottenkanji was the only one that suggested a name, but it was really cool, so I decided why not? Do you know what shovels dig? Graves

Welp, this part has reached over 3k so it’s getting split up. And maybe even an epilogue with that anon’s idea. I know I keep saying we’ll see. But this story has taken life of its own at this point and I’m just putting it out there as it comes.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

And here we get to the party apologizing and Eddie bitching out his friends.

Eddie had band practice after dinner so he kissed Steve on the cheek a little bit before half-time and left. Steve furrowed his brow a bit when he saw Eddie leave but didn’t say anything.

Eddie arrived at Gareth’s house and hopped out of his van. He was pleased to see that all of the other members of Corroded Coffin were already there. He walked up to them grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Eddie!” Gareth greeted. “You ready to start, man?”

Eddie just stood there with his hands on his hips, rocking back on his heels.

Jeff looked around Eddie in confusion. “Hey, dude, where’s your guitar?”

“Oh I didn’t bring it,” Eddie replied cheerfully.

The other three shared glances and the muttering began.

“You see I just recently learned that my best friends gave my boyfriend the shovel talk,” Eddie said brightly. “Best friends who really should have known better considering they know my past and that Steve is a hopeless romantic who is a serial monogamist.”

The muttering stopped and silence fell.

“So I’m just stopping by to let you know that because you and several others made my boyfriend so upset he had a breakdown,” Eddie continued in the same cheerful tone, “that if I hear even one word against Steve...” his voice dropped to the dark and wicked tone he used for his villains, “I will gleefully murder your characters in increasingly violent ways and then burn the character sheets. Mm’kay?”

They all nodded vigorously.

“Great!” Eddie said. “See you on Saturday!” And then turned on his heel and hopped back into his van. He drove off with a cheery wave.

Once he was gone they all looked at each other in shock.

“Wait, did Eddie say several other shovel talks?” Jeff asked after minutes of stunned silence.

“Did he say breakdown?” Gareth asked.

“Shit.”

Steve got into work the following morning only for Robin to throw her arms around his neck.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered. “You just always appear so confident and cool when you’re actually dating that I forgot I know you better than that.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “It hurt Robs,” he murmured. “I thought I was your best friend and you were telling me not break his heart. I just don’t understand why.”

Robin sighed and let go of him. She hopped up onto the counter and crossed her ankles. “Being gay isn’t the same as being bisexual. You have other options if it goes to shit.” Steve’s face soured and she started waving her hands. “Not that I think it will. Of course I don’t! It’s just hard. Not harder. Because believe me I have heard some pretty nasty things people have said about bisexuals from both sides of the aisle. And I just got so wrapped up in the gay aspect of it all that I forgot you have it just as hard.”

He just shrugged and half turned away.

“Shit!” Robin said. “I’m supposed to apologizing and I’m making it worse. I am sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have been dismissive when you asked about Eddie breaking your heart. Because of course you’re concerned about that. Especially after Nancy. I just didn’t think it was possible, because Eddie loves you so much.”

Steve nodded.

She jumped off the counter and threw her arms around him again. “You’re my Platonic soulmate and I love you so much. You deserve people looking out for you, too. And I promise that will be me from now on.”

“I love you, too.” He put one hand on her arm as she held him. They stayed like that until a customer came in.

When Steve got home from work Will was sitting on his front steps.

“Hey, Will, you been waiting long?” Steve asked as he unlocked the front door.

Will stood up and dusted off his pants. “Nope. I knew when you got off and before you ask, Eddie told me.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. It wasn’t uncommon for kids to just drop by. His was one of the few houses among their friends with air conditioning and the only one with a pool.

“Dustin mentioned he’d be stopping by to apologize,” Will said as he wandered through to the kitchen, “and me and El decided that since you are too nice, one of us will be here to make sure the actually apologize and not hand wave what they did away.”

Steve laughed. “If you say so.”

Sure enough about ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. Steve when to go answer it and Dustin, Mike, and Nancy stood there looking sheepish. Will came out and shook his head.

“That just won’t do,” his said. “Two of you will wait in the front room while one apologizes to Steve. I won’t let you cheat with one person apologizing and thinking it counts for all three of you.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah, Will’s my favorite.”

Dustin looked devastated. “I’ll go first.”

Will nodded and followed Steve and Dustin to the kitchen and Mike and Nancy went to wait in the front room.

Dustin sat on the bar stool at the counter and Steve got him a soda. Will leaned up against the sink and watched.

Dustin wrapped his hands around it and sighed. “I didn’t know anyone had given you a shovel talk because when we talked about you and Eddie I thought it was just a joke. And I thought, ‘hey I should tell Steve to go easy on Eddie after the bats because he was still healing’ you know. I didn’t realize that you had taken to me that I didn’t trust you with Eddie, honest!”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “All right so maybe yours wasn’t a shovel talk, but you can see why I might think it was, right?”

Dustin nodded. “You’re a good friend, Steve. And I know we don’t tell you enough, but we really do love you.”

Steve pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dustin cried. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Steve looked over at Will who gave him the thumbs up. Dustin’s was a miscommunication on both their parts.

Dustin exited the kitchen and Nancy came in. She spotted Will standing at the sink and turned to Steve.

“I would rather he not be here for this,” she said, her tone clipped.

“And I would rather have not gotten several shovel talks that took an intervention from your boyfriend to get you people to realize you’d hurt me,” Steve replied. “But here we are.”

She pursed her lips and Will raised an eyebrow at her daring her to press the issue farther.

Nancy decided to take the high road and ignore Will instead. “It was wrong of me to threaten you with my gun collection. I realize that you and Eddie are adults that can make their own decisions.”

Steve and Will looked at each other in disbelief.

“What?” she asked.

“That wasn’t an apology,” Will said.

“I admitted to being wrong,” Nancy said with a frown. “That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, right?”

Steve sighed. And that right there was why they never would have worked. “You’re supposed to be sorry that you hurt my feelings, but I’m getting the impression that you aren’t.”

Nancy sighed. “Your feelings were only hurt because there were so many of them. If it was only me or me and a couple of others, you’d be fine.”

“What?!” Will squawked. “That’s not the point!”

“Nance,” Jonathan said from the doorway. They all turned and looked at him. He was leaning against the doorway, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankle. “This isn’t what we talked about and you know it.”

Nancy looked defeated. She turned back to Steve. “I’m sorry about how I treated you. For all of it. Not just the shovel talk thing. You’re a good person. You deserved better than me and when you got him, I was jealous. Of course I love Jonathan.” She turned to him. “I do!” She turned back to Steve. “But you and Eddie have something so special and...” she threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know.”

“So you gave me the shovel talk about not hurting Eddie,” Steve said, “because you were jealous that I was able to find someone better than you?”

“That makes me sound like a horrible person,” she whispered.

“It really does,” Will agreed.

Nancy crossed her arms and looked at the floor. “I just wanted you realize how special what you have with Eddie is. And instead of talking to you like an actual adult, I threatened you instead. That was wrong and I am sorry. You don’t deserve it.”

Steve pulled her in for a hug, too. “I think this is why we would have never worked out, Nance. I love you and I think I always will. But sometimes you get lost in your head and let it do all the talking. Which means the people around you get hurt.”

She nodded. “I just want people to hear me that I forget they have feelings, too.”

“Just remember that,” he murmured, “and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay...” she said softly.

Steve gave Nancy a squeeze and then let her go.

Jonathan turned to Will. “El’s here, too. Why don’t you go keep her from murdering Nancy and Dustin while I handle the next one?”

Will wavered and then nodded, following Nancy out to the front room.

Steve watched him go with a frown. “What was that about?”

And then Mike walked in and Steve’s eyes went wide and he mouthed, ‘Oh.’

Mike stood there between Jonathan and Steve looking at the ground and Steve was struck by how much alike the two Wheeler siblings were.

“This should be by far the most interesting of the apologies,” Steve said. “Whatcha got, Wheeler?”

Mike looked up at him a little stunned. “At the meeting...intervention? Fuck I don’t know what to call it. But Jonathan said something that stuck with me. That you haven’t been that stuck up prick in years.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Jonathan who just shrugged.

“And it got me thinking,” Mike continued. “Why am I so hostile to you? Because you dated Nancy? But that doesn’t makes sense because I don’t treat Jonathan that way.”

“Did you find an answer?” Steve asked.

Mike shook his head. “And that’s when I realized that I was doing it out of habit.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Being a dick was a habit?”

“Being a dick to you was a habit,” Mike corrected. “And that’s not right. Holding a grudge for something you did so long ago and getting mad at you when you said it bothered you? That’s not fair.”

“Life rarely is,” Steve said softly.

Mike cocked his head. “True, but that doesn’t mean I have to actively make it worse.”

Steve nodded appreciatively. “Also true.”

Mike stood up straighter and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick to you. But I also was only joking about Eddie. For me it wasn’t serious, but hearing that everyone had given you the shovel talk? Holy shit, man, that wasn’t right. The reason I thought it was a joke was because anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with Eddie knows he doesn’t take shit from anyone. If anyone was going to bury you for being a dick to him, it would be Eddie himself.”

Jonathan and Steve glanced at each other and nodded.

“But after I heard that everyone else had done it and meant it?” Mike continued. “Yeah, that was bullshit. So I’m sorry it got out of hand. I’m sorry if my joke added to your suffering. Because I never meant it hurt. Honest.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. I see where you’re coming from and I accept your apology.”

Mike stood there awkwardly tugging at his shirt hem. “Can I get a hug, too?”

Steve smiled and stepped up to wrap his arms around Mike’s shoulders. Mike sighed and leaned into the hug. He didn’t return the hug, but just stood there enjoying the warmth.

After a few moments, he took a step back and cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He sniffled and then turned to Jonathan. “You won’t tell Nancy about this, will you?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

Steve nodded. “I’m not going to tell anyone shit, man.”

Mike relaxed. “Right. Thanks.”

And he shuffled back to the front room, still sniffling.

“That was certainly something,” Jonathan said after a moment.

Steve chuckled shaking his head. “Those Wheeler kids, whew.”

Jonathan laughed. “Happy to have dodged that bullet?”

“You have no idea, man,” Steve said. “You have no idea.”

***

Part Five Part Six

Tag List: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @telidina @stevesbipanic @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @jonesn4coffee @resident-gay-bitch @obliosworld @croatoan-like-its-hot @evix-syne666 @emly03

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #jonathan and steve are friends #ladykailtiha writes

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skyfallslayer · 8 months ago

Text

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Four

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

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: Refusing to believe that the kids are dead, Joyce tries to connect with her son and Steph. The boys give Eleven a makeover in order to connect with their loved ones. Hopper turns up his detective game. Steve has a slight breakdown, while Nancy and Jonathan form an unlikely alliance.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 13,951

🎲Date: 7/4/24

🎲Warnings: Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Talks of Mental Health Issues; Bullying of All Kinds; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death"; Crying; Talks of Corpses; Heavy Alcohol Consumption; Unwanted Touching; Suggestive Dialogue; One Comment About Being A Pedo; The Byers Family's Mental Strain; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Gangster & A Total Mess; Jessica & Charles Harrington's A+ Parenting; Steve's 'Asshole Era'; Steve's Emotional Damage. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Happy 4th, everyone! What a better way to celebrate then with an angsty fic? Heads up, this does contain less of us being in the Upside Down, and there's a reference to Hopper's childhood with Joyce and Claudia. There's also a bit of a mystery surrounding Steph and Dustin's father, so keep that part buried in your mind for future chapters. Also... there's a bit of a cameo in here I think everyone will enjoy :)

Nancy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The view of the quarry on the TV made her feel sick. She wants to change the station but she can’t – none of her family can’t because the news is so shocking. It wasn’t until her little brother came home, tears streaming down his face and running into their mother’s arms for comfort, that she realized it was all real.

After a few minutes of gathering her strength, she manages to slip into the kitchen to grab the phone, dialing a number close to heart. She wipes the corner of her eyes, trying to put up a good front before the call. She has to be the strong one here, especially since–

Then the other lined beeps followed by a voice that says,

[ ‘Sorry, the number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later, or leave a message after the tone, and hang up when you’re finished.’ ]

“Shit.” She whispers, and waits for the beep again. “Steve, it’s Nancy, it’s…” She sighs. “Listen, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Just give me a call back, please.”

She hangs up, taking a moment to think. Whether he admits or not, she knows he still cares in some way for Stephanie. And he’s not going to be in the best state if he’s seen the news.

Not even thinking twice about this sudden thought, Nancy grabs her car keys out of the bowl, ignoring when her parents asked her a question and leaves out the front door.

She just has to know if he’s okay.

That’s it.

That’s all she needs to know and do.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will was… mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted. Heavy on the latter. They thought they were finally doing well, they thought they were finally going to get an answer –a way to get back– but every time they tried, they get back to square one.

The beast that had no face, its growls could send shivers down their spines and curse their souls, kept finding them. But how? It had no eyes, no nose, no ears, just a mouth hidden its folds; How could such a thing keep finding them? And that voice…

The voice was new. And for some reason it scared him more than the beast.

// I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING. //

I know what you’re doing.

What does that mean? Could the monster actually speak? Was someone else in this place with them? Did someone or something not want to escape? What is it? What is the answer? What can they do?

He doesn’t know who slowed down first, but they eventually stopped somewhere in the trees. Will was taking in the cold, dirty air, a tickle was blooming in his throat while doing so. He felt like he was on the verge of getting sick, probably the temperatures doing, but didn’t want to express his concerns. They had other problems to worry about.

“What are we going to do?” He asked, unaware of the older girl’s swaying moments and gaze going distant. “Do we go back? Do we try another place? But that’ll probably be a waste right? But can really go back with that–”

“I’m s-sorry…” She whispers that it turned into a small pant. It was enough for him to turn around and question:

“Why?” He manages to spill out before her body drops like a stack of dominos. “Stephanie!!” He lunged forward, his tiny body was only good enough to cradle her head. “No… No…”

He starts ripping everything on her away, the shotgun, her backpack, and holding her sleeping head in her lap. He knew this would have happened sometime soon, especially when she admitted earlier that she hasn’t slept since getting stuck here, too worried about his safety rather than her own, and now look where that’s gotten her.

“Steph… come on. W-Wake up. Pl-Please…” Will pleads, lightly tapping her cheek. “Come on. You can’t do this to me now… w-why is this happening n-now?!”

Stranded in the woods, a monster lurking somewhere in the dark.

What was a twelve year old boy going to be able to do? It’s not like he can carry her and all their belongings somewhere, right?

He couldn’t help but start crying, like a child scared of the creature under his bed, and started holding the teenager close like she was his lifeline.

“♪ C-Come o-on and l-let me know ♪” He whispers, face pressed against hers. “♪ Sh-Should I-I stay or should I g-go? Should I-I stay or should I go now? If I g-go th-there will be trouble. If I stay it will be double– ♪”

He sobs, shaking. “St-Stephanie…”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Telling a family about their loved one was never easy, especially since the deceased were from families he knew personally growing up. He still spoke carefully though after him and his men looked around the house just in case they missed something. He spoke softly, not wanting to hurt her anymore than she probably is.

“A trooper found something in the, uh… water that’s at the Quarry. Our working theory right now is that Stephanie… crashed her car, and they... made their way over the Quarry and, uh… accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way.” Hopper explains, but he can tell she’s not listening (at least not fully). “Joyce? Joyce? Do you understand what I’m saying?

“N-No…” She trembles, in denial. “Whoever you found… is not my boy. It’s not Will.”

“Joyce.” He says, reaching out to touch her shoulder, which she shrugged off.

“No, you don’t understand. I talked to him… a half hour ago.” She sniffles, and tries to remember every detail. “He was... He was here. He was... He was talking with these.” She gestures to the lights. “Him and Stephanie. Th-They both were here.”

“Talking?” Hopper asked, his composure breaking. It was like looking in the mirror for him. He remembers the denial, the pain of losing a child of his own.

“Uh-huh. One blink for yes, two for no. And... And, uh…” She then points to the alphabet wall. “And then I made this so they could talk to me. ‘Cause they were hiding… from that... that thing.”

“The thing that came out of the wall? The thing that chased you?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Mom, come on, please.” Jonathan begs, heart breaking for his own mother. “You’ve gotta stop this.”

“No, maybe they’re… It’s after them!” She snaps, grabbing onto her son for his support, both physically and emotionally. “They’re in danger. We have to find Them! We—”

“What exactly was this thing? It was some kind of animal, you said?” Hopper asked, as she shook her head.

“Uh, no, it was… It was almost... human, but it wasn’t. It… It had these long arms and... it didn’t have a face.”

“It didn’t have a face?” His gaze meets the teenager’s, and he silently tells him to leave. Jonathan does, running off somewhere to cry himself. “Joyce–”

“It didn’t have a face…”

“Joyce, listen to me.” He helps her sit down on the couch, and he kneels before her. “Listen to me.” He starts getting teary eyed too. “After Sarah… I saw her, too. And I heard her. I didn’t know what was real. And then I figured out that it was in my mind. And I had to pack all that away. Otherwise, I was gonna fall down a hole… that I couldn’t get out of.”

“No, you’re... you’re talking about grief.” She shakes her head again. “This is different.”

“I’m just saying that you–”

“No, I-I know what y-you’re saying, Hop. I sw-swear to you, I-I know what I saw. And I’m n-not crazy.”

“I’m not saying that you’re crazy.”

“N-No... You are. And I understand, but… God, I…” She sobs. “I need you to believe me. Please.” She then whispers, “Please.”

“Listen…” He takes her hands into his own. “I think you should go down to the morgue tomorrow and see him for yourself. It’ll give you the answers that you need. But tonight–”

“Oh, God…”

“-I want you to try to get some sleep, if you can.”

“Sl-Sleep?” She asks him, and he nods. She couldn’t comprehend this, couldn’t understand why he won’t believe her. She thought she could trust him, they’ve known each other through thick and thin and he’s just going to forget about all that? That’s…

That’s bullshit.

She shakes her head, pushing his hands away. “I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. And no one, I mean NO ONE, is going to change my mind.”

Hopper’s expression deepens. “Joyce–”

“Get out of my house.” She spats, and leaves the room.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The black BMW pulled onto Cornwallis Road and drove towards the destination he still has in the back of his head. The radio was up, a song that was setting the mood, or matching it more likely.

[ ♪ If you leave me now

You’ll take away the biggest part of me

Ooh, no, baby, please don’t go ♪ ]

His hands regripped the wheel, trying not to cry again.

[ ♪ And if you leave me now

You’ll take away the very heart of me

Ooh, no, baby, please don’t go

Ooh, girl, I just want you to stay ♪ ]

He starts to slow, parking off to the side, a curb across the street where he needed to be.

[ ♪ A love like ours is love that’s hard to find

How could we let it slip away? ♪ ]

He saw the lights were on, he saw her brother’s bike in the grass and her mother’s car in the driveway. He knows they’re both home, but did they know the news like he did?

[ ♪ We’ve come too far to leave it all behind

How could we end it all this way?

When tomorrow comes and we;ll both regret

The things we said today ♪ ]

Steve swallows, debating whether or not he should go up there. Will Stephanie’s mom remember him at all? Will her little brother Dustin tackle him as soon as he remembers their history? But despite their shaky past, he still owes the family his condolences, right?

But just as he was about to get out of the car, he perked up at the sound of sirens coming down the road, and could see the blue and red lights flashing in the night sky.

Huh. Maybe they didn’t know. Yet even after the swarm arrived in front of the Henderson home, Steve couldn’t help but stay and wait.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Claudia was hysterical, probably more than Joyce was; Yet, she was also more accepting about their theory. Hopper repeated it again, the mother was sitting down with her youngest on the couch. “A trooper found something in the water that’s at the Quarry. Our working theory right now is that Stephanie crashed her car, and they made their way over the Quarry and, uh… accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way.”

Claudia sobbed into her handkerchief. “Oh, my poor baby. Poor Will.”

“I’m so sorry.” He frowns, his face softens again too. “I know this is going to sound hard, but can you come down to–”

“That’s bullshit.” Dustin interrupted, finally speaking. His face was still puffy and his eyes were red. From being a complete mess earlier, he now looks like he was full of rage.

Hopper blinks, confused. “What?”

“That’s a bullshit theory!” He yells, jolting up.

“Dustin!” Claudia scolds.

“What? It is!” He points to himself. “M-My sister is smarter than that! Will’s smarter than that! It doesn’t matter if they were being chased, they wouldn’t have fallen into the Quarry!”

“Dustin!” She says again, and then looks at the other adult. “Chief, I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand.” Hopper replies, accepting the apology. Now it was his turn to look at the kid, treading water carefully. “Look, Son–”

“Don’t call me that!” Dustin says, shaking his head.

“Kid–”

“Then where’s the shotgun?!” He replies, making Hopper’s heart sink (He didn’t even think about that). “Huh? You found their bodies, then where’s the gun? And why did they take the gun in the first place? What made them run off the road? Who was chasing them? You aren’t answering any of the obvious fucking questions–”

“Dustin!” Claudia yells, grabbing her son by his wrist. “Show some respect.”

“Fuck, respect.” Dustin pulls himself free. “He ain’t doing his job.” And then he storms out of the room, his mother calling out his name and apologizing once again.

“No, don’t be.” Hopper reassures. “He just lost his only sister. I understand.”

She nods slowly. “Okay. What were we saying before he interrupted?”

“Just, in the morning, if you can, come down to the morgue to verify Stephanie’s body. I’ll already be there with Joyce and her son.”

“O-Okay. I can do that.” She takes a shaky breath. “Hopper?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you… for trying to bring her home these past few days.”

His eyes widened slightly, not really expecting that kind of reaction. He was honestly stunned and felt like a failure again. “Claudia–”

“No. Don’t.” She takes his hand, giving a gentle squeeze. “I’ve known you since middle school, I know how your mind thinks sometimes. So please don’t feel guilty. I know you were giving it your all to find these kids. Even though… I-It was… a t-terrible outcome, you still found my daughter. You still brought her home.” Another squeeze. “So thank you. James.”

Hopper was speechless, ending up just giving her a nod and a promise to see her tomorrow. As he steps outside, he swallows the urge to start crying again.

“You going to be okay, Chief?” Callahan asked, meeting him halfway down the driveway.

“I’ll be fine.” Hopper replies, a half-lie. “I just need to…” He trails off when he sees a certain someone across the way. What is he doing here?

Callahan follows his gaze, confused. “Hey, isn’t that the Harrington boy?”

“Wrap everything up. I’ll meet you at the station.” Hopper leaves him behind and starts walking towards his target.

“I was going to pay my condolences but I saw you guys pull in.” Steve says, leaving against the driver door with a sad expression.

“Kind of creepy for someone who says they aren’t friends anymore.” Hopper pokes, hands on his hips – all business again.

“Just because we’re not friends, doesn’t mean I’m an asshole. I mean, this house was practically my second home growing up.” It kind of hurts to say that. He looks down, can’t even look the man in the eye while asking this question, “So is it true?”

“Yeah.” Hopper says, sadly. “It is. I… saw the bodies myself.”

Steve shifted his weight around, his chest feeling tight. “Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

The police chief reverted back to the same look he was giving Joyce earlier, slight pity but also disbelief. “For Christ’s Sake. Not you too.” What was with all this in denial? “Look, son, I–”

“Are you going to be there at the morgue?”

Well that was a weird question. “Yes. I will be.” Hopper pauses. “Why?”

Steve shifted again, this time looking the adult in the eye. “‘Cause… there’s probably going to be something on… her body that her family’s not going to be able to explain. It’s…” He sighs. What am I even doing? She’s… gone. The Chief saw her body. This is all real it’s–

“Son?” Hopper said, getting a hum. “Continue? What do you mean about her family not going to be able to explain?”

He swallows, and stands straighter. “When we were kids, there was a… a bit of an accident, something we weren’t supposed to do, so we kept it a secret from our parents. However, it left us with a scar each.” He rolls up his sleeve, showing a huge pink gash on his left bicep. “Hers is on her left shoulder, close to her neck. I just thought when her mother sees her body you can explain the situation to her.”

His blue eyes rake over the scar, thinking. “You said it was a scar?” Hopper asked, getting a nod. “You know scars tend to fade over some time.”

“I know. But hers was much deeper than mine.” Steve pulls his sleeve back down. “If mine’s still here, I’m pretty sure hers is too.”

He takes a minute to process this. “Okay.” This was still leaving a weird feeling in his chest. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He has to, but how the fuck is he going to explain the still secretive accident to Claudia? He sighs. “Aren’t you going in?”

Steve shook his head. “Probably not.” His sad eyes fell on the house. “How distraught are they?”

“Her mother’s a mess, but is accepting, can’t say the same thing for her brother. If looks could kill, he would have.”

“Gotcha. I’ll just…” He swallows, eyes starting to sting again. “Say my condolences at the funeral.” Steve opens his door up, not making eye contact with the adult. “‘Night, Chief.”

“Hey.” Hopper says, stopping the door from being closed. But as soon as their gazes locked, his brain went to a halt. What else could he say? “Nevermind. Get home safe, ‘Kay?”

The teenager nods, letting his door be closed before pulling away. Hopper’s not sure why but…

He feels like he’s missing something here.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin was curled up in a ball on his bed. He was hugging a pillow tightly, tears quietly rolling down his face. He didn’t think he had anymore tears left in him, but they just kept on coming.

His sister is dead.

If he didn’t see her body himself, he wouldn’t believe it.

No more nights of bothering her to watch some cheesy movies.

No more waking up fighting over the bathroom and eating breakfast together.

No more friendly, stupid banters about cryptids.

No more listening to her about customers driving her up the wall.

No more could he slip under the covers with her when a nightmare overtakes him.

No more could he wait by the front door for her so they could go to school.

No more of… anything. It was just him and his mother now. Just him and his mother to make ends meet.

He choked on the memories, gripping the pillow tighter. “Phanie…”

The sound of static makes him jolt upright. Heart skipping a beat, he realizes it was coming from his bag. He groans, a mixture of frustration and sadness. He wasn’t in the mood for anyone right now, not even his friends. He just wanted to grieve in peace until at least morning.

He wiggles his walkie talkie out, pulling the antenna all the way up and pressing the button. “Look, guys, please leave me alone. I don’t want to talk right now. Okay?”

He lets go of the button, waiting for a reply that was nothing more than static came, followed by–

[ ♪–on and let me know ♪ ]

He drops the walkie like it was made of fire and practically jumps a few feet back. The static was loud, but you couldn’t miss that voice. That voice coming from the speaker sounded a lot like–

[ ♪ Should I stay or should I go?

Should I stay or should I go now?

If I go there will be trouble

If I stay it will be double– ♪ ]

He heard a sob, and a whisper of,

[ St-Stephanie… ]

Dustin’s eyes widened with realization. There’s no way he could miss that. He almost felt like crying again.

“...W-Will?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy’s knuckles knocked on the door thrice, before trying the doorbell. She crossed her arms when the wind blew harder, wishing she had enough time to grab a sweater or something before she left. She tries the door again after silence, this time the door springs open. She’s met with a woman who was taller than her, dark locks a complete mess, face flushed red.

She batted her eyes at the girl while clinging to the door. “May I help you?”

“Uh… is, uh, St-Steve home?” Nancy asked, trying to keep her gaze up high on the woman that was clearly wearing just a bra and panties.

“Steven?” She hissed, defensively. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m… Nancy, his girlfriend.” She recognizes the voice. “I think we spoke on the phone–”

“OH! NANCY! Yes! The Wheeler, girl. Yes, I remember. Awe…” Jessica Harrington reached up and pinched her cheek. “You’re just as adorable as I imagine.”

“Um, t-thanks. Uh–” Nancy wouldn’t be lying if she wasn’t already feeling uncomfortable. “Is this a bad time? I can come back–”

“No, no, no. Never. Never, dearie.” She said, practically dragging the teenager inside. “Come in, Steven should be back any minute now.” She shuts the door, head turning in another direction. “Charles, are your pants on? Our son’s girlfriend is here.” She smiles. “So how did you two meet? Are you in the same class?”

“Um–”

“So you’re our son’s lover?” Charles Harrington slurred out as he came literally stumbling into the hallway. Face as red as a tomato, hair disheveled and missing his shirt. “I never understand why Steven decided to hide you. You seem so nice.”

“Uh, thank– thank you.” Nancy said, hiding the urge to scrunch up her nose at his alcoholic breath. “Look, if he isn’t here, I’ll catch him in the morning–”

“Nonsense. You should stay.” Jessica urges. “It’ll be nice to get to know you.”

“Yes. Please–” His hand comes up to the girl’s shoulder. “Come sit with us.”

Nancy, this time, visibly shuddered. “I–”

“Get your hand off her, Dad.” Steve’s voice echoed out as he entered through the back door. His face seemed calm, but nobody could miss the fear in his eyes and the anger that was making his hands into fists.

“Steve?”

“Steven!” His mother exclaimed, all bubbly. “We were just getting to know your girlfriend.”

Steve gets between them, pulling Nancy close and away. “Mom, please, put a robe on. Dad, a shirt.”

“Yeah, son.” His father said, his hand coming around and grabbing a firm hold of the front of his child’s sweater. “How come we weren’t informed about this news, hmm? How could you do this to me and your mother?”

A bead of sweat rolled down Steve’s face, as he started pushing his girlfriend towards the door subtly. “Um, well, Dad–”

“You better have a good explanation.”

“Yeah, Steven.” Jessica said, her hand finding his forearm. “What gives?”

“‘Cause we-we’ve only been dating for a week.” Steve spits out the lie.

Nancy flashes him a look of confusion. “A week?”

“Yeah.” He gives a look now, hoping she gets it. “A week, Nancy.” He then sees the realization in her eyes.

“Yes.” She smiles and chuckles. “Well, it’s a week and a half, actually..”

“Oh, you and your technicality.” He smiles too, hand reaching back to the door knob. “That’s what won me over in math class. Uh, Listen, Mom, Dad, uh, we’ll have to plan a proper dinner out so you get to know Nancy. Okay?”

“Sure she doesn’t want to stay over for a bit?” His mother asked, with a look he didn’t like. “We don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t. But it is a school night, and it’s late. We also got uh, uh, a huge test tomorrow. So we should get some rest, you know?”

She frowns. “Awe. Okay. We can definitely plan a date.”

“Perfect! We can talk about it later, uh–” Steve opens the door and manages to get out his parents’ holds. “Just going to walk her back to her car.”

“Like a proper gentleman.” She smiles again, and gaze trails to the Wheeler. “You definitely scored with my son.”

“Oh, for sure. I agree.” Nancy said, getting forced outside.

“Be right back.” Steve replies, stepping out too and shutting the door.

“Steve– Hey!” He grabs her hands and strings her along quickly; She felt like they were sprinting down the driveway. “Steve?” She tests out his name as he takes a look back at his house before picking up the speed. “Steve! Talk to me! What is–”

“Don’t come to my house.” He blurts out the moment they are in front of her car.

She blinks. “What?”

“Don’t…” He exhales. “Don’t come to my house. At least at night. ‘Cause my parents like to… party, or…” He groans. “Actually, don’t come to my house alone. When my parents are here, make sure you only come when I’m there or I’m with you, alright? Do you understand?”

No, she certainly does not. “Steve, what do you mean? Why don’t you–”

“Did my mom say anything?”

Another blink. “What?”

“Did my dad do anything? Like… h-how uncomfortable were you? B-Be honest, Nance.”

“Steve, I don’t…” She trails off when she finally sees him whole. He seemed so… distraught. And she knows it’s probably not just about the sour news of Stephanie. For some reason, he’s scared of her going into his house. “Steve.” She tries again, softer. “What’s going on? Are your parents hur–”

“Why are you here, Nancy?”

She frowns, worriedly. “I was just wondering if you heard the news?”

Steve looks down at his feet. “About Will and Stephanie?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “I-I heard…”

Nancy gently cups his face. She could see the corner of his eyes were red and irritated. Crying. Steve must have been crying. “Are you okay?”

Steve stayed quiet, building up the courage to speak – to make it sound confident. “Yeah. I’m fine. It just… caught me off guard.”

“You sure? You can talk to me. I’m not going to–”

“How’s your brother?”

She bites her lip. “Mike’s… really upset. I mean who wouldn’t be when it’s your friend.”

Steve hums. “Maybe you should go back. Check in on him.”

“But, Steve–”

“I appreciate you coming over and making sure that I’m okay.” A bittersweet look blooms on his face. “Really. Your compassion is one of the things I love about you. But I think you should go home to your family. They’re probably wondering where you’re at.”

She shakes her head. “Steve–”

“As for my parents, forget about tonight. I’ll… I promise I’ll explain them to you one day, but for now, just forget you ever met them. Okay?”

She gave in, not wanting to argue. “Okay.”

“Thanks.” He gives her a quick kiss, and pulls away. “See you tomorrow.”

“Night…” Her blue eyes trail him as he heads inside, a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. Was he going to be alright? Should she call someone? Should she–

A twinge snapped behind her.

She turns around, the sound coming from the woods. She squinted and took a small step – a shadow moved across the bushes – tall, lanky… no face– What?

She heard the shadow shift around again, and then swore she heard a growl coming from it. Paling instantly, Nancy took small steps back towards her car, feeling around for the handle. Once she grasps it she gets in, hands tightly on the steering wheel. Swallowing, she takes one look back over her shoulder, the shadow to have disappeared into the beyond.

Death.

Disappearances.

A thing with no face.

What the hell is happening to Hawkins?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help himself! He knows what he heard, he knows that was Will. He couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, his mind in overdrive on what and why and how this was even possible. But sometime in the night, an idea hit him hard.

The next morning, he made sure his mother was okay, and fit enough to go to the morgue. She already told him the night before that he should stay home, playing the kid card on him. Usually, he would have been upset at this statement, but this time he decided it was time to hold his tongue. As soon as Dustin saw the car leave, he wastes no time to pop open his walkie talkie antenna, tuning into a certain channel.

“Lucas, do you copy?” He said, waiting. He was met with static, but he just knows his friend is nearby and listening (His friends are never far away from their source of communication). “Lucas, come on, I know you’re there! This is urgent.”

Nothing.

“I’m serious. I’m not gonna stop until you answer.”

Nothing again.

“Lucas. Lucas! Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas–”

[ ‘Go away, Dustin. I’m not in the mood, all right? Over and out.’ ]

“No, not ‘out’. I’m not messing around, okay?” He starts pacing around his living room. “This is about Will and my sister. Over.”

[ ‘What about them? You mean about their funeral? Over.’ ]

“No, not their funeral. Fuck their funeral!”

[ ‘W-What?’ ]

“Just get over to my place, stat. And tell Mike to bring Eleven too.”

[ ‘Eleven? Why? She’s the reason–’ ]

“JUST DO IT! OKAY!” He yells, face red, open hand in a fist. “Over and out!”

[ ‘Dustin–’ ]

Dustin pushes the antenna down and shuts the device off. He knows Lucas will listen, even if he thinks he’s lost his mind, he’ll still listen. His eyes fall on a family picture on one of the side tables, his heart skipping a beat.

“Don’t worry, guys. We’re going to find you no matter where you are.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, down at the Coroner’s office, Hopper waited impatiently for… what? Half an hour now? He sighs. “What’s taking so long?”

“Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.” The receptionist, Patty said, upset as well.

Hopper perks up at this news. “Without Gary?” That doesn’t make sense. “Where’s Gary?”

“Well, I thought you knew. Those men from State, they... they sent Gary home last night.”

“So who did the autopsy?”

“Someone from State.”

Someone from State? I mean, the crime scene made sense, but the autopsy? Why would they send someone to an autopsy? On two kids no less? He wanted to ask more questions, but that’s when the oldest child of the Byers’ family came out looking sick to his stomach.

Hopper can tell he was trying to hold it all together the best he could. Poor kid.

“How’s your mom doing?” He asked, after a while of silence.

Jonathan sniffled, head still hanging low. “I don’t know.” He whispers.

“How long’s this stuff been going on? With the lights and, uh… Will and the thing in the wall?”

“Since the first phone call, I guess.” A sob. “You know, she’s had anxiety problems… in the past. But this… I don’t know.” He exhales shakily. “I’m worried it could be…” He shakes his head. “Ugh, I don’t know. She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. My mom… she’s tough.”

“Yeah, she is.” Hopper said, getting a chuckle out of the kid. He then placed a firm hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey. She is.”

That got Jonathan to cheer up for just a second before it crashed down again. Joyce came storming out, the coroner following behind with a clipboard asking her to sign; Which she’s flat out refusing.

“I don’t know what you think that thing is in there, but that is not my son!” She shouted, waving him off.

“Joyce, wait a second.” Hopper said, standing.

“No!” She snapped, and hustled out the door, Jonathan following right behind. As soon as she leaves, it was like a chain reaction, because Claudia just arrived.

She already had a hand covering her mouth at the sight of seeing Joyce. “I-I… I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Hey, hey–” Hopper comes over reassuringly. “Hey, Claudia. It’s okay. I know it’s hard, but it is necessary.” He sees her closing her eyes to steady herself. “Would you like me to come in?” She nods. “‘Kay. Let’s go. Come on.”

He walks her to the back, telling the coroner who they’re here for, and was left waiting for him to get the body.

“I don’t know how to thank you, James. You’ve always seemed to help my family when we’re in a rut.” Claudia said, trying to hold it together.

“Just doing my job.” He replies, with a warm smile.

“Still.” She looks up at him fondly. “I don’t think I appreciated you enough when you helped put Walter away.”

Walter. He remembers her shitty husband very clearly.

He nods. “Well, if it wasn’t for that anonymous tip, I wouldn’t have been able to have done that.”

She hums. “Yes, the tip.” She sighs. “I wonder who has the guts to do that.”

Yeah, he always wondered who the tipper was too.

“You ready, Ma’am?” The coroner asked, after wheeling on the table.

Claudia nods, her hands squeezing together. “Yes.” She inhales. “Show me.”

He does so, and she holds back the urge to cry again upon seeing her daughter’s body. She couldn’t help but wonder why God would take such a beautiful girl.

“Oh, god… that’s her.” She mutters, biting her lip.

As Hopper was able to keep his composure, he was suddenly hit with a memory like a speeding truck. He almost completely forgot about what the Steve Harrington kid told him last night.

“When we were kids, there was a… a bit of an accident, something we weren’t supposed to do, so we kept it a secret from our parents. However, it left us with a scar each.” He rolls up his sleeve, showing a huge pink gash on his left bicep. “Hers is on her left shoulder, close to her neck. I just thought when her mother sees her body you can explain the situation to her.”

The scar. Of course! How could he forget? His lips tugged into a frown, and began with, “Claudia, there’s…”

Wait a minute.

His gaze went straight for where the boy told him the scar would be but there was…

Nothing.

He blinked and looked on the other shoulder just to be sure but there was nothing either. If Steve’s scarred, then hers should have been, right?

“Chief?” Claudia said, pulling him out of his trance. “Did you say something?”

His eyes glance at her and then back at the body before shaking his head. “No.” Then back at her. “Never mind.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve was late to school the first time in a while. His clothes looked a bit sloppy, his hair did too, and he was practically dragging his backpack on the floor with only its handle. He had managed to avoid the girlfriend talk this morning with his parents since they were both hungover and still in bed. He’s not really sure how he’ll handle it later (If they actually remember Nancy that is).

He took his time moving through the halls, trying to straighten up his posture, to put up somewhat of a nice expression. What would Tommy and Carol say? Would they belittle him? Ignore him? Pretend that the death of a school student didn’t exist? And what about Nancy? Will she say anything? Will she ignore him too?

He frowns, the intercom buzzing above.

// Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Stephanie Henderson in the gymnasium 10am. Do not go to second period. Classes shall resume afterwards. //

An assembly? For Stephanie? How many people will actually go? How many people would actually be respectful? She wasn’t exactly miss popular.

He shakes his head. Don’t even think that, Harrington. It’ll be fine. It’ll be…

He trails off as soon as he rounded the corner. He didn’t need super sight to know what it was. For some reason instead of leaping towards it like he should be, he was slow, sick by the sight. Someone, probably more than one, had vandalized her locker. Someone had spray painted, egged, beat the living hell out of it with either a bat or a crowbar, all because she was what? The weird girl? The girl who was nerdy? The girl who likes stuff only guys like? The girl who’s vocabulary is like a sailor?

The girl who doesn’t fit in unless it’s with the “freaks”?

With disgust, Steve pulled off the missing poster of her. Someone had scribbled horns, covered the eyes, and called her a freak in bright red. How could someone with a heart do this to the one of the kindest girls he’s ever met?

He crushed the paper in his hand, before opening up the locker, some belonging falling out. He sighs, dropping his bag before deciding to tidy this up. Maybe he should bring her family her things so they don’t have to see this mess?

“Hey, shouldn’t you be in class?” A teacher, Mrs. Trebecky said, hands on her hips.

Steve glances over at her, his look telling it all. “I’m just trying to clean it up.” Her eyes trail over, finally seeing what he was talking about. Yet he didn’t care if he got scolded or got detention for skipping class, this was more important. But to his surprise, there was a key suddenly dangling in his face.

“There’s a storage closet around the corner. Use whatever you need.” She replies, and he takes it. “I have to prepare the gym for the assembly, but if you need something else, feel free to come get me.”

Steve clenches the key close as she leaves, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. At least she wasn’t mad.

He starts walking to where she said it was, only to spot another odd sighting. There was a boy (who looked oddly familiar to him) leaning against the wall right by the door – the same door that was actually opened. Raising an eyebrow and slowing his pace, he didn’t know what to think or even say before the boy saw him coming. It was like a match had been lit under his feet, the boy jerked up so quickly, and threw the door open even wider.

“We’ve been spotted! We gotta go!” He shouted and took off.

Steve then watched as two other teenagers came running out, faster than anyone on the football team. What the hell is that all about?

But he chose to ignore it, opening the door fully, nearly clashing with some else that was left behind in the group. The person seemed startled to see him, taking a small step back and growing a bit paler. It didn’t take the King of highschool to realize who this is – the person with brown curls tucked back in small ponytail, with a wardrobe that reminded him of Stephanie – The person was know another than:

Eddie Munson.

Well now he knows why he looks scared. Steve nearly cringes and cusses at himself out loud for what he’s done in the past. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Instead, he kept his blank expression and started moving around him. “Didn’t mean to startle you, Munson.” He replies, looking over all the cleaning supplies on the shelf.

“It’s…” Eddie begins, still tense, but confused by how simple and nice Steve sounded. “Fine. Um… Wh-What brings you here? N-Need something?”

“Relax, I’m not here to cause any trouble.” Man, how many people has he hurt with his new personality? “I was going to clean up a vandalized locker.”

Eddie perks up, even more confused. “The Henderson girl’s locker?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… surprising.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Steve frowns, sparing a glance. That’s when he notices he’s holding a few sponges and a bucket. “Oh. Were… were you going to clean?”

“Um–” Eddie breaks his gaze. “M-Me and my boys saw it on our way in, thought we would clean it up. Hope I don’t get in trouble for picking the lock.” He ends with a quiet, nervous chuckle which honestly fueled the other boy’s guilt.

“Is that so?”

“Well… W-we do know what it’s like to have our lockers destroyed by the… ‘perfectionists’.”

Perfectionists, fuck. Steve swallows and mentally strangles himself. What have I done?

He exhales quietly, and starts gathering things. “You should go.”

Eddie’s distant gaze snapped right back at him. “What?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Steve says, not looking at him. “I know you’ve been trying to graduate.”

“How–”

“Go.” Steve pressures. “Don’t…” Why was this so hard? “Don’t fall behind. Especially in Kaminsky’s class. He’s a hardass if you don’t listen and study.”

Eddie was speechless. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe it was coming from the legend of the school himself (Guess there was a first time for everything, right?) “You sure? Doesn’t… Doesn’t the King of Hawkins High want to keep his good grades up?”

“I don’t care anymore.” Steve replies quickly, surprising the other teen again, but it was the truth. He could care less about all this right now. “Frankly, I didn’t want to even be here today, so…”

He didn’t say anymore, instead he tried holding whatever he could in his arms. Silently, and luckily he noticed it in the corner of his eye, he saw Munson holding up the bucket as an offer. He takes it and thanks him. He loads it up and makes his way to leave, but stops in the doorway.

“You know she liked your band.” Steve blurts out, getting another puzzled stare. “Uh, Fia, she– wait.” Fia. He almost forgot about his little nickname for her. It makes his stomach roll into knots as he tries again. “S-Sorry, Stephanie… really liked your band. She went to your show a few years back. Uh, the Lover’s Lake one. She is– w-was definitely a metal head.”

That seemed to surprise him a lot, because Eddie actually perks up with joy this time. There even was a smile tugging on his lips.

“She’s seen Corroded Coffin?” He asked, intrigued.

“Yeah. She really liked that opening song of yours.”

“‘To Love a Monster’?”

Steve nods, still remembering that day so clearly, still remembering the day he showed her the tickets. “She sang it for weeks afterwards. It was… funny. Cute– Awesome! It was awesome.”

Eddie gave him another look, one he couldn’t quite place. “That’s… amazing. I never knew that. Most of our fans are just people from our neighbourhoods.”

“Yeah.” He nods again, feeling his eye starting to sting. “Just thought I’d let you know that since you… offered to clean up her locker.” He swallows once more, and he tries to leave, but his conscience gets the best of him. It’s now or never, Harrington.

Looking like a kicked puppy, he faces him again. “I’m sorry.” Steve says, honestly. “I’m really, really sorry for everything I’ve done. I know I haven’t been the most pleasant with you and your– your bandmates, and I realize that I’m an asshole. A real fucking asshole, so– um…” He didn’t have to forgive him, he just wanted to get it out there. “I don’t need forgiveness, but at least accept it.”

Steve didn’t even wait for his answer, didn’t wait for a change on his face, and just left to finish what needed to be done.

Meanwhile, Eddie watches him leave just as his friends come running back, worriedness on their features.

“What did he do? Do we need to report him?” Gareth asked, scaredly.

“No, he…” Eddie still couldn’t believe the last few minutes even happened. “He apologized.” He looks over at them. “For being a dick.”

“What?”

“And then he said that Henderson girl went to our Lover’s Lake concert a few years back.” That response got his friends muttering amongst themselves.

“She did?”

“How would Harrington know that, though? All our tickets are limited.” Jeff asked.

“Unless…”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “They were friends.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin snuck his friends in from the back, immediately rambling last night’s situation. Of course he got looks of concern, and sentences of reassurance before he shook them all off and showed them. They sat around on his bedroom floor, fiddling with the walkie. It was faint, and it certainly wasn’t the song he heard last night, but he could tell by the mumbling words that it was in fact Will.

“We keep losing the signal, but you heard it, right?” Dustin said, looking between them.

“Yeah, I heard a baby.�� Lucas said, looking at his friend like he had three heads.

Dustin looks offended. “A baby?”

He rolls his eyes. “Dustin, you obviously tapped into a baby monitor. It’s probably one of your neighbours.”

“Uh, did that sound like a baby to you? That was Will!”

“Dustin…”

“Lucas, you don’t understand. He spoke last night. Words! He was singing that weird song he loves. And he even said my sister’s name.”

“Oh, well, if the of you heard your sister’s name, then I guess–”

“Are you sure you’re on the right channel?” Mike asked, genuinely invested in this.

A small smile blooms on Dustin’s face. Finally! At least someone believed him. “I don’t think it’s about that. I think, somehow, I was channeling him.”

“Like... like Professor X.”

He nods eagerly. “Yeah.”

“Are you actually believing this crap?” Lucas asked, staring at Mike like he was the weird one here.

“I don’t know, I mean… Do you remember when Will fell off his bike and broke his finger? He sounded a lot like that.”

“Oh, my god.” Lucas groans “Did you guys not see what I saw? They pulled Will’s body out of the water. They pulled Stephanie’s body out of the water too. They’re dead!”

“Well, maybe it’s their ghost. Maybe they’re haunting us.” Mike replies.

“It’s not their ghost.” Dustin said, shaking his head.

“So how do you know that?” Lucas pushes.

“I just do!”

“Then what was in that water?”

“I don’t know!” Dustin shoots to his feet. “All I know is Will is alive. Will is alive! If he’s alive, then there’s a good chance Stephanie is too. They’re out there somewhere. All we have to do is find them. And I know for fact…” He points at Eleven. “She’s the key.” He frowns, and looks her way (Guilt on his face). “I’m sorry for how I reacted last night. I swear I wasn’t mad at you, just the situation. But I know you’re really our only shot at finding them. Please forgive me.”

It took a second, but Eleven nods and smiles with understanding, lifting the weight of the boy’s shoulders.

“Well…” Mike begins, stopping him from handing over the walkie. “If you want her to somehow channel them, this isn’t gonna work. We need to get El to a stronger radio. Like, Mr. Clarke’s Heathkit ham shack.”

Dustin perks up. “That’ll totally work!”

“The Heathkit’s at school.” Lucas butts in. “There is no way we’re gonna get the weirdo in there without anyone noticing. I mean…” He gestures. “Look at her.”

But the Henderson brushed him off. “Don’t worry about that. I have an idea.” And then they busted into his sister’s room. “You might have to roll up the pant legs and/or sleeves, but Phanie’s stuff should be able to fit you just fine.”

“Uh, no offense to Stephanie–” Lucas begins, watching him rummage through his sister’s drawers. “But she’s not exactly the definition of girly-girl.”

“So? Look, we just want to get El inside the school. Mike, go to my mom’s room and grab some of her makeup. Lucas, head to the basement, I think we might have some wigs left over from a couple Halloweens. Go!”

They scatter, and Dustin continues grabbing what he can and lays it out on the bed. “Here.” He tells the girl. “Try a couple outfits on. See what fits.”

El takes a moment to look at them, mesmerized. “Pretty?” She asks, puzzled.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “We’re going to make you look pretty. Or at least prettier.”

She bats an eye. “Prettier?”

“Yeah. They say, ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’. Just because someone doesn’t think you’re pretty, doesn’t mean everyone else does.” It seemed to get her spirits up just as the other boys arrived with the stuff.

“Got the makeup.” Mike said, holding the pile in his arms.

“And I found a wig. Hopefully this works.” Lucas says, holding it up.

“Perfect.” Dustin gives the thumbs up. “Let’s do light on the makeup, and let’s put a braid in the wig.” After their tasks, the boys waited outside the door for her to change.

“Is that really the best wig you could have found?” Mike said, after a few moments of silence.

“What’s wrong with the wig?” Lucas asked, offended.

“Don’t you remember? That was the wig Steph used to dress up as a clown.”

“It’s not that orange, Mike.” Dustin said, Lucas agreeing.

“It’s orange.”

“Dude, come on–”

The door opens, and El steps out to reveal the outfit she picked. It happened to be a Mötley Crüe band tee that was tucked into some jeans, a red and black plaid button up as a jacket and some converse; Her wig was in a neat braid and was accompanied with a headband.

“Wow.” Mike said, staring.

“It’s like my sister has a prodigy.” Dustin said, grinning. “Grunge girl, 2.0.”

“How do you feel?”

Eleven looks herself up and down before smiling at herself. “Pretty.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It was pretty awkward to sit outside the cafeteria doors waiting to be called in and questioned by police. Nancy was the first to be called in, the first to have a parent actually show up to observe. It felt weird, and she could feel her mother’s eyes watching her closely.

“This argument you and Barbara had? What exactly was it about?” Powell asked, after reading over his notes.

Nancy gives a half-shrug. “It wasn’t really an argument. Barb just wanted to leave. I didn’t, so, I… I told her to just go home.”

“Then what?”

“Then I went upstairs to put on some dry clothes.”

“And the next day, you went back and…” Callahan reads over his notes too. “Saw a bear, you’re thinking?

“I don’t know what it was, but… I think…” She frowns. “I think maybe it took Barb. You need to check behind Steve’s house—

“We did. There’s nothing there. There’s no sign of a bear.”

“And no car.” Powell adds.

She blinks, confused. “What?”

“Look.” Callahan sighs. “We figured that Barbara came back last night and then she took off, went somewhere else. Has she ever talked to you about running off? Leaving town, maybe?”

“No. No, Barb wouldn’t do that, ever.” Nancy assures.

“She wasn’t maybe upset about the fact that you were spending time with this boy?” Powell glances down again. “Uh, Steve Harrington?

“What? No!”

“Maybe she was jealous because she saw you go up to Steve’s room?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Like what?”

“Steve and me, we’re... we’re just friends. We... we just talked.”

“Just talked?” Callahan gives her a look.

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. Just talked.” She wanted to say something else until the door opened, showing off to another officer.

“Hey–” He said, thumb jerking over his shoulder. “The Hagan and Perkins kids, they’re parents aren’t coming, they refuse for us to talk to their kids. Harrington’s parents said they’re too busy with work to come, but have given us permission to talk to their son.”

Powell sighs, looking over his partner who shrugged. “Alright. Send them home. Except Harrington, have him come in. You–” He looks at Nancy. “You’re dismissed.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“So, Gary, tell me about these troopers that brought in the kids.” Hopper asked, after settling Hawkins local coroner down. He told him to come down to the station, offering him a cup of joe as he tries to get a few things straightened out. He still finds this whole… State taking over everything is a bit odd.

“It was about six of ’em, I’d say.” Gary replies, with a nod.

“They’re all Staties?”

“Yes, sir. Never seen that many troopers come with two bodies before.”

“They told you that they were gonna take care of the autopsy, huh?”

“Yeah. Claimed jurisdiction. Kicked me out. Well, it all seemed a bit over the top to me, considering…” He looked a bit nervous about this.

“Considering what?” Hopper asked, suspicious.

“Considering this was Will Byers and Stephanie Henderson and not John F. Kennedy.”

So this wasn’t just weird to me? Great. His eyes catch something on the tv, making him stand up. “Thanks for stopping by, Gary.”

“Sure thing.”

Hopper tunes everything else out as he turns up the volume, listening as a state trooper talks to the reporter about the incident.

< -let the people know that, uh, the troopers are on duty and you should be safe, because we think this is just an isolated incident. >

< State trooper David O’Bannon, thank you so much for your help. >

< Thank you, sir. >

O’Bannon. Gary. Staties. Hawkins Lab. Hopper’s frown deepens. What does this all mean?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And that’s when Jim came up with another question that he needed to answer. Something that’s been nagging him since yesterday. So that’s how he found himself at Hawkins High School. He had to swerve around the teens leaving the gymnasium from Stephanie’s assembly, and just hoped that his guys were still in the cafeteria questioning some suspects. Well… hopefully the one he really wanted to talk to was still there.

“Oh, hey Chief.” Callahan calls out, just as Hopper bursts through the doors.

Hopper’s gaze trails to the teen in questioning – and thank god it was the person he was looking for. With a serious look he storms over, completely ignoring everything and everyone else.

“We just got done with–”

“I need you to give me the room for a second.” Hopper blurts out, the two officers staring. “Now.” Callahan and Powell waste no time to get up and leave, the whole place growing silent immediately.

Steve glances between the door and the police Chief, confused. “Is there a problem?”

Without saying anything, Hopper reaches over and lifts Steve’s left arm sleeve, seeing the scar again. Blinking, and kicking his senses into high gear, the teenager pulls his arm away – the officer looking like he was scared.

“Dude, what the fu–”

“How long ago was that?” Hopper asks, practically fidgeting in his seat.

“I’m sorry?”

“How long ago did you get the scar?”

“Um, I…” Steve pauses to think. When did he get it? “Three… three years ago? Maybe longer?”

“And you said both your injuries were deep? Especially Stephanie’s?”

“Yeah.” He nods, suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

Hopper suddenly is overcome with worriedness, causing him to look around and lowers his voice. “Listen to what I’m about to say, ‘cause I’m only going to say it once. Understood?” He waits for the teenager to nod again before going. “Good.”

He takes a deep breath. “Look, her mother’s a mess, hysterical. And her brother is just… angry. I want to ask them stuff, but I think it’ll be an emotionally… fusing answer. They’re not going to be able to give me something basic. So what I’m trying to say is, I don’t care what happened between the two of you, but be honest. How well did you know this girl?”

And Steve, of course, doesn’t lie (he too wants to know what the hell’s going on). “Pretty well, I like to think. I mean we were tied at the hip since the age of five. We never really went anywhere without each other.” He frowns, scared. “You’re kind of making me nervous. What’s going on?”

Hopper looks around again, getting closer. “Just answer my questions. How likely was it for Stephanie to pick up Will that night when she saw him stranded?”

“Highly.” Steve says, truthfully. “She loves her brother’s friends.”

“How likely was it for her to protect him from whatever was chasing them?”

“Highly. That’s the kind of person she is. Putting herself before others.”

With each answer, Hopper’s heart picks up. “How likely was it for her to take a weapon if she felt like she was in danger?”

“She’s not exactly a violent person, but… if she was in danger, she’s smart enough to arm herself.”

“How much is she familiar with the woods around here?”

“Only certain areas she really knows like the back of her hand.”

“What about the Quarry?”

“The Quarry?” Steve said, fond memories coming in. “That used to be our spot when we were kids. We know the ends and out of it pretty well.”

Now Hopper feels destroyed. He was half expecting this answer but still. It wasn’t easy to accept. “So… hypothetically speaking, if she was being chased in the direction of the Quarry, how likely would she have fallen in?”

Steve gets taken aback, his heart sinking. “Unlikely. She always knew where she was going.” He was oblivious to the way the Chief suddenly looked. “So it wasn’t the news making a theory? Stephanie and Will actually fell into the Quarry?”

“Fuck.” Hopper says, standing up and starts leaving.

Steve gets up as well, following. “I still don’t understand what’s–”

“Listen to me–” He stops the teen in his place, pointing, and spitting his next sentence out like venom. “This conversation never happened. Understood?”

Steve just nods, scared to talk back as the Police Chief finally left with the answer he was worried about – while Harrington was also left with a question that was now answered.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Okay, remember, if anyone sees us, look sad.” Mike says, as they entered the school. Right on cue, someone came on the PA, which is the perfect cover up for them.

// Attention students, there will be an assembly to honor Will Byers in the gymnasium now. Do not go to fourth period. //

“It’s locked.”

“What?” Lucas said, brushing by Mike to try the door.

“Hey, do you think you can open it? With your powers?” Dustin asked, hopefully. But before anything could be resolved, their teacher just so happened to appear around the corner.

“Boys?” Mr. Clarke said, startling them. “Assembly’s about to start.”

“We know. We’re just, you know…” Mike trails over, pretending to be sad.

“Upset.” Lucas finishes.

“Y-Yeah, d-definitely upset.” Dustin adds.

“We need some alone time.”

“To cry.”

“Yeah, listen… I get it. I do. I know how hard this is, but let’s just be there for Will, huh? And then…” Mr. Clarke fishes his keys out of his pocket, tossing them over. “The Heathkit is all yours for the rest of the day. What do you say?” The boys smiled and nodded eagerly. “I don’t believe we’ve met. What’s your name?”

El’s eyes widened, and stutters, “Eleven–”

“Eleanor!” Mike corrects. “She’s my, uh–”

“Cousin.” Lucas says.

“Second cousin.” Dustin blurts out.

“She’s here for Will and Stephanie’s funeral.” Mike finishes.

Mr. Clarke frowns, bittersweetly. “Ah, well, welcome to Hawkins Middle, Eleanor. I wish you were here under better circumstances.”

“Thank you.” She says.

“Uh, where are you from exactly?”

“Bad place–”

“Sweden!” Dustin shouts.

“I have a lot of Swedish family.” Mike explains.

“She hates it there.”

“Cold!” Lucas adds, smiling nervously.

“Subzero.”

Mr. Clarke nods, deciding to just go along with this. “Shall we?”

“Yep!” They said, running along.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You lied to the police!” Karen snapped at her daughter as they entered the house.

“I didn’t lie!” Nancy shouted back, about to head for her room.

“How naive do you think I am!? You and Steve were just talking?”

The teenager gritted her teeth, stopping on the stairs. “We did just talk! Okay? I found out Steve used to know Dustin’s sister, and we talked about it! Is that what you want to know? Huh? It doesn’t matter!”

“It does matter!” Her mother shouts back.

“No!” Nancy scoffs. “It is all bullshit! It has nothing to do with Barb and she’s missing. And something terrible happened to her. I know it. I know it! And no one is listening to me!” She storms off towards her room, her mother shouting her name repeatedly. “Just leave me alone!”

And then her door slams shut.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Listening to the principal speak, the boys realized he probably was the only one who actually cares. The rest of the school, the students, looked like they were completely lost and not interested in listening to this.

“Look at these fakers.” Mike mutters, irritated.

“They probably didn’t even know his name till today.” Lucas scoffed.

The boys continued to survey the area, they heard the two school bullies laughing. Troy and James were laughing and mocking what the principal was saying about their friend Will, completely berating him. The Boys glared, all while Eleven put two and two together.

“Mouth breather.” She says, remembering what Mike told her who was responsible for the gash on his chin.

He was actually surprised she remembered, and continued to try to ignore their laughing. But when assembly finally ended, Mike couldn’t hold back his anger any more.

“Hey! Hey! Hey, Troy! You... you think this is funny?”

Troy stopped and scoffed. “What’d you say, Wheeler?”

“I-I saw you guys laughing over there.” Mike said, oblivious to the audience he was getting. “And I think that’s a real messed up thing to do.”

“Didn’t you listen to the counselor, Wheeler?” James said, smiling. “Grief shows itself in funny ways.”

Mike balled his hands into fists, and ready to snap; Just as Dustin steps up to the plate.

“What did I say yesterday? You keep my sister’s and Will’s name out of your mouths.” He replies.

“So what, Henderson?” Troy shrugged. “Besides, what’s there to be sad about, anyway? Will’s in fairyland now, right? Flying around with all the other little fairies. All happy and gay– and your sister… well… I didn’t take her to be a pedo for your little friend.”

Dustin’s face morphed into one of a killer. “You–”

“Asshole!” Mike shouted, and shoved their bully to the floor. Immediately, their audiences gasp in shock.

Troy groaned, and stood up, charging up his fist. “You’re dead, Wheeler! Dead!”

But before he could release it, his whole body froze. Everyone stared in confusion, even Troy didn’t know what was going on. Then…

A student started laughing.

“Dude, Troy peed himself.”

And the giggles broke out because everyone’s eyes were on his pants. Sure enough, there was a stain appearing and running down his pant leg.

“Holy shit!” Dustin said, his gaze looking back to El. She flashes the boys a cocky look before wiping the blood from her nose.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” The principal shouted as he entered the room.

“Shit! Let’s go!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan was surprised to see her at the Funeral home, interrupting his shopping (Although, seeing all these coffins and trying to find one for his little brother, maybe it was best to take a break). To his disbelief, she asked him to see his collection of photos from Steve’s backyard.

Of course, now he was nervous. Did she change her mind about protecting him the other day? Was she going to rat him out to the police after all? But instead, she carefully looked through them, until she found one he took of Barb.

“That’s it.” Nancy said, putting on the weird distorted blur behind her friend. “W-What is that?”

He takes it from her hands, studying it hard. “It looks like it could be some kind of perspective distortion, but I wasn’t using the wide angle.” He frowns, uncertain. “I don’t know. It’s weird.

“And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone else out there?”

“No. And she was there one second and then, um… gone. I figured she bolted.”

She sighs. “The cops think that she ran away. But they don’t know Barb. And I went back to Steve’s… and I thought I… saw something. Some… weird man or… I don’t know what it was.” She glances over at him, realizing what she was doing. “Oh, god. I’m sorry. I... I shouldn’t have come here today. I’m…” She grabs her purse and stands up. “I’m so sorry.”

Jonathan right there and then decided to bite the bullet. His mind wandered back to when the police came over to tell him and his mother what happened to Will. “What’d he look like?

She stops a few steps away, turning around. “What?”

“This man you saw in the woods. What’d he look like?”

“I don’t know.” She knows she is going to sound crazy when she tells him this. “It was almost like he… he didn’t have–”

“Didn’t have a face?”

Nancy stares at him, a bit freaked out. “How did you know that?”

Jonathan suddenly shakes his head, running a hand through his locks. “Shit…”

“What?”

“Shit.” He stands up, guilt on his face. “I think I fucked up.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

None of this made sense.

Steve had parked his car off the road and had walked a path he knew like the back of his hand. He found himself soon standing above the Quarry, a view of where the crime scene had happened. It was still tapped off and there were two cop cars still sitting there, observing. He frowns, and his brain starts going into overdrive.

None of this made sense.

She crashes her car not far from the boy’s house, they both run and somehow end up with a shotgun. But the police are saying they ended up in the Quarry, probably being chased but…

It doesn’t make any sense. The Byers house does face the road that takes you to the Quarry, but there’s no logical way that they would follow the road like that. If the theory was true, and they did run back to the house, they would more likely would have run through the front door, and out the back if someone was chasing them; Which means–

They would have ended up going into the woods, not the direction of the Quarry. And you wouldn’t make that harsh right turn unless the chaser was making you do that. No…

If someone was chasing you, the human reaction is to keep running straight until you find somewhere or someone safe.

And if they did get pulled in the direction, there’s no way they would have just fallen in. Steph knows that place too well, and even though they were driven to the edge, wouldn’t the smart thing to do is use the shotgun on your chaser?

His mind wanders back to the conversation with the police chief. He seemed so spooked after he told him the truth. And what was the worried reaction after looking at his scar again? Unless…

Did… Steve nearly choked on the thought. Did her body not have the scar?

But if it didn’t have the scar then…

He gasps.

“Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

The police chief reverted back to the same look he was giving Joyce earlier, slight pity but also disbelief. “For Christ’s Sake. Not you too.”

Not you too? What does that even mean? Did Stephanie’s mother have doubts too? Did Will’s mother have doubts? Was he really doubting the whole situation from the beginning as well?

But his mind kept going back to Hopper and him just an hour ago.

“I still don’t understand what’s–”

“Listen to me–” He stops the teen in his place, pointing, and spitting his next sentence out like venom. “This conversation never happened. Understood?”

Oh, god.

Steve couldn’t even believe what he was considering doing next.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper sat in street clothes at a bar, a shit eating grin on his face, a cigarette in hand, and he was keeping a close eye on the man sitting next to him who was currently watching a football game on the tv. He chuckles, getting the bartender’s attention.

“Another, please. And another for my, uh, friend here.”

“Oh, thanks, man. Appreciate it.” The guy, a Statie, named David said.

“Yeah, that’s all right. I’m, uh... I’m celebrating. My daughter, she won the spelling bee today.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Hopper said, chuckling. “‘Odontalgia’. That was the word. You know what it means?” He gets a ‘no’ for an answer. “It’s a fancy name for a toothache.” His grin grows. “Yeah, she’s smart. She’s real smart. Don’t know where she gets it from. I’ve been tryin’ to figure that out for years.”

“Your daughter, she got a name?”

Hopper’s brain short circuited for a second. “What?”

“Your daughter? What’s her name?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sarah. Her name’s Sarah.”

David grabs his bottle and holds it up. “To Sarah.” He said, and they clink their glasses. The police chief finally had the hook in place.

Hopper takes a sip, and turns up his acting skills. “I recognize you. Are you famous or somethin’?”

“Uh, you might have seen me on TV, I, uh... I found those kids.”

Gotcha, asshole. Hopper nods. “So, you on that case or what?”

“I just saw the kids on patrol, you know? Dumb luck.”

“So that Quarry, that’s, uh… that’s state-run, where they found those kids, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Hopper starts laughing quietly. “Yeah, well, that’s funny. ’Cause, you know, I know for a fact that it’s run by the Sattler Company. Frank Sattler? Decent guy, still got a couple operational quarries up in Roane.

David starts looking preoccupied. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s right.” He starts glaring. “So why are you lying to me, man?”

“What’s your problem, bud?” David snaps.

“I don’t have a problem. I’m just a concerned citizen.”

“Yeah? Well, stick your nose someplace else. Those kids are dead. End of story.” He stands up and throws some money on the counter. “Thanks for ruining the game, dick.”

Hopper shakes his head, almost pitying the guy. If only he had just been honest and open with him, he wouldn’t have to get his ass beaten.

Kind of like right now.

He had dragged the man behind the building, striking him multiple times to bruise his cheeks, and open wounds under his eyes and nose.

“Okay…” Hopper pins him to the wall. “Let’s try this one more time.” He grabs the man by the chin, squeezing. “Who told you to be out there? What were you doing out there?” He watched for an answer, and when he wasn’t getting any, he dialed back his fist.

“I don’t know!” David shouts. “I don’t know. They… they just told me to call it in and not let anybody get too close.

“Get close to what?!”

“The bodies.”

The bodies? Why? Hopper huffs and squeezes tighter. “Who do you work for? The NSA? Hawkins Lab?” He catches David’s gaze falling behind him and looks, spotting a black car in the distance. “Who is that?”

“You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Who is that? Hey! Hey!” Hopper takes off, pulling out his gun. But to no avail, the car was already off. And so was the Statie in question. He looked around, gripping his hair. “Fuck…”

What the fuck is going on?!

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will didn’t know what to do. Stephanie had passed out, and is still passed out after all this time. He had a blanket draped over her, and propped her head up against her backpack. He didn’t know if she was coming down with something either or not because the temperature was making his hands feel numb even with the gloves on.

What can he do? The only thought that crossed his mind was going back to his house and trying to contact his mother. But the problem with that is, is he’ll have to leave Steph behind. There’s no way he can carry her back, no way he can drag her back either without collapsing himself, and then what? The monster comes and gets them while they’re unconscious?

Heck, no!

But… that means the first option is the only logical way to do this.

Will decides to lighten his load, only taking the shotgun with him and scrambles to find something to write on. He still had his school notebook in his bag and wrote a quick message on one of the pages.

WENT TO GET HELP.

Then he placed it right next to her head. He hopes she doesn’t freak out too badly before and after reading the note, and hopes when they do reconnect she won’t scold him (She’ll probably will, but he can have hopes).

He looks down at her one more time before retracing his steps back home.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Come on.” Mike ushered them inside the room, closing it shut and showing El where to sit by the radio.

“Now what?” Dustin asked, almost nervously.

“She’ll find them. Right, El?”

El nods and closes her eyes as Mike starts turning the radio on. Almost immediately she locked onto something, a muffled voice coming through. The boys, minus Lucas, perked up at this with joy.

“She’s doing it.” Dustin said, smiling.

“She’s finding them!” Mike says, nearly jumping with joy.

“This is crazy.”

“Calm down. She just closed her eyes.” Lucas said, and right on cue, almost a way of telling him not to underestimate her, the light above them shattered and went out.

The boys gasped and huddled closer. Then that’s when they heard something else come through other than static. There was the sound of something banging. Banging on what? They couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“What is that?” Dustin asked, confused, but they continued to listen for anything else.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“COME ON! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Joyce was blasting her youngest favorite song, hoping to get some communication again. She practically begged whatever higher force there was to get her to talk to her son again.

“COME ON! WILL, STEPHANIE! I NEED ONE OF YOU–”

Then the banging came.

She immediately stops the music, listening. She slowly walks over to the wall where she saw the faceless thing last night, and puts her ear to it.

|| Mom? ||

She gasps, hands pressing against the wall like she could grab him. “Will?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| M-Mom? ||

The boys took a step back in shock.

They heard him.

They actually heard him.

“No freaking way!” Lucas said, and everyone began shouting his name.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| Mom... ||

“Will!” Joyce yells, her heart hurting at the sound of her baby boy crying.

|| Please… ||

“Will! Will!” She starts banging on the wall, and clawing at the wall paper.

|| Mom!!!! ||

“Will! I’m here! I’m here!” She manages to snag the corner of the paper and begins peeling it off. “Oh, God…”

|| Mom!!!! ||

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Will!” Mike shouts.

“Will, it’s us! Are you there?” Lucas says, getting closer to the radio.

“Can you hear us? We’re here!” Dustin asks, getting close too. They can hear him, even if it’s a bit distorted, so why can’t he hear them? “Will? Hello?! Will!”

|| H-Hel-lo? M-Mom? ||

“Why can’t he hear us?” Lucas asked, worriedly.

“I don’t know!” Mike yells, scared. “Will!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Baby…” Joyce cries as the wallpaper came down, and revealed a weird color bubble on her wall. She wasn’t even going to question it when she finally saw movement behind it.

|| Mom?! ||

“Oh, God. Will!” She could cry. “Oh, thank God. Baby… Will…”

|| Mom… ||

She could hear something growling from the other side, and could barely make out her son’s scared face.

|| Mom, it’s coming! ||

“Tell me where you are!” Joyce said, banging on the bubble. “How do I get to you?!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The boys stared, completely afraid for their friend because he sounded like he was going to break at any moment. And that weird growling wasn’t helping the situation either. Where the heck was he?

|| I-It’s like ho-home, but it’s s-so dark… It’s so da-rk and empty. An–d-d it’s cold! A-And Step-hanie’s passed out! ||

Mike gasps and looks at Dustin. “She is with him.”

“Jesus…” The Henderson said, covering his mouth with his hand.

|| I do-n’t kn-know what t-to do! Mo-m? M-m-mom! ||

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Listen to me!” Joyce said, with all the might of her voice. “I swear I’m gonna get to you, okay? But right now, I need you to hide. I need you to get Stephanie and hide!”

|| Mom, please! ||

“No, no, listen! Listen, I…” Her heart skips a beat when the growling gets louder. “I will find you both, but you have to run now! Run! Run!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Then the radio bursts up into flames, immediately setting off the fire alarms. Dustin kicked himself in high gear, running over to the extinguisher and pulling the pin.

“El, are you okay?” Mike asked, after the fire was put out. But the young girl stared at him, and you can clearly tell she wasn’t here. “Can you move?”

“Shit! Blood, Mike!” Lucas points out, as the red liquid gushes out of her nose immensely.

“Jeez! Help her up!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“And you’re…” Nancy questions as he watches him fiddle around with the machine in the room engulfed in red light.

“Brightening. Enlarging.” He explains.

“Did your mom say anything else? Like, um, where it might have gone to, or…”

“No, just that it came out of the wall.” Jonathan sighs as he finishes with the machine before carefully placing the photo into the water.

“How long does this take?”

“Not long.”

She nods, fiddling with her hand. “Have you been… doing this a while?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Photography?” She clarifies, and he shrugs.

“Yeah.” He gives her a nervous look. “I guess I’d rather observe people than, you know… Talk to them. I know. It’s weird.”

“No!” She shakes her head.

“No, it is.” He chuckles, and grins. “It’s just, sometimes… people don’t really say what they’re really thinking. But you capture the right moment… it says more.”

“What was I saying?” Nancy asked, a smile creeping up in her face.

“What?”

“When you took my picture.”

He frowns. “I shouldn’t have taken that.” He looks away. “I’m, uh… I’m sorry. It’s just–”

“That’s it.” She said, getting his attention. “That’s what I saw.”

Jonathan gasps quietly at the sight of it, a disgusting, tall figure that didn’t have a face. “My mom… I thought she was crazy ’cause she said… that’s not Will’s body. That he’s alive.”

“And if he’s alive–”

“Then Barbara.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve couldn’t believe he even had this thought, but he finds himself pulling into the parking lot of the Coroner’s office. He sat there with the engine off, rethinking everything.

“Oh my god…” His forehead touched the steering wheel. “What am I doing?” But he gets out anyway, heading inside and turning on his charm to hide his nerves. “Hello, Ma’am!”

Patty pulls the phone away from her ear. “Hey, uh, can I help you?”

“Oh, uh, my brother, I think he left something behind. I‘m sure it’s still on the seat. If you don’t mind me looking, that is.”

“Oh, well…”

“Please?” He begs, and shows her the doe eyes. Well, they worked because she told him he can go ahead. “Thank you. I’ll just be a minute.”

And now it was now or never.

Steve strolls through the hallway, spotting, to his surprise, a cop sitting on a chair by the door he needed to get in (Guess he’ll question this situation later). “Hey, I love that book.” He says, the cop springing to his feet “It’s a nasty mutt.”

“Hey, you can’t be back here.”

“Yeah, I know, but I just got off the line with uh… you know.”

“Know what?”

“You…” Smacks lips. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

And that’s when Steve decks him the side of the head, before sending another punch to the jaw that renders him unconscious. He still can’t believe what he’s doing, even after snatching the keys from the guy’s belt. He looks around worriedly as he unlocks the door to head inside. His nerves were being shot through the roof as he arrived at the freezers, and with a shaky hand he started opening the doors up, reading the name tags that were tied on the deceased’s toes.

When he found Stephanie’s he nearly vomited. And when he finally pulled back the sheet he nearly fainted.

Ever since their friendship ended the only time he’s only ever seen her was when they would pass by each other in school, and that wasn’t very often. But this…

This is different. This is sick. This is violating.

It hurt to see how pale she was, those bright blue eyes of her closed, her brown locks brushed back from her face.

He swallows and looks away. What the fuck am I doing?

He takes a deep breath, and pulls the sheet back more, stopping before it shows off her chest. He still had the courtesy to not see her naked, not like this anyhow. It wouldn’t be right. But when he finally took the rest of her in, his heart got stuck in his throat.

The scar… on her shoulder was…

Non-existent.

That doesn’t… what? Steve knows this isn’t right. He remembers the incident so clearly, he remembers the scar they both promise to hide from their families. So if he had his still, then where was hers? Is this what was spooking the police chief?

Now it made sense why Hopper was asking those questions to him. He must have seen Stephanie’s body without the scar and wanted to ask how long ago it was.

Now it all made sense.

Steve, without even realizing, had reached down to touch the spot where the scar should be. His brown orbs widened at the touch. For being a deceased body it was–

Completely dry.

Now, he might not be the most book smart person despite keeping his grades up for his parents sake, but even he remembers his science teacher explaining the stages of a dead body. Something about the body puffing up and releasing fluids. So why is it dry? And secondly, if Steph’s mother showed up for the autopsy, then where’s the incision marks?

“Do…” What is it even saying? “Do they look real?”

Steve shuts his eyes again, another shaky breath as he takes out his knife from his back pocket, flicking it open. He has to know, he has to know if his doubts are real. He starts by putting the tip on her shoulder, before stopping.

But what if he’s wrong? What if this is really her?

He groaned, every kind of emotion was coming through. What if I’m wrong and I just butchered my first friend?

He sighs. Well…

He’s not going to know until he tries.

“Fuck.” He whispers, before digging the tip into her shoulder. Cringing at the sound of the skin breaking. He continues until he gets to the end of the collarbone, and puts the knife aside.

It was the moment of truth as he slowly digs his hand into the cut, half expecting for his hand to touch bone or get drenched in a vein but…

Steve might as well be as pale as this corpse as soon as touched something that shouldn’t be in there. Scaredly, he pulled the substance out.

It was cotton. Stuffing that was used in pillows or children’s toys.

He didn’t know whether to be happy he was right, or upset that he was. He still almost couldn’t believe it.

“What the fuck?” He manages to say before he hears the door behind him open wider. Out of instinct, he grabs his knife and spins around, expecting the receptionist or even that cop he knocked out to be there, but not him.

Jim Hopper was staring back at him, out of uniform and looking surprised to see him here too (That’s probably why his gun was out). Both of them didn’t say anything, and the adult’s eyes shifted to the table behind him. Jim hustles over, Steve sidestepping quickly – I mean he’s caught red handed anyway.

And that’s when Jim saw what Steve saw.

That’s when they both realized…

Something’s going on.

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