#like yeah you wash em and stuff before but still

[jusiri]

Genuinely, how the fuck are you supposed to try on underwear?

[ddejavvu]

Hi, I love your work so so much, but I've been too afraid to like to say it... you are such a phenomenal writer! ❤️❤️

I had a thought/request for cm? I think it'd be so cute/soft if like... the reader took meds or something, and while they are on a very important case it comes time to take their meds but they're very invested in working stuff out or whatever... and then a few of the team members phones go off and on of them is like, welp it's time to take your meds, and you're just like 🫠 you have an alarm to make sure I take it on time. I need some team fluff!

There's no room for recreation in your schedule. You personally think that being flown to the sunny beaches of florida and being confined to a stuffy police precinct is evil, but so are serial killers, you suppose.

Your head is starting to ache, and by the deep sigh that JJ lets out, hers is, too. The last thing on your mind are the little pills in your go bag, but your eyes are starting to droop from where they're scanning over a plotted map. Lines are starting to blur together, and you're thankful for the intrusion of an alarm.

Wait, two alarms.

Three, you note, frowning as you glance at the clock: 8:00.

Hotch's phone is one that buzzes as its pressed to his cheek, and he interrupts his running dialogue to scan the room for you.

"-understood. We'll send a team out, they should be there in 20. Y/L/N," He calls, and you stiffen slightly, ready for orders, "Take your medicine."

Those weren't the orders you'd been expecting. Your brow dips, creased in a frown as Hotch goes back to his conversation.

You glance questioningly at Reid, but all the doctor does is hold up his own phone.

"Your medicine," He prompts, showing the alarm ringing on his screen, "You're supposed to take it at 8:00."

"Here," JJ sticks a hand over your shoulder, pill bottle in hand, "Do you have water?"

Aaron's still engaged in conversation over the phone, but apparently parenting has given him good multitasking skills, because he hears JJ's question and passes his own water bottle to you, the plastic looking comically small in his large hands.

"Thank you," You mumble, "Uh- you set alarms on your phones... for me?"

"You don't do it for yourself," Derek teases, pinching at your side as you struggle to juggle both the pill bottle and the water. When you get the cap off of the medicine bottle Morgan takes it from you, shaking out the dosage you need and screwing the cap back on.

"I take them," You defend yourself, taking a swig of water and washing the medicine down, "I was just preoccupied tonight."

"And that's why we have the alarms," Rossi reasons, "Penelope had to help Reid and I with ours, she's the one that found your medical records and told us what time you needed to take them."

"That snoop," You scoff, "Someone has to take those computers away from her."

"I've tried," Aaron reasons, finally off his phone call, "She always outsmarts me. You took the meds?"

"Yeah," You nod, "Uh, thanks, guys."

"Anytime," Derek goads, ruffling your hair despite your protests to fight him off, "Someone let Garcia know you took 'em, or she'll call you herself."

Before Prentiss can pick her phone up off of the table, yours rings. There's a round of snickers throughout the room, and you raise it to your ear with a fondly exasperated sigh, "Yes, Penelope, I took my meds."

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Okay, so I’m weirdly into the idea of being someone’s estranged wife???

Imagine being Patrick’s estranged wife?? Like maybe he married you bc he couldn’t have Tashi and then just…never signed the divorce papers? And now he’s knocking on your door bc there’s a challenger he’s gonna play in buttttt his bank account’s a little low so could he pretty please crash with you? He’ll sleep on his couch and be on his best behavior, he swears

Queue him crawling into bed with you at 2 am bc it’s cold in the living room and you’re soft and pretty and whoops, he’s hard

Ooo love this

Warnings: Fingering, Patrick Being Patrick, bitter and estranged ex-wife Reader

"You have any chicken nuggets?"

"What are you, five?"

"Adults can enjoy chicken nuggets."

They certainly could, but you didn't grace that reply with a response, just watched with tepid interest as he rifled through the contents of your fridge.

A single phrase kept resounding in your mind:

I should've left him on the doorstep.

And maybe you should have. It wouldn't be the first time that you'd given Patrick the cold shoulder, and it wouldn't be the first time that he just parked in your driveway and slept in his car. But you just couldn't stand the sight of him out in the cold, pouting and gnawing on his lower lip in the fish-eye lens of your peephole.

"Why don't we order a pizza?" He tacked on.

We. It was always 'we' with him, but never in the action, or the cost—that was a 'you' action, not a 'we' more often than not.

"Who's paying for it?" You asked. Patrick turned to you with a dopey, guilty little smile affixed to his lips as he cocked his hip.

"Well until I sign the papers, the two shall be as one, right?"

"Yeah—Why haven't you signed, by the way?"

"Your guy's never been able to serve 'em." He turned back to the fridge, ducking his head as he looked around. "You got any beer?"

You rolled your eyes. "Third shelf, at the back."

"Bingo. Want one?"

"Not right now. But thanks for offering me something that I bought and paid for. Really appreciate it."

Patrick huffed a soft laugh as he turned toward you again, opening the beer against the edge of the counter.

"Mine mine mine," He teased. "What is it with you and what's yours, huh?"

"Just stating facts, Zweig."

"So self-righteous, Mrs. Zweig." He used your married name with a vinegary smile before taking a deep swig from his bottle, pointedly ignoring the way that you bristled. "So. Pizza?"

--

Just the couch.

Patrick had pleaded it between bites of pizza, scrubbing the back of his hand across his mouth to clear the crumbs and oil left behind. He'd framed it as a reasonable enough request, like it was the easiest thing in the world to let your estranged husband back into your home.

You won't even know I'm there.

As if you hadn't been fighting to find a harmony within yourself for the last year, trying to serve him papers for the last six months, to get your divorce to take, to rid yourself of his last name.

Watching him sort through the garbage bags of clothing that you'd packed up for him to come and take between tours had been a little pitiful, but he'd unearthed what he'd needed to sleep in.

"Still have a toothbrush for me?" He asked.

"No."

"Face wash?"

"Don't you just use soap?"

"Yeah, but you put me on that, uh—That regimen, that routine."

"You never followed it."

"So you threw the stuff out?"

"I wasn't using it, so. Yeah."

"Huh." Patrick straightened, PJs in hand. You couldn't help but watch him strip off as he passed you, eyeing the ripple of his back muscles as he tossed his shirt in the direction of his bag.

"I'm showering," He called over his shoulder, "If you'd like to join me."

"I'd rather chew glass, but thanks."

--

He was sleeping. He had to be, right? It didn't matter if he was or wasn't. It didn't matter that Patrick Zweig was asleep on your couch, just a floor away. It didn't matter that you were worked up, at the midpoint between pissed off and turned on.

How did he always manage to do that to you?

You should've been able to clock early on that it was trouble. None of your friends or family thought it would work out, and you'd been chagrined when they'd been right. For as much as you had once loved him, for as certain as you and Patrick had been sure you would fit, that you would fix whatever needed fixing, no matter what fate had in store for you, you just...Couldn't.

It didn't help that he had been chasing glory on the court, or that you had spent your relationship trying to fill the shoes of a woman that you could never be. It didn't help that the two of you were just fundamentally different, in ways that you either of you were unwilling to compromise. When he'd left, it hadn't been a surprise, but it had been so goddamn hard to serve him papers. But you'd had such trouble trying to pin him down during your relationship, why should the way you broke be any different?

But when you'd been in bed together—Hell, you'd been even more certain that it could work. You and Patrick just fit. Things had been so right with so little conversation or hesitation. Your needs had fueled one another's, and you'd been able to lose yourself in him. It should have been enough.

But it wasn't then, and it wasn't now.

He was asleep. He had a match the next morning, and he needed his rest. You could do the same—You should do the same. You needed to be staring at the ceiling right now like you need a goddamn hole in the head. You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes and doing your best to focus on your breathing. In for five... Hold...Out...For...Five...In for...One...Two...Three...Four...

Your eyes opened, your breath catching as you heard the door open. You held completely still as you heard the door close again, chased by the soft pad of feet along your floor before the mattress dipped beside you. The covers shifted, lifting and falling as he laid down.

"Are you asleep?" He murmured. It was another moment before his palm skimmed across your belly, his rough cheek nuzzling against the curve of your shoulder. Your breath left you in a soft sigh, your muscles untensing bit by bit.

"I know you haven't been here in a while," You muttered, "But this is not the couch."

He huffed a soft laugh. "I know," He snuggled closer, and it was just a moment before you felt the press of his cock against your hip. You drew in a shaky breath, hands lowering to his arm.

"Patrick," You mumbled. "You should be asleep."

"I can't sleep." His teeth scraped along your jaw as his fingers snaked under the hem of your nightshirt.

"Indigestion?" You squeaked. "Shouldn't've had that third slice of pizza. I told you not to."

Your eyes squeezed shut as he rolled his hips against you.

"This feel like pizza to you?"

"Well—"

"Baby," He pleaded. "You gonna tell me you didn't miss me?"

It took you a moment, and you couldn't help your slight squirming.

"Not even a little."

He laughed again, and you knew that you hadn't been able to sneak a thing by him.

"You don't have to lie. I saw you watching me." He tipped his chin up, sucking a tender kiss to your neck. And you had, but—

"I wasn't."

Patrick tutted disapprovingly. You shuddered, arching up into his touch as his thumb skimmed across your hardening nipple.

"You're a shitty liar, you know that?"

"You're an asshole," You hissed as Patrick lifted his head.

"You like it."

You couldn't get a word out to argue as Patrick's tongue swept between your lips. You whimpered in spite of yourself, sinking back against your pillows and raising your hand to fist in his hair. He was over you in a moment, body shoving your thighs wide as his hands rucked up the bottom of your sleep shirt. You drew in a sharp breath as his head dipped to catch one of your nipples between his lips. You tightened your grip on his, shivering as he teased it with his tongue.

Patrick's hips ground against yours, rolling against where you're growing slick in your sleep shorts.

"How long's it been?" He murmured, "Huh? Since me?"

And it was too embarrassing to say—too embarrassing to admit that you hadn't slept with anyone since Patrick left.

"Shut up," You hissed, "Just—Please, shut up."

His hand snuck beneath the hem of your shorts, swiping gently across your tender clit, and he grinned as your hips hitched up into his deft touch.

"S'okay," He cooed as he eased a couple of fingers into your tight, aching cunt. "I missed you, too."

--

"You gonna come watch me play?"

As with the rest of the last day or so, your answer should be no. You didn't turn to look at Patrick as you rummaged through your dresser for something to wear.

"I've seen you play, Patrick."

"Not lately." He tried again: "It's a challenger."

You hummed, giving a noncommittal shrug as you pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

"...Well can I stay here tonight?"

"If you win, sure."

"How will you know I win if you don't come see me?"

You rolled your eyes, hip-checking your drawer shut before pulling up your pants and tugging in your top.

"Fine. Just tonight. You'll have to find somewhere tomorrow night."

"I'll have the prize money by then, I'll crash at a motel."

"Oh, a motel. Hey big spender," You drawled, heading for your door.

"Hey."

"What?"

"You have the papers here?"

It stopped you dead in your tracks, your stomach churning with unease as you looked at him again.

"...What?"

"The divorce papers," He clarified. "I can sign 'em while I'm here."

It would be so easy. It would be so easy to go down to your office and draw the file out of your desk drawer, to plop it down in front of Patrick with your favorite black ballpoint pen, to flip between arrow tabs and instruct, "Sign here, here, here, here, here, and here."

But you found yourself shaking your head.

"I don't have a copy," You fibbed. It took Patrick a moment before he nodded a little.

"Can you get them?"

Hell, were you that out of practice? One night back in bed with you and he was ready to call it? But you were certain that wasn't it—That Patrick was, for once in his goddamn life, trying to make it easy on you after so much hell.

"...Maybe, I don't know," You shrugged. "It's the weekend."

"Okay."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah—Hey."

"What?"

You watched as Patrick pulled the covers away, unashamed of his nakedness as he strode toward you. He grasped your chin, tipping your head for a soft kiss. It took everything in you not to melt into him as he skimmed his hand over your hip, drawing back just enough to give you a sleepy, hazy smile.

"Good morning."

You couldn't help your own, indignant smile.

"Sure, Patrick." You turned away, determined to push on with your day, your life like he wasn't there—like he wouldn't be hanging over you as you made breakfast, or dominating the court as he played, or in your bed again in just a few hours. "Good morning."

[stormberry-12]

the pogues/ESPECIALLY JJ would protect innocent!reader SO MUCH. like she could be the youngest or something and they would go back for her (for ex. when they had to leave jb in s3). anyways jj would so definitely say something like, “you’re like their little sister, but you’re MY girl.” yk

my woman ~ jj maybank x reader

Ahh yes, I totally agree, and I LOVE the innocent!reader and JJ trope>>>

pairing: jj x innocent!fem!reader

warnings: slight language, reader in danger, mega fluff.

notes: lowercase intended, this was made late at night and not rlly edited srry if its bad lmao, not from season 3 but a close concept. :)

you shifted around and felt the sun on your face as your eyes fluttered open. you were in the twinkie bumping along a winding road, clinging onto jj, who was sitting in his seat, like a koala. or as jay called it, "the front pack", it was like a piggyback but on his front because he always wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay.

you shifted your legs around his torso and lifted your head from the crook of his neck.

"hiya, cupcake," he whispered softly, taking one of his arms that was wrapped around you and moving it so he could brush strands of hair from out of your eyes. "good nap?"

you nodded, wiping the sleep from your eyes, and he smiled. you suddenly recalled how you had gotten here and relief washed over you.

you were running through alleyways on the cut, you felt betrayed. where had the pogues gone? they were there with you five seconds ago and now you were running away from those bloody square groupers alone.

over by the pogues, jj was having a mental breakdown, "where did she go man?"

"damn it!" john b exclaimed."pope, i thought she was behind you when we cut down this way!

"we have to go back for her-" jj houghed.

"i don't know jay..."

"no... no. we have to." he held his hat in one hand and ran the other through his hair in distress.

"he's right, we have to." pope agreed.

"come on man, we finally lost those guys and now you want to follow em?" john b sighed.

"jb you of all people should understand, she's like a little sister to you man! she's still only 16 and this kind of stuff scares the shit out of her, i can't do that to her guys-"

"john b we're going after her," kie pleaded.

"god! we're wasting time, i'm gonna go after her, even if i have to do it by myself!" jj ran off in your last seen direction. john b gave in and followed along with the rest of the pogues, they all knew jj was right, and their group wouldn't survive without you.

as you continued to run, blood pumping through your ears, you looked for the best spot to hide behind, trying to throw them off. you slid behind a large dumpster and listened as the sets of footsteps of the two men ran past you.

you waited a moment, calming your breathing before you moved from behind the bin. you jumped as the footsteps came back in your direction, but instead of those square groupers, it was jj and the pogues.

"y/n!" j sighed in relief scooping you up into his arms. "I'm so sorry, that will never happen again-"

you just stood there too exhausted to complain, your face buried in his chest. john b brought the twinkie around the corner and you all piled in, driving off into the night.

"you came back for me," you smiled at your boyfriend wrapping your arms around his neck, still facing him on his lap.

"of course," jj said. "you know you're like their little sister, we honestly would fall apart without you... and your my girl."

"your girl?" you giggled.

"my girl, my woman, my soulmate." he repeated smoothly pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes. "you sure you're okay?"

"yeah," you said, leaning into his touch, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. "perfect,"

[erwinsvow]

there’s an outdoor shower at the chateau—a tiny thing, really, just three planks of wood and the wall of john b’s home where the showerhead is attached. the water pressure depends on the day, depends on if anyone is using the bathroom inside the house or if jj accidentally left the faucet in the kitchen running. 

there’s a rusty hook where clothes can be hung if the other shower was occupied, and the towel is always thrown just over the door opposite the water so it doesn’t get too wet.

you are well accustomed to this shower. you know exactly how to hang your towel to avoid the waterfall, where to avoid stepping because the rocks get slippery. sometimes the door opens up by itself, the result of old hinges and worn out screws, but you don’t pay it much mind, because after all, it’s nothing the boys haven’t seen before.

you’d consider yourself still decent, even showering like this. your bikini was filled with grains of sand, the result of being pushed around at the beach by jj and pope for the last hour. there’s a huge sandy hand print on your shoulder from where john b had helped you up, and you let the water wash it away with a smile. 

you’re sandy everywhere, but that’ll have to wait until you’re back home. you wash your hair with the cheap shampoo sitting on the ground, the three-in-one you and kiara beg the boys to dispose of. 

but at the very least you feel clean, rinsing the suds from your scalp and watching them run down your body and then onto the ground, draining into the grass. you’ve been spending too much time with kie—your first thought is that you hope this stuff doesn’t leach chemicals into the soil.

lost in the warmth since you’re the first to shower and the boys haven’t used up all the hot water yet, you close your eyes and forget the door’s opened by itself. you think it doesn’t matter since everyone’s at pope’s already. you were the only one who insisted on showering before joining them, promising you’ll bike over after ten minutes, though pope reassures the others it’ll be at least twenty-five.

there’s a voice coming from the backyard, rafe thinks, stalking further and further into the shoddy little house. the land wasn’t terrible, right on the lake, but the place was anything but well kept, a mess of missing shingles and splintered wood. he stops thinking about the house as soon as the voice becomes clearer, the further he steps into the back. he was here to convey a message to the pogues that call this place home, but no one that he wanted to find was around.

stepping in mud and grass, he walks to the backyard, a pretty voice filling the humid air. you’re singing something he doesn’t know, something that sounds vaguely familiar. maybe something ward used to play on the record player in the study, back when rafe used to spend time with him.

you, whoever you are, sound nice, even muffled by the sound of the running water. when rafe gets closer, he sees there’s no door blocking his view to a pretty girl washing her hair and singing softly. you’re in nothing but a yellow bikini, showing him all too much but at the same time not entirely enough.

he’s not sure how long he stood there. it must have been some time, because when you twist the shower knob and stop the water, turning to grab your towel, you see rafe and curse loudly, shoulders raising in fear by themselves. 

you stand like that for a moment before realizing rafe is staring, probably because you’re in a tiny, wet bikini. you yank the towel and cover yourself.

“can i help you?” you demand, the sweet voice all gone. even if you didn’t recognize rafe, the clothes he wore and his expensive shoes covered in the dirt of the chateau’s grounds were a dead giveaway. 

“yeah. m’lookin’ for the idiots that live here. seen them around?”

“no. goodbye.” he laughs at that. eyes raking over your body again. you’re covered now but still feel exposed, like he can see through your towel.

“funny, kid. when you see ‘em give them a message from me, will ya?” 

“leave a voicemail like a normal person. i’m not your messen-”

“yeah, yeah. tell your boys we know what they did.” you stare back at him, confused by what he means but angry at the intrusion and the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. “sure. whatever that means. are you all done being a stalker now?” he laughs again.

“we’ll see. bye kid.”

[thought--bubble]

Like A Dream

Tom Bennett X (Pregnant Wife Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,954

Tom Bennett Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Based on THIS request

Banners by @arcielee

A/N: Writing this came so naturally to me. I had my daughter young and was looking my best right before I got pregnant, so I used personal experience for this one 🥰 also I did an abnormal amount of research regarding the rarity of grapes during this time period and how special it would be for someone to find them available for purchase 🤣🤣

Warnings:: Body Dysmorphia, pregnancy, minor depression,smut, oral sex (F receiving)

"You alright love?" Your husband asks from his place on the sofa as you walk through the front door.

You sigh. "Yes, Tom," you carry the few bags with food you picked up from the market and place them on the kitchen counter.

Ever since Tom found out you were pregnant, he fawns over you. He hates the idea of you lifting a finger in your delicate condition. The problem? You are a very independent person and like your freedom.

"Not too convincing." he rises from the couch and goes to the counter, peeking through the bags to see what you bought.

"Mmmm, they had grapes!" He plucks a grape off the vine and pops it into his mouth.

"Tom!" You playfully hit his arm."They should be washed first! You don't know who had their hands all over em before I bought em!"

"I survived war, love." He leans his back against the counter. "Don't think a grape is gonna do me in when bombs couldn't"

"Yeah, well, they can still make ya sick, and I'm already sick every morning. Can't have the two of us going. " You huff and sit down in one of the old creaky wooden chairs that sit around the scuffed up second-hand table you successfully purchased off a neighbor about a year ago.

"Hey...." He leans down towards you and pushes your hair back. "You're tired and stressed, darlin. Let me take care of this, yeah?"

"I can do it." You grumble, annoyed, and try to pull yourself from the seat, but your near end of term pregnancy belly made standing an incredibly challenging endeavor.

Tom gives you a stern look. "More stubborn than I am." He gives you that cheeky smile, and you playfully roll your eyes.

"That's not possible" Tom is the most stubborn person on the planet as far as you were concerned and you know for a fact that even on your worst day you couldn't possibly be more stubborn than the man you married.

"Ah! I always knew ya married me for my looks." He wiggles his eyebrows at you as he unloads the groceries.

"What can I say? You got me with those blue eyes, and that smile." You look at him lovingly. You married him for a million reasons. He had pursued you relentlessly for weeks before you finally caved and went out with him. You didn't have any reason you made him wait other than thoroughly enjoying watching him try to convince you of something you already wanted desperately.

"Thank God for my parents! They gave me the good stuff!" He chuckles loudly, and you watch him in awe. Tom had this aura about him. He exudes confidence. Tom is handsome. He knows it, and he embraces it. You hardly ever see him without a smile on his face, and he takes almost nothing seriously.

You sigh to yourself as you move to try and pull yourself out of the chair again. Pregnancy is a magical thing. You know this. You feel it, yet you can't help the way it has you feeling about the body it leaves behind.

Your face is fuller. Something people have been complimenting you on, yet you hate it. Your hips are wider, and your already plump thighs have somehow grown bigger.

The discomfort with the changes in your body started gradually, but as you near the end of your pregnancy, less and less do you like what stares back at you in the mirror.

The tears start to well up in your eyes as you fight a losing battle to hold them back.

"Hey..hey! What is going on, love?" Tom crouches before you cupping your cheeks on either side of your face. He furrows his brows in obvious concern. "Talk to me," he gently rubs his thumb against your cheekbone. His heart breaks a little as he looks into your tear filled eyes. Upset with himself that you are this sad, and he didn't notice until now.

You take in a shakey breath and look at him with despair. "I'm a terrible mum, and the baby isn't even here yet." The flood gates break open, and tears finally start to pour down your face.

"W-why... why would you say that?" He scootches closer to you, placing his hands on either side of your thighs and rubbing his hands up and down.

"I should be happy! A good mother would be happy, but..." The tears are pouring out of your face now, the sadness, guilt, and shame bubbling over and making you feel like you have lost complete control over your emotional state.

"But what, sweetheart?" He drops down to his knees, pushing himself between your legs while he continues to caress your thighs. "You can talk to me, oh darlin, please talk to me."

"I ... I ... I ... I hate it!" You start to sob your face in your hands. "I'm tired, everything aches, it's difficult to move, and all that would be bearable if .... if i didn't look so disgusting now"

"Disgusting??" Tom balks at the statement. "Someone say something to you?" His face contorts in anger. "Was that Mike arse three doors down, wasn't it?" Tom nearly growls. "That's about how much he hates me nothing to do with you, darlin. I'll go sort him." Tom shoots up quickly, tossing on his jacket.

"TOM!" You screech just as he is about to fly out the front door, most likely to rearrange Mike's face. Mike and Tom do not like each other it is certainly not a secret in your neighborhood. Yet Mike has never been anything but pleasant to you. After all, his issue was with Tom, and he wasn't going to take that out on you for simply being Tom's wife.

"No one said anything to me, I have eyes! And a mirror! I can see it clearly for myself!" His heart shatters completely when he hears the crack in your voice, his jaw drops, and he wants to retort but quickly stops himself. The priority is you. He needs to take care of you, so as aggravated as he is, he softens his features and turns back to you.

He drops his jacket on the back of one of the other kitchen chairs and takes your hand. "Let's get you into bed, you need rest" You sniffle and nod as he places your hand in his, while gently holding your lower back with the other making sure to get you out of the chair in the most comfortable way possible.

Once you're up and walking, he wraps an arm around you, gently leading you up the stairs and into the bedroom . He helps you get into the bed, raising your legs and sliding them in before crawling in next to you, his face directly across from yours as you both lay on your side facing each other.

"Thank you," your whisper is gentle with a hint of lingering sadness as he reaches over and caresses right under your eye with his thumb.

"You. are. beautiful." He moves closer to you and puts his forehead against yours "Always".

You chuckle slightly. "You are a good husband, Tom Bennett." You lean forward and kiss him gently.

He pulls back from you, cupping your face in his hands. "Look at me"

You look him directly in the eyes. Yours are still a bit watery, so you try to blink back the tears.

"You. are. beautiful." He repeats."You are always beautiful, don't you ever forget that. Big, pregnant, bald even, you are always beautiful"

You giggle and sigh. "You're too good to me"

"Aven't been good enough love. Or you wouldn't feel like this. " He kisses you softly but deeply while gently rolling you onto your back.

"Been neglectin' ya. Work and allat." He kisses down your neck."I'll make it up."

You hum contentedly and place your hand on the back of his head. Arousal builds up in your core, but you're so tired you don't know if you have it in you right now.

"Don't know if I have the energy for this right now." You chuckle as you close your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of him on your neck.

"Just lie back and relax. This is all about you"

He moves down your body, placing a delicate kiss to your belly before pushing your dress up around your hips.

"Oh Tom, you don't have to do this." You say as he pulls your knickers down your legs.

" I wish I did have to do it. Wish it was an everyday requirement, but I guess I have to settle for doing it when you'll let me. " He brings his hands to your heat, pushing your legs out wider.

"Stunning site, really,"

"Tom!" You chuckle and reach down to give him a whack, but he catches your hand and holds it.

He licks a stripe straight up your center. Your hand squeezes his tight, letting him know the pleasure that is building up.

He gently flicks your bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, bringing his free hand to your hip and rubbing circles there with his thumb.

You involuntarily move your hips, desperate for more friction. "You're supposed to be relaxin," he taunts

He returns to your clit swallowing it whole and sucking on it harshly while rolling his tongue over it.

"Oh god, Tom!" You can't help but yell out, your hips taking on a mind of their own as you move against his face.

He smiles against you as he releases your clit nudging it with his nose as he travels lower lapping up your juices before sticking his tongue inside.

Your eyes fly open as you look at the ceiling above you, panting harshly. If someone asked you your name right now, you wouldn't even know the answer. Your head is completely empty of everything, save for the pleasure you are experiencing.

His brings his hand off your hip, the other still grasping your hand tightly. He rubs at your clit with his thumb as he fucks you with his tongue.

"Ahhh. Ahh!" You squeeze his hand tightly as you writhe against his face, getting closer and closer to sweet release.

His hand and tongue switch places as he slides two fingers into you while sucking on your engorged nerve.

"Oh my god, Tom, I can't. I can't!" You don't know what you can't do. You just know that you can't.

He pulls back momentarily. " Oh yes, you can love, and ya will"

He brings his face back to your heat moving it from side to side over your clit while he increases the speed of his fingers.

Everything that happens now is automatic. Your legs lift up and squeeze his head as you arch your back and gasp for air as a title wave of pleasure washes over you.

Tom gives you a few more kitten licks as you ride out your high and stops when you start to twitch.

he crawls back up next to you and flops on his back, panting. "You're. .....beautiful.... don't.... ever... doubt .... that" he rolls onto his side and gazes at your face. "Promise me"

"I promise I'll try Tom." He knows that is the best answer he is going to get out of you so he just smiles.

"While we're talking about promises, I need you to make just one more tiny promise," he grins at you cheekily, sliding his body over so he is right up against yours.

"What?"

He takes your hand and places it over the massive bulge in his trousers

"That you'll help me with this"

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The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch12

Description: sorry for the long wait guys! Work has been crazyyyy - anyway. Here it is! Lil bit of progress with Simon - I reckon it’ll be 1 step forward, 2 back for a little while. Simon and Laika are both as fucked up as each other!! It’s a long chapter to make up for the wait. Hope you enjoy!!

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I'd been warned during dinner last night that I was going to be 'put through my paces' today. The Captain told me to get a good nights sleep. Kyle and Johnny dropped me off at my room - Kyle said goodnight with a soft kiss to my cheek, and Johnny told me not to let the bed bugs bite. He also kissed me on the cheek, but it was far too close to the corner of my mouth. He must have missed his target. I spent all night trying to brush it off.

*Johnny's POV*

The pizza had been good, Kyle was bold and kissed our little lass on the cheek. I couldn't stop myself, had to one up him.. Her little blush and awkward reaction made it worth the risk. Gaz and I practically ran back to our shared room - we needed to rest up for training tomorrow. We finally get to see what our little Lass is made of.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Knock Knock Knock

"Lass? Can we come in..? Y'ready for us?"

I'd just stepped out of the shower. "Uhh - two seconds.. I'm just getting changed" I shout back through the door. I rush to pull on some workout shorts and a black sports bra. I glance at myself in the mirror. I swear that I already look healthier - I'd gone sort of gaunt during my time at the facility. My skin looks brighter, I'm cleaner and relaxed... and happier.

"I'm dressed but still need to braid my hair.." As soon as the words have left my mouth, Johnny barrels into the room, followed closely by Kyle. "Mornin', Lass" - "Hi Johnny" I reply, softly. Kyle puts his arm around my shoulders and smiles brightly at me "ready for today? Cap's in charge of what we're doing.. just need to see where we are at with you.. apparently there's shit going down in Mexico so we might need to step in over there... Just before Christmas too.." he sighs sadly.

I furrow my brows - "Christmas? I thought it was October??" - "Ignore him, Lass, he is one of them crazy people who wants to put the tree up straight after Halloween".

I look at Kyle and giggle. "I thought it was winter when you first found me" - "It's always winter in Russia to be fair" Kyle jokes back. "Yeah but you can't go confusing me like that.. I've not been aware of seasons or dates for years, I was just starting to grasp it again.. so no Christmas stuff until December...?" I explain, feeling more and more relaxed around the two younger Alphas everyday. "You promise to be here for Christmas, then?" Johnny bargains. There's that sad flip in my stomach again. "I - I don't know where I'll be, Johnny.. I don't think I am in control of that decision".

"We'll not let you leave.." Kyle jokes "Aye, hide you away from the others" Johnny continues, nudging Kyle. They both laugh but I just shake my head.

We are interrupted by the Captain who stands in the open door, not stepping inside. "Laika, didn't I tell you that those two shouldn't just let themselves into your room like this...?" - "I - I let them in, Cap- Sorry- John" he huffs a laugh "If you say so. Put your trainers on and let's get to the gym before the basics turn up for the day. Ghost's there already". he grumbles, rolling his eyes at the possibility of basic training turning up mid-session.

"You don't have to worry if the rookies turn up, Lass. They're a bunch of prats, think they're all Billy big baws and like to throw their scents around and show off.. if any of them bother you, we'll sort 'em out" I look at Johnny and nod with furrowed brows. I was nervous.

The Lieutenant is loitering menacingly at the sparring mats when we all arrive at the gym. "Took your fuckin' time" he grunts. I try not to react but I can't help the guilt that washes over me. "Laika, on the mat" he jerks his head toward the mat. I obey and step onto the mat, ringing my hands together nervously, chewing the skin inside of my cheek. "Gaz, I want you to go through basic sparring movements, see what she's made of" the Luitennant orders. Kyle looks between the masked Alpha and myself with unsure eyes. "Are you sure..?" I look up at him nodding "I'll be ok.. orders are orders" I reassure myself, trying to slip back behind my own mask. Trying desperately to become the asset again. Unfeeling, cold and calculated.

My eyes start to take in Kyle's movements, analysing when and how he will move. He is the leanest of the pack of Alpha's, meaning he is probably the fastest. But I'm smaller and, hopefully, smarter. He steps, hesitantly onto the mat and raises his arms into a defensive position. "Gaz, for fuck sake, move!" the Lieutenant barks "She ain't going to throw the first punch!" Something inside of me screams 'NOW'.

I leap forward and slide to the ground taking Kyle's legs out from under him before he has the chance to react. He was too busy concentrating on the upper half of his body.

Kyle falls backwards and lands just beside me, so I scramble to get nearer, using my legs to restrain his arms and placing my forearm over his throat firmly so he couldn't move. I meet his eye, and he looks completely shocked. Then a slow smirk starts to form on his face. He reaches up and taps twice on my back. Impressive, lovie" he chuckles. I release him and clamber away from his body, which is still laying flat on the mat, I start apologising over and over again..

"Soap.. your turn. Try not to get distracted like Garrick did, this is all pointless if you go easy on her.." Ghost barks. I look at Johnny with sad eyes. "C'mon, lass.. you heard the man. Lets have a proper tussle" he wiggles his eyebrows. My body betrays me, as it so often does, falling victim to Johnny's flirtatious comments. I blush and look away. This time Johnny is on me as quickly as I look away. I'm the one caught off guard this time. SHIT.

He gets us both to the ground and I can tell he is attempting to use his weight advantage against me. He just wants to get me pinned which will win him the match. I realise that I need to get back to my feet, and fast. I allow him to roll me far too easily which gives me the momentum to push away from him. I knee toward his crotch while we roll and manage to catch him lightly, just enough for him to curl in on himself slightly, giving me a small enough window to climb back to my feet.

He tries to get up quickly but he is on his knees. I grab his neck and use all of my body weight to pull him to the floor, practically wrapped around his torso like some sort of demented koala bear. He chokes slightly and taps twice on my upper arm, which is currently holding his neck in a headlock. I immediately let go, "Sorry.. I'm sorry. I hate this..." I panic, thinking that I'd pissed him off. "Lass, nothin' to be sorry for. You're a feral little madam on the mats.." He brushes his legs off and grabs me around the shoulders, pulling me towards his chest. He presses a quick kiss to my hair and pushes me gently back towards the mat, not before whispering in my ear "Clever little Lass".

"Not bad" Ghost says. "Tell me what you think of knives.." - "the winner of a knife fight is whoever dies second, or finds help quickly enough to survive. No one stays clean in a knife fight.." I murmur. The luitennant tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me. It's difficult to read his thoughts when he has the mask on, but what I'd said obviously struck a nerve with him. "Show me what you mean by that - here.." he hands me a dummy knife and steps toward the mat behind me..

"Wi-with you..?" I ask nervously. "Problem?" he grunts back at me. I shake my head.

He stands there with confidence. I must look ridiculous. I don't know what to do. The lieutenant suddenly takes a wide swipe with the knife, it narrowly misses my stomach thanks to my quick survival instincts telling my body to jump backwards. I suddenly snap back into the 'asset' mindset. I leap forward and aim for his head. His eyes, to be specific. I see a flash of surprise cross his eyes before he slams the knife from my hand, pain shoots up my entire arm but I ignore it. I react by kicking his outstretched arm so that he is also knife-less. I then leap at him and try to clamber up his back. He grabs me by the shoulder and slams me hard on the ground winding me. I slide backwards, terrified at the behemoth of an Alpha towering over me. I whimper, scared trying to get away, still winded and pain still shooting up my arm.

"Stop. STOP" he bellows. I whimper again, confused and terrified. I can see a storm brewing behind the masked Alpha's eyes. "GAZ - get her up, for fuck sake.." the Lieutenant storms away from the gym, the Captain following closely behind him. My eyes don't leave his form until the gym doors swing shut and Kyle and Johnny are cooing at me, trying to calm me down.

*GHOSTS POV*

FUCK, she's not a trained soldier by any stretch. But Christ, she goes into a desperate survival mode. Kill or be killed is the only description I can think of. Watching how she sparred with Kyle and Johnny, she was scared. Acting out of fear, and fear alone.

I wanted to see her knife skills - I don't know why I decided I should spar with her. She suddenly switched. That look in her eyes. She was feral. She was genuinely trying to hurt me. She had no differentiation between training and real fighting. It was all real to her. Kill or be killed - and she thought I was trying to kill her... She thinks I'm a monster.

I try to stop her by disarming her, I know my thumping blow to her arm must have hurt. It had to, but she barely even flinched. She was in survival mode. She caught me off guard and disarmed me. Clever girl, leveling the playing field - if this was a real fight that is - but I was trying to halt the fight. She needed to cool off before she went even more feral.

I was NOT expecting her to leap at my back and try to choke me. It left me with only one option - to flip her and get her flat on the ground. It worked for a couple of seconds. She paused, the look in her eye no longer murderous. But within a split second, she stunk of pure fear. Like she was staring at death himself. Me. I try to step forward with a hand out to show that I was no longer armed but she backed away, eyes flashing like a cornered dog.

SHIT. Why'd my stomach do that. I'm trying to help her and she's fuckin' terrified of me. Fuckin' hurt her too.

"Stop" I try. It doesn't work. "STOP" fuck Simon, why can't you be fuckin' gentle for once?! Brute - my brain shouts at me.

"Gaz - get her up, for fuck sake.." I shout. She looks helpless but, fuck, I feel helpless as well. I've never felt like this.

The sharp, sour smell of her fear. It makes my eyes water. Makes me want to fuckin' hurl. I turn and leave, not feeling well all of a sudden.

She has two Alpha's she actually likes to help her. Fuck, I hope she isn't hurt.. I don't deserve nice things. My Pack are probably going to drop me now. The fucking brute that you are Simon Riley.

The anger at my own stupidity boils over. I'd almost made it back to the Pack room but my fist meets the wall before I get there. I roar, angrily - or did it sound more broken than that? FUCK. Then I smell Price. He is fuckin' seething. I can already smell him.

I slam the door to the shared room and slide down the wall, grabbing angrily at my mask. I rip it from my face. "ARGRGHHHHHH" I roar again. I grab fistfuls of my hair. Fuckin' prick.

I hear the door close and then a presence sit beside me. It's Price.

"What the bloody hell happened back there Simon?" he growls. I can tell he is holding back his rage.

"She was feral" I grunt. I didn't know what else to say..

"And why was that..? Why did you let it get to that stage..?" he asks. Fuck sake, he is treating me like a fuckin' child.

"Wasn't just me. The girl doesn't know the difference between practice and survival.. She was fighting for her fuckin' life" I growl, pulling at my hair.

I feel his hands pry mine away from my head. "Simon. C'mon. Look at me.." - "Alpha - I need some time..." I break slightly.

"Time for what, Simon?" - "Time to think. I don't understand what is happening.. I can't stand the girl. I can't be near her"

John stays silent beside me, knowing that I needed to find my own way out from this maze.

"But.. but when she had that look in her eye, I needed to protect her. Protect her from me.. It's either me or her, Cap. I can't be near her. I'll kill her".

A warm hand grips my shoulder and squeezes. "Simon. You are too hard on yourself. You are the glue that often holds this pack together. Laika is finding her place in a new world. You've been in a similar position. I have a feeling you two are more alike than you think. Please, give it time. I'm not throwing you out of the pack, Simon. I'm not even angry at you. Never doubt your place or importance here, Simon - Never. Is that understood?"

My eyes furrow. I grab my mask and pull it back over my face. "Yes, sir. Understood" - "good, now come. The boys will have calmed Laika down by now" - "I hurt her" I interrupt. "You didn't mean to. I know you were trying to stop the fight. I saw it" - "she will need the medic.. I hit her hard. Can't do anything gentle. Fuckin' brute" - "Simon.. you did what you had to... she was going feral. C'mon, no more sparring. We will move onto target practice and finish with a five kilometer run - together. That'll be enough to fill in her file. We can make up the rest. She is on the team, I don't care about all of the tests".

I can feel my head clearing, the pack Alpha had successfully dragged me from a dark spiral. My panic attacks were not pretty. I get back to my feet when he offers me a hand to help hoist me up. "Sorry.." - "No Simon, save your apologies. Small steps, yeah? Let's work on chipping away at that wall you put up around Laika first. The boys adore her already.." - "I know. Johnny reeks of her at night time. Felt like I was wakin' up next to a fuckin' Omega this morning" - "Simon, she hasn't presented. I had her tested - results aren't back till next.." - "John - she is a fuckin' Omega. Stunk of honey and oranges since the first time I saw her tied up against the wall when Johnny found her. Can't you smell her..?"

"Faintly. The doctors said her scent will settle once the drugs leave her system. But her scent - it's barely there, Simon. She smells more like Johnny and Kyle right now" he shakes his head at me as if he doesn't believe me. "That's impossible.." - "I'll talk to the doctors tomorrow, Simon. We've got to get through today. I've got Kate on at me about Mexico - we will need to decide what to do about that - so the sooner she is cleared to work with us, the better, understood?" - "Yes, sir" - "Right, screw your head back on and come with me. I'll take the lead for the rest of the day. You sit back with Johnny and cool yourself off, ok?" -

“Affirmative”

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Kyle and Johnny saw what happened. They saw me trying to kill their pack mate. "I'm sorry - I don't - I don't know what happened.. I'm.." - "Shhh Love, hey, look at us - you need to look at us. We aren't angry at you. The Captain is with Simon, he will be ok. We need to check your back and your arm. You got hit pretty hard.." Kyle explains, stroking my cheek.

"Aye, Lass, c'mon, let us have a wee look, just want to make sure you're ok.." - "I'm fine.. I'm ok.." - "You sure..?" - "Yeah, promise" I assure them, even though I am feeling the aches from Ghost's hits. I jump slightly when the gym doors crash open. It's them. The Captain and Lieutenant. Ghost stops about 10 yards from the rest of us. I try not to look toward him, still feeling nervous. I see the Captain nod Johnny in Ghost's direction and Johnny immediately walks toward the massive Alpha and comforts him.

The Captain steps closer to me. "You're ok to continue? Not hurt?" - "No, Captain" I pretend. "Ok, we are going to the shooting range.. boys, lead the way" He directs toward Johnny and Ghost. They both turn and lead us to the shooting range. It's a huge open field. Targets and metal human-shaped silhouettes peaking out from behind pretend trenches and sand bag walls.

There are a couple of sergeants already shooting when we arrive. I get handed a set of ear protectors from John. He then walks me to a locked metal shed and explains that this is one of the gun-stores on the base.

"You said you were a sniper?" _ "Yes" - "What'd you use..?" - "Uhm.. A gun..?" - "You don't know what model of rifle?" - "Oh.. sorry.. no - I just used what they gave me, just happened to be quite good" I admit shyly. He huffs a small laugh and then grabs a large case and lays it gently on the ground, opening the top to reveal a huge, dark green rifle.

"This is an Accuracy International rifle.. we've used them for a long while now, best you'll get. We can alter sights and scopes to suit you. They're quite lightweight compared to other manufacturers. In all, it's probably seven kilos - give it a try and see what you think, Love". I stare at the piece of metal as if it would jump out and attack me. "This is the L96 model.. I assume that you used a Russian SV-98 type? They're popular over there. Poor mans sniper they are, if you were good with one of them, you'll be impressive with one of these" the Captain rambles. It's all pretty pointless to be honest because I know nothing about guns. I was just thrown one by a guard and told to shoot it, and punished if I missed. You learn fast that way.

I listen to him talk anyway, enjoying the gruffness of his voice and the fact that he seemed quite interested and excited to talk about guns. I nod along as if I understand what he is saying. "Ok, Let's give it a try then, love" -he hands me the gun and stands closely behind me. "See that target over there" he points "I want you to hit that - take your time". I nod and get comfortable holding the rifle. It feels different. Foreign. I lower myself to the ground and eye up the target in the scope. I breathe in and hold my breath. One, two, click.

"Well done - slightly left but hit the target" the Captain says. I furrow my brows, confused. "Can I try again?" I ask, disappointed. He shrugs and nods. I aim again and concentrate more this time. Breathe in. Hold it. One, Two, Shoot... Fuckin' left again.. what the fuck?

"You're doin' well, Lass. Why are you pissed off. It's not like you're missing.." Johnny pipes up. I scoff at him. "It should be hitting dead center.. I don't miss, Johnny.. I can't miss like this.." I rant. "I'm trying again, I think the guns sight is off.." I get into position the same as the last two tries but this time I aim half a line further to the right of the cross hair. One, two, Click. I huff a laugh. "Got it.. I need to aim off to the right to make a clean hit. I'll get used to it.." I mumble, continuing to eye the scope and point the rifle in different directions, pretending to aim at things. "Whoa, lass. Dinnae point it at us, fuck sake" Johnny jokes as I start turning slowly towards the pack. I was totally in my own little world there.

"We can have the sight adjusted if you like?" John offers "although I doubt it's this one that's been off. I reckon the one you've learnt to shoot with is off - so you naturally drop your rest arm to allow for the difference. Have you noticed that..?" John questions. "Uhm, no.. I've only ever used that sniper rifle.. I don't really know much about guns - was just given a crash course to be honest.."

He smiles and pats the top of my head "Well you ain't half bad for just having had a crash course, love - those hits would have passed you as a sniper here anyway, yet here you are complaining that you're a couple of millimeters left of where you wanted it.." I laugh nervously and look down at my feet.

Kyle walks up beside me and removes the gun from my arms and places it gently back in its case. "Better shot than most of us, anyway.. I reckon with a bit of familiarization with the new scope, you'll out-perform LT" I immediately glance back to the ground and feel nervous, scared to feel the wrath of the Lieutenant again. I subconsciously rub my sore arm before the Captain speaks up. "I wanted to end the day with a quick five kilometer run. It'll give Laika chance to see the perimeter of the base and also good exercise for you three lazy buggers!" he jokes. Johnny clutches his chest in false offence, Kyle just laughs and walks himself over to the Captain, giving him a gentle shove. "Lazy, sir? I'm not sure about that.." I blush - was he flirting with his Alpha? I shouldn't be witnessing this. I'm not one of them.. The Captain chuckles darkly and jokingly grabs Kyle by the scruff of his neck and growls softly at him, causing the younger Alpha to groan and blush. I turn away.

Johnny just laughs along, elbowing Simon who still looks pissed off from this mornings encounter.

The gun case gets placed on the floor of the large cabinet, stood upright. The Captain goes and chats to the supervisor and takes a small paper ticket and signs something. I watch from a distance, assuming he was just signing the gun back into storage. He returns to the group and smiles "Right, get your arses in gear. Take the first km steady as the warm up, then we will see who's the fastest. Finish is back here. Full lap of the base.. no cheating, Simon". I furrow my brows again, god I do that a lot, I'm going to get a frown line if I'm not careful. The Lieutenant didn't strike me as the type to cheat on a simple jog. I shake my head and watch the others limber up and stretch. I don't join them. Just watch, confused. I only ever ran when I was forced or chased. Never for.. leisure?

"Right, Kyle - lead us off for the first few hundred meters, just to get us onto the outside loop" - "Yessir'" Kyle chirps back. He strides off quickly. I try to stay with Johnny. Simon and John jogging gently behind. I stay on Johnny's heels for a few minutes but can feel myself getting tired. He keeps looking round at me as if he is surprised I'm still that close to him. Kyle is away out in front. How does he make it look so easy?! He is barely breaking a sweat, looks like he is just floating. I guess he was the best runner of the team. Johnny runs like a man possessed. I huff a laugh, his run matches his personality. All elbows and fast movements. He looked busy but he was still fast. I glance behind to try and spot the other two Alphas.

"Dinnae' look back when you're running Lassie, you'll trip!" Johnny shouts, while running backwards. What a showoff! I scoff and roll my eyes at him before wiping the sweat from my brow. "The two big'uns are slow, lass! Too heavy to be speedy like me and Kyle.." He jokes, speeding up and slowing down. "Johnny!" I pant, struggling to talk while gasping for air "Stop showing off!" - "No, Lass - I'm impressed, you're doing well! Didn't think you'd keep up with me to be honest - Gaz ran track when he was at school, he coulda been a pro runner, fucken bullshit. He has the record on base - as if I didn't almost bust a fuckin' gut to beat him to still lose" he laughs. I glance up ahead and Kyle is barely even trying. In fact, it looks like he is on his phone.. he has slowed right down as if he is waiting for us.

I just concentrate on forcing my feet to keep hitting the ground one in front of the other. I couldn't say that I was enjoying this, but it was better than being forced or chased.. It was weirdly satisfying. My lungs were on fire but I wasn't in danger.. I was just running for the sake of it - something I never thought I'd ever manage to do again. I felt like a child in a playground. The strange nostalgic feeling helps to push the pain and fatigue away. I actually somehow manage to pick up the pace. I glance back behind me and can no longer see the two larger Alphas. Just Kyle a couple of hundred meters ahead, and Johnny about ten meters in front of me.

I fall into a relaxed state, all I could hear was my own breaths and all I concentrated on was keeping them even. In Out In Out In Out. A few meters we turn a corner and I spot the Captain and Lieutenant ahead of us all. HANG ON A FUCKIN' MINUTE - CHEATS. I speed up, as does Johnny. "Ya see that, Lass, fuckin' Cap dinnae even take his own advice. Let's get them!" He shouts back to me mischievously. I giggle and shake my head fondly, but push myself faster.

Kyle goes past them first and obviously makes a comment because Ghost gestures with his hands and John throws his head back and laughs while still jogging slowly. I don't quite hear as Johnny and I are still about fifty meters behind them. C'mon, lass - you jump Cap, I'll get Ghost.."

"Jump... wait Johnny - what do you mean...?" Johnny had already shot off and almost caught up to them. I push myself into a sprint and my face splits into a huge smile. Johnny had leapt onto Simon's Ghost's back and bundled them both to the ground. I don't quite know what came over me in the moment. I laugh and leap at John in the same style that Johnny had with Ghost. John huffs as I hit into his back and stays running for a few strides before eventually loosing his balance and falling to the ground. He rolls so that he is underneath me and takes the brunt of the fall. He grunts as his back hits the grass. I can hear Johnny cackling like a madman and then the Captain speaks from underneath me.

"Johnny's bad behavior is rubbing off on you, love.." I blush and look away, only to meet eyes with Kyle, who is smiling brightly at the scene in front of him. I decide to be very brave. I stop laughing along with Johnny and sit back on his lap and reply back playfully "Bad behavior, Sir? It wasn't us who broke our own rule of not cheating.." I trail off, feeling nervous at how he was going to take my response. He goes silent before growling. I freeze momentarily before I feel his warm arms around me. He stands easily holding my weight and drops me off in Kyle's arms. "Cheeky little thing, you are. I'll need to ask Kyle to teach you some manners, you little minx.." My face heats up and I hide in Kyle's shoulder, giggling. I look over to Johnny who is beaming even though he is pinned by the largest Alpha. Christ, the Lieutenant is massive. Something inside of me makes me whimper, thinking that Johnny is in danger. I wriggle slightly and Kyle turns me away from the scene and whispers into my ear "Simon would never hurt any of us.. trust me on that, yeah?" I whine a reply along the lines of 'mmmhmm'.

*John's POV*

Simon and I decide to treat the final run as a leisurely jog. I already knew that the two young Alphas would shoot off like bloody rockets. They always did the same. What I don't expect is for little Y/N to keep pace with Johnny. Yes, she looks like she is struggling slightly, but the girl has guts. She keeps the pace.

Simon grunts at me around half way through, says that we should meet them at the end so that they 'don't get up to any mischief'. Of course, I agree, and nod in the direction of the best short cut. My knees aren't getting any younger, after all.

Simon and I rejoin the outer perimeter, having cut the top loop out. Kyle jogs by and tells us that our cheating isn't going to go down well with Johnny. Simon tells him to 'do one, Garrick' and something about how we aren't all 'failed athletes' like him which forces a laugh to bellow from my mouth. Such a back handed compliment.

The next thing that I do not predict happening is for Johnny to fell Simon like a fuckin' tree - the boy near on rugby tackles the lad. I watch it all happen from the corner of my eye, laughing as Simon hits the deck and Johnny crawls over him. The boy is like a terrier. Insatiable and endlessly energetic. The next thing I don't reckon on happening is for Y/N to creep around my peripheral vision and leap onto my back.

It's a given, she is much lighter that Johnny, but she also carries herself with much more grace. Her 'rugby tackle' method was rather cat-like. I manage to stay upright for a few strides until her leg taps mine, causing me to trip. It was one of those falls when you know you're going down. It gives me time to spin and take the fall so that I don't land on her, or catapult her, face first, into the grass.

I land on my back and stare back up at her happy face while she is draped across my chest, clung like a Koala. Her walls were down in this moment. She is genuinely happy. I have to move heaven and earth to not grab at her. Her scent is rolling off of her - as strong and sweet as I have smelt it. Control yourself, John!

She blushes like crazy at my comment - about how Johnny is rubbing off on her. She then sasses back at me and Christ, I need to get away from her before I do something that will scare her away. But I'm a greedy man. I stand with her, not quite able to release her yet. I drop her off with sweet Kyle. He wouldn't take advantage of her like I would. I cant help myself. I make an overly sexual remark about Kyle teaching her manners. We all know it wouldn't be Kyle who taught her manners. That job is down to Simon and I. Kyle and Y/N blush, I notice that Kyle nuzzles into her neck when she hides her pretty little blush in his shoulder. Cheeky boy couldn't help himself could he?

Something changes in her expression when she looks up to see Simon pinning Johnny. Then, almost within a split second, her scent changes to a sharper, sour scent. She is scared again. Simon notices the change without even looking. I can tell by his body language. He softens his hold on the younger Alpha and leans down to scent him, Johnny laughs and nuzzles all over Simon's mask. I glance to see how Laika reacts but Kyle had already turned her away. Damn it!

When will she ever see the soft side of Simon Riley?

I take a deep breath, to try and calm myself down from the earlier excitement. As an Alpha, I hadn't had a woman - let alone a possible Omega - sitting on top of me for years now. Of course, my body reacted accordingly. Once I've successfully chilled out, I turn and step back towards a smirking Kyle and a happier Y/N.

I push the loose strands of her hair back behind her ears. "C'mon love".

She giggles and apologises for her earlier behavior. "Don't ever say sorry for having fun, love. I enjoyed seeing you like that. Even Simon chuckled at your little sassy comment.." I wiggle my eyebrows. She blushes again and looks down. She really is unsure of Simon.

I'd - We'd - need to rectify that...

- two days later -

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Darkness, wet, blood, pain, screaming...

Another nightmare. I thought they were getting better. I cannot get myself out of this one, tossing and turning. I can feel the sweat and tears falling from my face. Was that real or just the nightmare?

*Ghost's POV*

A blood curdling scream echoes the hallway at about 1AM. I was sitting in the kitchen with my feet up on the coffee table, reading a book. I stand up immediately and follow my nose to her room. What the fuck am I supposed to do. The others are all asleep, she is fuckin' terrified of me but she is whimpering and crashing about in there. Fuck it. I'm going in. The annoying Alpha voice inside of my brain is screaming to help her. I wish it would shut the fuck up to be honest. It's been louder than ever since the second she turned up.

I bang on the door - no answer. I step into the strange room hesitantly. Stupid girl didn't even lock the door. I know that Alphas shouldn't intrude Omega's nests, but she needed help.

She isn't on the fuckin' bed. She's ran away, heard me fuckin' coming. She is hiding somewhere. Stupid fuckin' bastard - should never have come in here. She probably thinks I'm coming to kill her.

Over the sound of my thoughts, I hear another pained whimper. The cupboard. Don't tell me that she's-

She is in the fuckin' cupboard. In a fuckin' nest. A nest with Johnny and Kyle's clothes and - is that Cap's missing towel? He lost that yesterday..

I find myself staring at the sight inside of the cupboard. Probably for too long, because I'm drawn back to the situation when she starts breathing erratically.

I try to gently tap her arm. She doesn't wake up. I squeeze her arm now, she flinches, but still doesn't wake up.

"Laika.. it's - fuck - it's me.. Ghost... Wake up..." - nothing. Just more thrashing around.

"Fuckin' hell" I grumble. I lower myself so that I am knelt on the floor in the doorway of the open cupboard. I grab her shoulders and shake. It's the only option I have, having tried everything else.

She snaps out of her nightmare with a shriek, slapping and scrabbling at my chest and face. "Fuck girl - it's me.. I'm - I'm tryin to fuckin' help you" - "DON'T TOUCH ME - GET AWAY" she yells at me.

I'd be lying if my heart didn't freeze over when she says that. Such fear in her voice. Fuck it. Only option left. I grab her around the waist and hold her in one arm, flinging her over my shoulder. She is crying and crashing my back with weak, panicked punches. I hardly feel it. Too numb from her words. I march her out of her room and down the hallway. "Pl-please - please don't" she cries. What the fuck did she think I was gonna do to her?!

I reach the door I was looking for and open in, storming in and dumping her on the bed. She clambers quickly away from me, over the limbs of my pack mates. John wakes up abruptly, instantly in defense mode. She flies towards him and clings to his torso as if she fitted there all too perfectly. She is sobbing now. John growls as he blinks away sleep.

"What the fuck, Simon. What've you done..?" He looks between the sobbing mess clung to him, and me. Great, my own fuckin' Alpha thinks I've 'done' something to her.

By now Johnny and Kyle had woken up too. They move to the space between myself and the girl. Were they creating a barrier?! Didn't they trust me..? Of course they don't. You're a monster.

I sigh, feeling broken, and turn to leave the room. Christ knows where to, but I needed to disappear for a while. I'm almost out of the room. I stop when I hear her. "Si-simon..?"

I don't turn. I just face the doorway, still intending to leave.

Then the Captain speaks up "Answer her, Simon.." I sigh again.

"What?" I snap over my shoulder at her. I see her flinch, "I'm - I'm sorry.." she whines "S'fine" I grunt back, still not turning to face her.

"What happened?" Johnny asks. I don't expect to feel his hand in mine, tugging me back toward the bed. "Get off Johnny" I shake his hand away from mine, but ever persistent, he grabs at my hand again. "Si - what happened?" he asks again.

"The girl was havin' a fuckin' nightmare. Heard her screaming from the kitchen. Didn't even wake up when I banged on the door. She was hiding in her fuckin' cupboard. Didn't even lock her door".

"So.. you helped her..?" Kyle asks hesitantly "what else was I 'sposed to do? Fuckin' let her scream the place down all night?" I snap back - ok fair, that was uncalled for. I have my own fair share of nightmares. Those in glass houses 'n all that bullshit....

"S-sorry.. I didn't mean-" - "I said s'fine" I grunt at her. She hides behind John's shoulder now. She's terrified of me.

"Y/N.. what do you want to do..?" Kyle asks her "Don't want to be a-alone again.." she whimpers back at him. He strokes her cheek. Why can't I be gentle like that?

"Alpha.. can - can she stay here for tonight..?" He asks John nervously. I forgot Johnny was still holding my hand, but he squeezes it excitedly when Kyle asks if she can stay.

"Y/N.. would you feel comfortable here..? I give you my word, we will not touch you.. not hurt you..it's your choice.."

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

"Y/N.. would you feel comfortable here..? I give you my word, we will not touch you.. not hurt you..it's your choice.." The captain asks me.. I sniffle into his shoulder. His bare shoulder. "Please.. please, if it's ok - ok with everyone.." I stutter and sniff. "Shhh sweetheart, it's ok.." John reassures me, rubbing my back softly.

He lays me down between him and Kyle. I glance towards Johnny and Ghost. Johnny has finally succeeded in dragging Ghost into the bed. He is as far away from me as he can possibly be on the massive bed. Johnny snuggles up to him and rests his head against Ghost's chest. I can almost see some of the tension leave Ghost's body. I look away and roll to face Kyle. He is already looking at me as I turn around. He smiles softly down at me and whispers "you ok, love?" I nod against the pillow. He motions towards himself and as my eyes meet his motioning hand, I notice that he is also shirtless. Do none of these men wear a shirt to bed?!

I furrow my brows at his gesture "C'mere love, snuggle up to me" he chuckles. "I don't want to be a burden" I sniffle, my face still red and puffy from all of the crying. "Never, now come here" he motions towards himself again. "Gaz.. behave" John warns from his position behind me. "Behaving, sir" - "Better fuckin' be" he grumbles back. His voice was extra gravelly at this time of night. I shuffle towards Kyle and he engulfs me in his arms. He is so warm.. His scent calms me down almost immediately. I push my head so it's resting atop his chest. He slots his chin over the top of my head.

I drift off to sleep, quicker than I had for years. The last thing I feel is a strong, hairy arm wrap around both of us and pull us slightly closer.

[mamawasatesttube]

for the ficlet thing: “You're still asleep, aren't you?" (w timkon,,,yeah) :3

Muted blue-white light from the TV washes over the living room, paints the walls in dull grey as it flickers across Kon's face. Tim's head is a warm weight on his shoulder, his hair tickling slightly against Kon's neck. He dozed off a few minutes ago, breathing soft and slow as rain pelts the side of the farmhouse; it's not even late yet, but Kon knows Tim's been through a lot lately. It's good he's resting.

But he'd rest even better if they just turn off the TV and head up to bed, so. Kon could just carry him, but...

Lightning flashes outside; thunder rumbles in the distance as the house creaks in the wind. Kon stares at the window and swallows, hard.

Tim wouldn't just doze off on anyone's shoulder. Even as Robin, he preferred to curl up in weird little secluded spots, though he definitely fell asleep on Kon or Cassie a good few times. But he's gotten more guarded during the year Kon was, uh, dead, pulling into himself, pushing even Cassie away. And yet, here he is, snoozing away against Kon.

Something tightens in Kon's chest. He's been thinking a lot, lately. There's words that've been dancing on the tip of his tongue for months now, words he's kept swallowing down. Maybe he ought to finally take the plunge. Tonight feels cozy and safe, like the storm's cut them off from the outside world and all its perils and fears, and Tim is so trusting, so vulnerable in his sleep.

Kon takes a breath. Swallows hard. Breathes out.

"Hey, Rob." He gently nudges Tim, squeezes his shoulder. Fantasizes, for a moment, about skimming his hand down to the side of Tim's waist, but holds back. "You wanna call it and head up to bed?"

"Mmnh?" Tim's voice is so much softer than usual when he's sleepy. His eyelashes brush Kon's collarbone as he blinks. "Nnh, 'm awake..."

Kon's heart flip-flops in his chest. He chews at his lip. Lightning flashes in the window again, lighting up acres of farmland in a brilliant flash. Tim's hair smells like Kon's shampoo.

The words bubble up in Kon's chest and rise up his throat, and suddenly he knows if he doesn't say them now, he'll never say them at all. His heart thunders in his throat.

"Rob, I've, uh... I've been wondering something."

Tim hums against his shoulder. His fingers twitch slightly against the side of Kon's knee. "Mm?"

You don't touch most people like this, Kon wants to say. I don't let most people touch me like this. I've always been so conscious of how people see me, here in Smallville. I never knew who "Conner Kent" was before. But I never worry about any of that when you're with me. Why? What do you do to me? Do you even know you're doing it?

He doesn't say any of that. Instead, he chews at his lower lip again, staring at the TV. It's a rerun of some oldies show; Ma likes to watch 'em in the evenings sometimes.

"Before Cassie 'n' I broke up, we... talked about some stuff," Kon says haltingly. Maybe he should've taken a page outta Tim's book, written this all out before he tried to say any of it. "About, y'know. Us. What all happened while I was... gone." He can't bring himself to say dead, not to Tim.

Tim's quiet. He isn't stupid; he probably knows where Kon is going with this. He knows Kon knows there's an ocean of unspoken things between them, these days, things they both know but haven't managed to put into words. Things like why Tim tried to clone him a hundred times. Like the new colors on the Robin uniform in all the photos Kon saw from before Tim took on his new mantle. Things like...

"You and her dated for a second," Kon says, quiet. Maybe he's finally trying to cross that ocean. "She told me that she was trying to use you to see me. But that... that makes me wonder, Rob. If Cass was trying to kiss me through you, then..."

His heart is in his throat; his blood roars in his ears.

"Then what were you thinking, when you were kissing her?"

The question hangs in the air. Tim's silence is louder than the thunderstorm raging outside.

Kon stares straight ahead, suddenly terrified. Maybe he's wrong. Maybe he got it all backwards, and Tim really did just have feelings for Cassie he never acted on until Kon was out of the way, and his guilt for it was behind his intense grief for Kon. Maybe he—

Tim snores softly.

The tension pops like a bubble. Kon looks down, incredulous. "Right. Of course. You're still asleep, aren't you?" he mutters, more to himself than to Tim. He doesn't know if he's disappointed or relieved. Honestly, it's on him; he should've known better than to try and actually talk about any of it while Tim's so sleepy. He just... it just felt...

Well, it doesn't matter now. Kon blows out a deep sigh, TTKs over the TV remote, and turns it off.

"Mmph?" In the sudden quiet, Tim shifts against his side. "I'm awake, I swear..." He yawns, covering his mouth with a hand, and then lifts his head to blink blearily up at Kon. "Sorry. What were you sayin'?"

Kon shakes his head with a rueful smile. "Nothing important," he says, and ruffles Tim's hair. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed."

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 7

Eminem x FemReader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Y/N Comforts Marshall at the studio.

Tags : Fluff, Comfort

It was late and, by the time you got home, your friends were back from their date night. 

There you are ! Talia said as you walked through the door. I was about to call the police !!!

Why the hell would you call the cops ? you asked. 

Because it’s 3 AM, you were nowhere to be seen and you weren’t picking up the phone ?!  she replied in a serious tone. 

You apologized when you realized you had put your phone on silent when you were watching the movie at Marshall’s. 

Where were you anyway ? She quizzed you. 

With Marshall, you said. We watched a movie. 

Told you she was probably with him, Jamal said calmly. 

Well he didn’t pick up the phone either ! she said in an annoyed voice. 

She looked at you and a grin formed on her face. 

So… Movie night, huh ? She asked. 

Yeah, you said. Why ? 

You’re wearing his clothes, she pointed out. 

Jamal let out a laugh and you blushed in embarrassment. 

I spilled soda on mine, you replied calmly. 

Of course, Jamal said with a smirk. 

First, he gives you his necklace, then you come home wearing his stuff, she continued with a smile. 

Wait, he gave you a necklace ? Jamal asked, amused. 

Yes. His sobriety pendant, Talia explain. 

It’s a good luck charm, you pointed out. 

They hummed and smiled at you, their arms crossed. 

I knew you liked him, Jamal said with a smirk. 

Of course I like him, you said. As a friend. 

Friends don’t wear their friend’s clothes, he replied. 

Come on. I wear Talia’s clothes all the time. And she wears mine. 

And friends usually don’t give each other diamond-encrusted good luck charms, either, he continued. 

He likes you, Talia said. 

He is nice, you said as you rolled your eyes. That’s it. He wanted to wish me luck on my recovery and he didn’t want me to stay in soaking wet clothes. 

They kept on smiling. 

You had a good time, your best friend pointed out. 

I did. 

You’re smiling, Jamal continued. 

I am, you confirmed. You guys are being awfully descriptive. Is this going somewhere or can I finally go to bed ?

We haven't seen you with a smile this big since… a long time ago, he said softly. 

I smile all the time, you said. 

Not like this, Talia said. You are glowing. 

Maybe it’s the face wash I used, you shrugged in annoyance, trying not to let on. 

She got closer to you and inspected your face. Her face changed into a triumphant smile when she inhaled. 

You showered there. 

How do you even… ? you asked. 

You would never pick a bodywash with this smell. I know you too well, she said with a grin. 

Well, as I said, I spilled soda. 

Riiiight, Jamal said. Quit lying and spill the tea instead, girl. We have all night. 

You groaned. They were your best friends, but they were also the most nosey, insufferable people you knew, especially in this moment. Still, you knew better than to kiss and tell. 

Goodnight, you said firmly as you moved towards the stairs. 

Sweet dreams, Jamal said with a giggle. 

You sighed when you got back to your room and laid on the bed. It was indeed late and you were exhausted. You were about to drift off to sleep when Talia opened the door. 

What are you doing ? you asked. 

I’m here for the tea, she chuckled before closing the door and laying next to you on the bed. 

Taliaaaaaaa, you groaned. 

Please, please, please. You’re my bestie. Besties tell each other everything, right ? 

Are we back in middle-school ? You asked. 

YES. I just want to know about your night, she pleaded. Did you have a good time ? 

I did, you said with a smile. 

Em’s a great guy, she said. I knew you’d get along. 

Marshall is pretty cool, you nodded. 

Right. “Marshall”. So, what did you do ? she asked with a smile. 

We watched a movie, you said earnestly. Us. 

A horror movie !!! she shrieked. Did he reassure you ?

Who said I needed reassurance ? you asked cockily. 

Please, you’re the world’s biggest scaredy-cat, she giggled. 

He did reassure me, you said softly. But there’s nothing between us. We’re friends.

Why did you shower at his place, then ? She asked. And please, don’t say you spilled soda. Unless you spilled a whole jug, you wouldn’t need to shower. Especially if it’s just a movie night.

You sighed. She was your best friend in the world and you didn’t want to lie to her. On the other hand, you didn’t feel like telling the whole truth either. She saw you looking uneasy. 

You can tell me, she said. I promise I won’t tell Jamal. 

Fine, you sighed. 

You spilled a few details, leaving a part of the story aside. You figured she didn’t need to know about the other night. You basically just told her that you kissed and he went down on you before you took a shower and went for a drive.

That sounds like a date, she mused. 

Only, it wasn’t, you said firmly. We agreed that it’d be better if we stayed friends. We just got caught up in the moment. It’s not a big deal, though. 

Just friends ? She asked in disbelief. 

Yeah. I don’t think he likes me like that anyway, you said. 

Mmmh. I disagree but ok, she said. How do you feel ? 

Fine, you said. I mean, he’s really cool, I like hanging out with him. Friends is good. 

Whatever keeps you smiling like this, she said. I missed seeing you like that, you know ? 

Without warning, she engulfed you into a hug. She was the most affectionate person you knew. 

Thank you for everything, you whispered. 

Anytime, honey, she whispered back. Well, if you want to thank me… there is something you can do… 

What ? 

Spill the tea about Em. Is he good ? she asked cockily. 

Talia !!! 

Come on, it’s no big deal, she chuckled. Better than Simon ? 

So much better, you said with a wink. 

She squealed and clapped and, even though you were initially tired, you ended up talking until morning, like two middle-schoolers during a sleepover. 

The next day, you went to the studio after you were done with uni. It was just Marshall, Jamal, Royce and Porter. They were discussing a track. You quickly hugged everyone and sat on the couch. You hadn’t slept and you were tired. You let out an involuntary yawn.

Are you alright ? Porter asked. 

Yeah, you said. Sorry, I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept. 

Got some action last night ? Royce joked. 

You heard a shrieking noise coming from Jamal, who was trying to fake a cough to hide it. You shot him a death glare. 

Yeah. Talia was in my room all night, you said with a mean smile. Had to give the poor woman something. 

You’re such a bitch, Jamal said with a laugh. 

Marshall looked at you with an amused smile and shook his head. He silently mouthed a “Thank you” and winked. You hoped Jamal hadn’t made any comment or grilled him with questions. Eventually, the guys stopped working and Marshall came to sit beside you while Porter, Royce and Jamal went to get something to drink. 

I have something for you, he said with a smile. 

You do ? you asked. 

Yes. I made you a playlist, he explained. Your very own beginner’s guide to hip-hop. I selected some tracks for you to listen to. There's 2Pac, LL Cool J, Beastie Boys, Wu Tang… That’ll be a good start. 

Thank you ! When did you have time to put that together ? You asked. 

You’re not the only one who had a sleepless night, he chuckled. Spent hours trying to clean the damn couch. 

You chortled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He looked at you with a smirk. 

Anyway, by the time I was done, it was either an hour of sleep or working on your playlist. And I do better on no sleep than one hour, he chuckled. So there you go ! 

He handed you a small USB device. 

You know people use Spotify and Apple Music these days, right ? You joked. 

The only reason it’s not a CD is because I’m pretty sure you don’t have a player, he replied with a smirk. 

It’s true, I don’t, you chuckled. 

It’s a shame, he said as he shook his head. You’ll never know how great it was, when you had something physical to hold on to, with music. 

I’m not twelve, Marshall, you said with a laugh. I had a few CDs in my day. But yeah, that was short-lived. 

What was the first CD you bought ? he asked. 

You don’t want to know. 

Come on, he said. I won’t judge. 

Britney Spears, In the Zone, you said. 

Ok, I’m judging a little, he admitted with a grin. 

You chuckled and grabbed your laptop, inserting the device, saving the tracks in your playlist. 

Do you want me to make you a playlist in return ? You joked. 

I don’t trust your music taste, he grinned. But you know what ? Sure. Though I should tell you hip-hop isn’t the only thing I listen to. So make it interesting, ok ?

You nodded and placed the usb key in your bag. You pressed play on your computer and listened to the first song which was Keep Ya Head Up, by 2Pac. As the first notes played, Marshall immediately took your computer. 

Nope, nope, nope, he said as he shook his head. 

What’s wrong ? You asked, visibly confused. 

I’m not having you listen to great music on shitty computer speakers, he explained. 

He got up and picked a set of Beats headphones. 

I could have used my headphones, you chuckled. 

Those flimsy things ? Yeah, don’t bother, he grinned. 

Snob, you said as you rolled his eyes. 

You connected the Beats set to your computer and placed them on your head. 

That’s better, you admitted. The sound is great !!! 

I know, right ? He replied. You can keep those, by the way. 

The others came back and resumed their conversation with Marshall, who threw glances at you as if to watch your reaction to the playlist. You smiled and closed your eyes to focus on the music. Before you knew it, you drifted off to sleep. 

When you woke up, the room was dark and silent. You were laying on the couch, Marshall’s jacket placed on you. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you weren’t exactly surprised. You were exhausted. Your eyes scoured the room, searching for the others but they were nowhere to be seen. You got up and went to the lobby, where you found Marshall playing one of the arcade games. 

Hey sleepyhead, he said without looking at you, absorbed by the game. 

Hey, you said as you rubbed your eyes and tried to get used to the sudden light. 

After losing his game and grunting, he turned to you. He seemed exhausted and you figured that he wasn’t any better at dealing with the lack of sleep than you were. 

What time is it ? You asked. 

About 11PM, he replied.

Where are the others ? 

They went home a while ago. I told Jamal not to wake you up, he explained. I figured you needed the sleep. 

Thanks. Were you waiting for me to wake up ? you asked. 

Yeah, he said. 

You didn’t have to, you said as you shook your head. You look tired. 

It’s fine, he assured you. I just finished working anyway. 

This late ? 

Yeah, he mumbled. 

He groaned and stretched his back. 

Is something wrong ? You asked. 

Yeah. No. I don’t know, he sighed. 

Want to talk about it ? You offered. 

He stared at you for a few seconds and shrugged. 

Paul called me a few hours ago. We’re having a few issues with sample clearing, he said. 

What’s that ? 

When you want to sample someone’s work you need to get permission, he explained. Basically, you have to ask the copyright’s owners. 

Ok, you said as you took in the information. So ? What’s the issue ? 

So, anyway, there was this song we recorded a while ago and I felt pretty good about it. Loved everything about it, really. Some of the guys even said it’s one of my best. 

Yes ? You asked, not really getting it. 

Well the copyright’s owners - not even the artist, but their heirs - don’t want me to use it, he said in an annoyed tone. 

They don’t like what you did ? 

Nooo, better than that, he said with a sarcastic laugh. They say they like it, but they don’t want me to use it. Because I’m Eminem. 

You looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate. 

They like it but they don’t like… you ? you said. 

Exactly. Apparently, they think I’m too homophobic and misogynistic, he groaned. Like… what the fuck ?! 

What ? 

You know what’s fucking frustrating ?! he continued. The track is clean. Like, actually clean. Barely any swear words. No slurs. No killing anyone. No violence or shit. But because some people portrayed me as homophobic three lifetimes ago, they don’t want me to use the work. 

That’s unfair, you said. 

You think ?! 

He groaned and punched the nearest wall. It was the first time you saw him angry. In the past months, you’d seen a lot of his emotions, but never anger. This sudden burst of rage startled you. You stared at him, unable to say anything. After a few seconds, he seemed to notice it and his face softened a bit. 

Sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to scare you, he said softly. I’m just… fucking frustrated. 

It’s ok, you replied. I can tell the track means a lot to you. 

It does, he said, but it’s not just that, you know ? It’s the way some people think about me. I usually don’t care, because I figure that, if they don’t like my music, all they have to do is not play it. I’m not offended by that. Not everyone will like me and that’s ok. But this… it’s worse because it’s preventing me from making music. You know what I’m saying ? I wanted that shit on the album.

You hummed and gently rubbed his shoulder. He gently leaned into your touch. 

There’s no way you can persuade them to change their mind ? You asked. 

Don’t think so, he said. I mean, if it were me, and I thought someone homophobic, racist or whatever wanted to use my work, I’d probably say no too, you know ? But…

But you’re not like that, so that’s even more frustrating, you continued. 

...Yeah. 

He sighed. You could see some genuine disappointment in his face. 

As I said, I usually don’t care about this type of rumors or public perception or whatever you want to call it. But music… that’s the most important thing to me, you know ? That’s all I want to do, all I care about. Music. 

You nodded and gently wrapped your arms around him. He returned the embrace. 

Thanks, he whispered. Sorry for being grumpy. 

I wish I could do something, you said. 

This is good, he said softly. 

He rested his chin on the top of your head. You mindlessly ran your hands in his back, in an attempt to soothe and comfort him. 

I like that, he said in a sleepy voice. 

You know what I think you’d like even more ? you asked as you smiled against his chest. 

You’re not going to start teasing me, are you ? he asked with a small groan. 

No, you idiot, you giggled. I was thinking about sleep. 

I would like that, he said. 

I’ll get my things and call a cab. 

No need for a cab. I’ll take you home, he said. 

Ok, you whispered. 

You both grabbed your things and he took you home. 

Thanks for taking me home, you said. And allowing me to rest at the studio. 

Thanks for comforting me, he replied with a smile. 

Anytime, you said softly. 

Sorry you had to see me all grumpy… 

It’s ok, you said. You have the right to be sad, hurt and whatever, you know ? 

He shrugged and nodded quietly. 

For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing. And I’m sure that, if these people met you for even 10 minutes, they’d be honored to have you sample their stuff, you added before planting a kiss on his cheek. 

You think ? 

Of course, you said with a smile. You’re the kindest and funniest person I’ve met. 

Sexiest, too, right ? He asked with a smirk. 

I used to find you attractive, you said with a smile. But then you showed me those awful pictures of you in the 90s. Now I can’t unsee it. 

He let out a laugh and rolled his eyes. 

I’m glad we’re friends, he said with a smile. You know… I don’t have a lot of people who comfort me the way you do. 

Me too, you said softly. I’ll always be there if you need comfort, you know ? 

You hugged him one last time and he planted a kiss on the top of your head. As soon as you entered the house, you grabbed your phone and checked your messages. Your heart pounded in your chest when you saw a very familiar name on the screen.

[moralesmilesanhour]

Hi, hope you're doing well. I was hoping to request Earth 42! Miles with a SO that's really into art. Like fashion and films and literature and all that and knows a lot about art history.

Hell yeah! (I'm an art history major and my mom did fashion design so I got rlly excited at this)

Warning: vague spoilers for 'NOPE' (2022) if anyone cares about those lmao

"...Do you need sumn?"

Miles gave you a weird look. You had been looking him up and down for the past ten minutes, and not in the good way. Your eyes narrowed.

"Your 'fit is bothering me."

The fit in question? A sleek, structured leather jacket paired with swampy-green basketball shorts. The horror.

Miles looked down, then looked at your own monochromatic ensemble as you stood with your arms crossed. Somehow you had made a large belt with a blue tracksuit make sense. Clearly you knew something he didn't.

He tilted his head in curiosity. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's..." your made wild gestures with your hands, "...the silhouette. I don't like that jacket with the shorts, it creates a weird shape to me."

Miles blinked. "I don't follow."

You shook your head, "Just lemme getchu a different pair of pants."

As you threw open and rummaged through your closet, the boy sighed.

"I'm not wearing any of them tight ass skinny jeans."

"I know, that's not what I'm looking for...ah! These could work!"

Miles yelped as he dodged the two folded pairs of jeans you tossed at him.

You turned and pointed him towards the bathroom.

"Try em' on, 'cuz we not going out with you looking like this. Claro?

"Claro," Miles grinned with his hands raised in surrender before making a beeline for the door.

He made no attempt to defend his sense of fashion because, frankly, it was funnier when he let you rant about color combinations and "silhouettes". And he got free stuff out of it.

Miles re-entered not more than five minutes later, shifting uncomfortably in a pair of faded bell-bottoms.

You clapped your hands together excitedly.

"That's so cute!"

The boy's upper lip curled up in distaste, and your face fell.

"You don't like 'em?"

"Yeah, not happening."

"Ugh, fine. Lemme see the other ones, then."

Another trip to the bathroom, and Miles returned in a pair of boot-cut jeans of a much darker wash. The way he leaned against the door frame told you that he was far more satisfied with these. You nodded in approval.

"You need some boots with those," you said, visualizing the ensemble in your head.

The grin on Miles' face immediately dropped at the word 'boots'.

"Absolutely not."

"Come on! They're called 'boot cut' for a reason!"

"The converses stay. Those are off-limits."

He crossed his arms, and you relented.

"Fine. You're so boring."

"I'll be that," Miles shrugged. "Movie starts in fifteen. Let's bounce."

-

You smacked your boyfriend in the arm as you exited the theater.

"You fell asleep?!?"

"I'm sorry, okay? They took mad long to show the alien!"

"To show the--that's not even the point of the movie!"

Your arms had begun to flail around, and it was taking all of the strength Miles could muster not to laugh.

"Cálmate," he gently brought your arm down before taking your hand. "Tell me everything you liked about it at my place."

"Don't tell me to 'calm down'," you muttered.

-

"So?" Miles plopped down on his mattress, patting a spot next to him. "What happened while I was knocked out?"

You rolled your eyes, but sat down anyway.

"So like, the whole thing's about spectacle, right?"

"M-hm."

"So they get the weird film director guy to help them film the alien, 'cuz OJ figured out that the alien is a animal, like a horse. Then this guy from TMZ comes and puts his life in danger tryna get footage..."

Miles rested his chin in his palm as he watched your eyes light up.

"...Miles, are you listening? And then she did the motorcycle maneuver from 'Akira'!"

"Yeah, I'm listening. Still need to watch that one."

"...then the movie ends with the sister about to get swarmed by reporters, 'cuz the whole point is that, like, everyone's just tryna make money off of the story even though people literally died."

The boy leaned in and pecked you on the cheek. "Very succinct analysis. Now can we play some UNO?"

-

Miles shoved his cold hands into his pockets and shifted from one foot to another. You gazed into the painted-on eyes of the ancient African headdress encased in a cube of glass.

"Look, Miles! Cool right?"

He snorted, "Looks like one of your wig heads."

"It's bad bitches in every time period," you parried back. "You like that one?"

Miles had moved to your right to get into a staring contest with a mask in a similar display case. It was round with prominent, low cheekbones and jagged fangs to complete its frightening expression.

"Yeah, this shit hard. Can we take pictures in here?"

"Yup. It's a Sachihongo mask. Mbunda style."

He took out his phone and snapped a photo; He had that look in his eyes that he got when he was about to build something for the robotics club. Miles smirked.

"I think this is my favorite section."

-

This was fun to write! Made me wanna hop on a train and visit the MET again sdfghjk I just had to scroll through they website to make sure my descriptions were accurate. Thanks for requesting!

[sometimesiwritethingsilike]

For the person that requested a mini-fic of Joel feeding his family. Once again I'm incapable of sticking to a short format 😊

Featuring: softness, cooking, some Joel whump, the Dynamic Duo of Ellie and Tommy, cuddling, Joel being taken care of, and a Miller Williams sandwich.

— — —

“Go on, get some rest. I got ‘em.” 

Tommy mumbles something but he’s already laying down, following Joel’s guiding hand on his shoulder. Ellie grabs a blanket and drapes it over Tommy. Joel thanks her with a kiss on her head and then he’s off to the kitchen. Ellie lingers, touching the pen in her pocket, wondering if she has enough time to draw something on Tommy before Joel notices she didn't follow him—

“Ellie.” 

Ellie rolls her eyes and leaves Tommy to sleep, going to the kitchen where Joel has strapped the twins into their high chairs. 

“You got x-ray vision old man?” 

“Yeah. Comes with bein’ a parent,” Joel gives her a conspiratory grin and nods towards a drawer, “‘sides, Maria’s got some permanent markers in there.” 

Ellie giggles. She watches Joel feed the twins, hands steady and gentle with each spoonful. 

“You wanna help?” 

Ellie steps up, trepidation humming in her chest. She’s never had cousins and she doesn’t want to fuck it up. But she copies Joel’s every move and soon Leon is happily eating from the spoon she lifts to his mouth. 

— — —

Ellie watches Joel cook, her notebook spread out on one corner of the kitchen island she and Joel built together. He’s making chicken, quinoa, and green onion croquettes, shaping them into fat ovals by hand. As she brainstorms ideas for the school science fair, she idly traces the J.M. and E.W.M. she and Joel carved on the butcher block prior to sealing the wood.  She loves evenings like these, where they can both do their thing in close proximity, sharing each other’s presence. 

There’s a series of knocks at the door; two quick raps followed by a long one. Tommy strolls into the kitchen seconds later, dropping a kiss on Ellie’s head in greeting. Most of the time he stops by a few minutes before dinner just to mess with Joel — he’ll flick the lights, untie Joel’s apron, slide the spice jars just a few inches out of reach. Today he has eyes only for the freshly fried croquettes.

“Smells good hermano. Gimme a taste?” 

Joel breaks a piece off one croquette and pops it into Tommy’s mouth. Ellie laughs, curious, amused, 

“Gotta get fed like a baby Tommy?”

Tommy just grins at her, not the least bit embarrassed. “No need to be a jealous jelly just cause I got to try some and you didn’t.” 

Ellie deliberately reaches over and plucks a croquette off the drying rack and stuffs it into her mouth. Tommy laughs. 

“Alright, go wash up you two,” Joel interrupts, turning to fry up the last of the food, “Maria’ll by soon and we can eat.” 

Tommy makes sure to lean towards Joel’s good ear before he loudly says, “Yes chef!”  

— — —

The thing is, maybe Ellie is a little jealous. She watches Joel feed Tommy and vice versa a few more times over the following weeks. Neither man makes a big deal out of it and she infers that the action has nothing to do with age or ability but everything to do with familiarity, intimacy, love. Culture too, she knows, from subtly questioning Maria. And, she reasons, the five years between them would’ve made Joel old enough to help feed Tommy as a toddler. Still, she can’t help but feel a little left out. 

But as amazing as Joel is, he’s not a mind reader. So if she wants in on this particular Miller custom, she’s going to have to ask for it. 

She works up the courage on a warm Saturday afternoon when Joel is making her favorite — empanadas. She doesn’t even pretend to read her book, joining in on the preparation instead, which never fails to make Joel smile. She waits until he’s fried the second batch and the first has cooled and drained enough to be ready. Then she nudges him, looks up at him, and borrows Tommy’s words, 

“Give me a taste?” 

Joel’s eyes are suspiciously shiny as he breaks a piece off an empanada and feeds it to her. 

— — —

It becomes almost unconscious as the days and weeks go by. Ellie and Tommy turn it into a competition, where they encourage Joel to throw bits of food up into the air so they can catch it in their mouths. Joel resists at first, warning them they’re gonna choke, but he gives in to their combined pressure. 

There’s a point too, when Ellie is helping Tommy in his garden, that she asks him for a taste of the fresh grape tomatoes they’ve just picked and rinsed. Tommy obliges with the same awestruck look Joel had the first time and Ellie calls him dramatic as she wraps him in a hug. 

— — —

Ellie wakes to the sound of the shower running, which wouldn’t be an issue if it wasn’t two in the morning. She’s up and out of bed in an instant, warning bells going off in her head. Light spills out from under the bathroom door, bright in the dark hallway. She knocks on the door. 

“Joel?”

No response. She gives it a couple of seconds before she opens the door only to be greeted by thick, warm steam. Joel’s sitting on the edge of the tub, massaging the sides of his head along his sinuses. His hands are shaking. 

Ellie does her best to swallow her worry. 

“It’s a little early for a sauna experience isn’t it?” 

Joel finally notices her. He looks tired and scared. Ellie immediately closes the space between them and puts her hands on his shoulders, making sure he really is present and seeing her before she moves them up to cradle his cheeks. He’s warm, even more than could be explained by sitting in the small bathroom with the hot water running. 

A flu’s been going around Jackson, taking people down left and right. It seems like it finally caught up to Joel. Ellie winces, guilt sour in her stomach — she’d had it last week, had she given it to him?  

“’M alright baby girl. Go back to bed.” 

Joel had taken care of her day and night, made her his mom’s caldo de pollo, a delicious soup that had been the only thing she’d been able to stomach. Like hell is she leaving him to his own devices now. 

“You’re way too smart to think I’m just leaving you like this.”

“Ellie—”

“I’ll be right back okay?” 

And before he can argue any further, she plants a kiss on his forehead and rushes out of the bathroom. 

Getting Tommy is easy. Since becoming a father he's been a light sleeper and he answers his door well before Ellie thinks to use her spare key to go inside and wake him. He follows her back to her and Joel’s place, getting ahead of her on the stairs due to his longer stride. He gets Joel up with some fuss and Ellie leaves them to it when Tommy announces Joel’s damp pajamas have to go. 

Ellie heads back downstairs and beelines straight to the fridge. Thankfully, there’s still some caldo left. She pours the soup into a saucepan and starts heating it on the stove. 

Tommy comes downstairs about fifteen minutes later, exasperation and sadness on his face. For a moment it looks like he's debating what to tell her but a fierce glare from her gets him to spill the full story. How Joel had been feeling off the last couple of days (which they both know is likely an underestimation) and how he'd woken in the middle of the night feeling so horribly congested he’d thought he’d lost his hearing entirely.

Ellie wonders how long he sat there feeling terrified and finds her hands curling into fists. Anger is easier to hold onto than heartbreak. 

“Why couldn’t he just say he was feeling like shit?” She asks. 

“It’s got nothin’ to do with us, Ellie.” Tommy answers, cutting through to what she really wants to know in that way she always finds annoying, “He’s had to carry a lot on his shoulders. A lot to swallow up and go through alone. Long before you came along and before I was old enough to notice. It ain’t fair to any of us, him included, but we can help him see there’s a better way of doing things now.”

Ellie takes this in. It makes sense, but she doesn't have to like it.

“So are you saving your lecture for when he gets better? Cause I have a bunch of things I want to add.”

“Oh yeah, he’s in for a good one, don’t you worry. I’m gonna use his full name too, just like our mama used to.” 

Tommy pulls her into a hug and Ellie squeezes tight, hoping it gets across how desperately grateful she is he’s there and taking care of Joel isn't all on her. Tommy drops a kiss on her head. 

They go back upstairs, Ellie carrying Joel’s favorite soup mug with the hot caldo and Tommy holding a glass of orange juice. 

Joel is in his bed, hair fluffy from running a towel through it. To Ellie’s relief, he’s entirely alert and looking much better. Good enough to at least appear sheepish, if not a little embarrassed at what he no doubt thinks is excessive fussing on their part. 

“Alright, you got two choices now — caldo or OJ.” 

“And I don’t mind spoon feeding you,” Ellie adds, squaring up next to Tommy, “I have plenty of practice.”

Joel’s eyes narrow, “Since when’d you two get so chummy?”

“Carin’ for the same idiot brings people together like you wouldn’t believe.”

Joel realizes he’s fighting a losing battle. “Fine. Gimme the soup.” 

Ellie passes over the mug. Joel makes it through most of it before he holds it back out to her, too tired to continue. Ellie sets it on the nightstand before flopping onto the bed to the right of him, making it clear she has no intention of leaving. Joel just rolls his eyes but he can’t hide his smile as he settles in around her like usual. 

Tommy turns off the lamp but he makes no move to leave. Instead, he pushes at Joel's shoulder. 

“Scoot over.”

“Tommy, what the hell—”

Tommy simply makes space for himself on Joel’s left while Ellie tries to muffle her laughter against the pillow. 

“Tommy you got someone to cuddle with. She’s probably waitin’ for you. In your own damn house.” 

“And miss this chance to be the big spoon? No way. Now hush up and enjoy your time in this wonderful Miller Williams sandwich.” 

Joel grumbles some more but he makes no move to escape them.

“Hey Tommy, why didn’t the sick person get the joke?” 

“Why?”

“Because it flu over his head.” 

Tommy chuckles. 

“Hey Ellie.”

“Yeah?”

“I too have a joke about the flu. But I hope you don’t get it.”  

Ellie and Tommy laugh together. Joel holds out for a few more seconds before he joins in. 

"Jesus you two are a goddamn menace."

"You wouldn't have it any other way, big brother."

Joel pulls both of them closer. "Damn straight."

Ellie can’t help herself, "Hey. I'm right here."

And that sets them all off again.

[ambrossart]

Bad Omens

summary: after experiencing the most unlucky morning of his life, eddie is convinced that doom is on the horizon. all his friends think he's just being paranoid, but then jeff receives an unexpected request from you, eddie's little harbinger of misfortune.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 4,633 warnings: middle school, young!eddie, insecure!eddie, language, bullying, teasing, secret crushes, the unnamed freak is named grant in this series

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

It was a dull, dreary, rainy morning for all the students hanging out in the Hawkins Middle School cafeteria. They sat in small, quiet clusters around the room, eating, talking, scrambling to finish last night’s homework. Jeff was part of the latter group, and like everyone else, he was having a hard time staying awake. 

While the rain pattered softly against the window, he sat slumped over the table with his chin on his wrist, struggling to resist sleep’s sweet siren song. His social studies book lay in front of him, open to his current reading assignment: something about the Incas or the Mayans (Jeff couldn’t keep them straight and, this late in the school year, he didn’t have the motivation to care). He kept reading the same sentence over and over, but the words always got lost in the fog of his thoughts. His eyes, listless and heavy-lidded, blurred with tears every time he—

Another yawn snuck up on him, threatening to split his mouth wide open. Jeff raised his head and surrendered to it, let it wash over him and then drift away, leaving little pools of moisture in the corners of his tired eyes. He wiped them away with his sleeve, put his chin down, and went back to reading.

“Dude, you gotta stop yawning,” Grant said. Then he let out a big yawn of his own.

He was slicing through the school’s frozen waffles with a fork. Inside the other compartments of his tray were two greasy sausage links, a cup of assorted fruit, and two cartons of milk. Grant always bought an extra milk because one was never enough. 

“They’re too small,” he would say. “You finish one before you’re even halfway done with your food.” 

“Boy, this is riveting stuff,” Scottie would answer. “Now, Grant, how ‘bout you share with us your thoughts on the basic four food groups? For instance, should fruits and vegetables really be grouped together?”

Then someone, usually Eddie, would tell Scottie to shut up, and that would be the end of it. 

“God, these are awful,” Grant was saying now, while he stuffed a waffle square into his mouth and forced himself to chew. “Just look at ‘em. Pale, lifeless, cold in the middle. It’s like they have no pride in their product.” 

“And yet you keep eating it,” Scottie said while he doodled in his notebook. “See, Grant? You’re part of the problem.” 

“I have to,” Grant answered with a shrug. “You know I can’t go to class on an empty stomach. When I get hungry, my stomach growls really, really loud, and I’ve got a test coming up. Can you imagine what it’ll sound like in a room that quiet? Everyone will hear it and they’ll know it came from me. I can’t handle that kinda stress.”

Scottie’s doodling hand slowed. He stared at Grant with bored, blinking eyes. 

Then he said, “I keep going back to the tombs. I feel like the tombs are crucial.” 

Jeff lifted his chin off his wrist. “What?” 

“He’s talking about his campaign.” 

“Oh.” 

Shocker. Scottie was always talking about his campaign. 

“I still haven’t come up with a name for it,” Scottie said. “So far, I’ve got Into the Delves, The Delves of Dunmar, The Delves of Dunland, Digging in the Delves, Digging in the Dark Delves…” 

“Why are you so stuck on ‘delves’?” Jeff asked. 

“I dunno, I just like the way it sounds.” 

“Yeah, but I thought it was about a tomb.”

“Well, what’s a delve?” 

“It’s not a tomb! A delve is like a cave or something.”

“A hollow,” said Grant, “or a pit… a grotto.” 

“It’s also a verb, which means ‘to dig,’ which would make half those titles kinda redundant.”

Scottie’s shoulder sank. “Well, shit,” he said. “Now I’m back to square one.”

He tore out the page and crumpled it up. 

“Hey, where’s Munson? He usually comes in hot with all kinds of weird ideas. They’re usually shit, but sometimes there’s a little diamond hiding in there, and I pluck it out and shine it up real pretty until it glows into a sparkling, wonderful idea.” 

Jeff cracked a smirk. “You’re like Rumpelstiltskin spinning straw into gold.” 

Scottie squinted at him. “Rumple who?” 

“Rumpelstiltskin. It’s a German fairytale. Sorry, my lab partner got her hands on a book of Grimm fairytales and now she’s like Mother Goose. She brings them to class and reads me her favorite ones. Except these aren’t nice, happy fairytales. These are like weird and creepy. Like in one, this girl gets kidnapped by a rabbit or something and is forced to marry him.” 

“Oh, ‘The Hare’s Bride,’” said Grant. “That’s a good one.” 

“You know it?” 

“I know a lot of things I shouldn’t.” 

Scottie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Grant, you’re just a well of knowledge. A giant, giant well.”  

Grant ignored him and went on talking: “I thought she was into Lovecraft.”

“No, that was last month, thank God. I’m so glad that phase is over. Those stories are the stuff of nightmares.”

“Speaking of nightmares,” Scottie said. “Did anyone else get a weird call from Gareth last night?” 

Jeff and Grant shook their heads. 

“Well, he called me at like eleven o’clock ranting about the Antichrist and the end of the world. It took me a while to decipher what he was actually saying, but I guess he was watching The Omen last night, and a bird flew into his window and broke its neck, so naturally he started freaking out, like Gareth always does, and the whole time I was thinking, Dude, this why your mommy doesn’t let you watch horror movies. The kid just can’t handle ‘em.” 

“Weird,” Grant said. Then he perked up and said, “Hey, here comes Eddie!” 

Their friend had come gusting in from the rain and was now trudging through the cafeteria, stomping muddy shoeprints all over the tile. He had yet to draw back the hood of his black sweatshirt, which to the rest of the students, gave him a striking (and amusing) resemblance to the Grim Reaper. Some of them snickered as he passed. One girl cupped her hand over her mouth and said to her friend, “Go back to the graveyard, Eddie Munster,” and the girls tittered hysterically while clinging to each other. Eddie pretended like he couldn’t hear them, but he could. He always could. 

He threw his backpack to the floor, ripped off his hood, and slammed both his hands onto the table. 

“Guys, something horrible’s about to happen.” 

“Yes!” Scottie said, pumping his fists excitedly. “Let’s fucking go! You’re all worked up. You’ve got that crazy intensity in your eyes. This is gonna be just what I need. Hold on, lemme get a new page ready. Make sure my pen has plenty of ink.” He scribbled with his pen, gave a satisfied nod, and settled back into his seat. “All right, gimme some straw, Rumpleskillskin.” 

A deep crease formed between Eddie’s brows. “What’s he talking about?” 

“Just ignore him,” Jeff said. He closed his social studies book and gave Eddie his full attention. “What happened, man?”

Eddie pulled out a chair, sat down, and dragged his fingers through his damp hair. “Okay, so last night I woke up with this horrible and just uneasy feeling, y’know? It was like this massive weight was just sitting on top of my chest. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. It was fucking terrifying.” 

“What, you mean like sleep paralysis?” Scottie said. “Was a demon sitting on your chest, like in that…? Wait, what’s that painting again?” 

“The Nightmare,” Grant said. 

Scottie snapped his fingers at him. “Yes, thank you! ‘The Nightmare.’ Is that what you had, Munson? Did you have a little nighttime visitor? Did it whisper to you in the dark? Did it tell you secrets about the afterlife? Or maybe, you know, give you ideas for my campaign?” 

“Oh, would you stop?” Jeff said to him, and Scottie threw up his hands, as if to say, What? I’m desperate! 

“Keep going, Eddie. You woke up with a really bad feeling. What happened after that?”

“Okay, so while I was laying there, I thought back to what Gareth said earlier. Did you guys know a bird flew into his window last night?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Scottie threw down his pen in frustration. “That’s what this is about? The fucking Omen? Eddie, relax, the Antichrist isn’t coming, okay? You and Gareth just have overactive imaginations and like to drive each other crazy with your paranoia. You guys need to go outside and get some fresh air every once in a while.” 

“What?” Eddie said. “I’m not talking about the Antichrist! Look, something bad’s gonna happen, you guys. I can feel it. And right now I’m having the worst day of my life. My alarm didn’t go off this morning, so I was running really fucking late. The roof started leaking from all the rain, and everything on my desk got drenched. My books. My homework. Everything. It’s all just ruined, so I dunno what I’m gonna do about that. Then the chain came off my bike while I was riding to school, and I crashed face-first into a puddle of muddy water. It was disgusting and I think I swallowed some of it. I had to walk my bike the rest of the way, and who did I see as soon as I got to school? Her. Because, of course, I would see her on the worst morning of my life. I see her every other morning, why would today be any different? She was just sitting on the steps with a book on her lap. I swear, it was like she was waiting for me or something. She smiled that smile and giggled that giggle, and she said, ‘Rough day, huh, Mudson?’” 

Scottie stifled a laugh. “She called you ‘Mudson’? Okay, that’s actually kinda clever.”

“It’s not clever,” Eddie said. “It’s not funny. It’s not cute. Y’know Gareth’s all worried about the Antichrist, but… as far as I’m concerned, the Antichrist is already here, and her name is—” 

“She’s not the Antichrist,” Jeff said. “Now you’re just being overdramatic.”

“Yeah, well, her giggle signals doom, so…” 

Scottie said, “What, is she like a banshee or something?” and his eyes lit up. “Oh, a banshee, I like that. A banshee wailing in the dark. Shrieking… shrieking… Yes, I’m starting to feel it now. There’s definitely something there.” 

He put his pen to the paper and tuned everyone else out. Meanwhile, Jeff leaned back in his chair and gave a solemn nod.

“Okay, Eddie, you had a bad morning, I’ll give you that, but that’s all it was, man. A bad morning. It doesn’t mean something horrible’s about to happen to you.” 

“Yeah,” Grant said. “I mean, there’s a logical explanation for most of that stuff. Like your alarm not going off? You probably lost power at some point last night. The leak in your roof? Well, dude, you live in an old trailer and it was raining pretty hard last night. Leaks like that are bound to happen. It sucks, but it’s really not that weird. And chains come off bikes all the time. Same thing happened to me last month. As for your little doom-giggler, well… that girl’s always giggling at you.” 

“Exactly,” Scottie said as he put down his pen. “She’s just your little heckler, Munson. Just a sweet little sixth-grader that likes to watch you squirm. God, I’d love to meet this girl. I wanna go up to her and shake her hand and thank her for giving me so much entertainment this year. I’m really gonna miss her.” 

“Shut up,” Eddie said. He leaned onto his forearms and went quiet, simmering in his thoughts. 

“Feel better?” Grant asked after a minute. 

“No.” 

“Well, have a fruit cup.” 

Grant plucked his cup off his tray and set it down in front of him. 

“Thanks,” Eddie said, and Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Hey, relax, man. Try to look on the bright side. School’s almost out, summer vacation’s coming up, and we’ve got three months of D&D to look forward to. Scottie says this campaign’s gonna be the best one yet.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie muttered. He stuck his fingers into the cup and felt something wet slap the top of his hand. 

It was an orange wedge.

“What the fuck?” 

He drew back just as a second wedge came skipping across the table. It landed beside Grant’s breakfast tray. Then a third bounced off the side of Jeff’s head—“Ow!”—and plopped onto Scottie’s notebook.

“What, is it raining oranges now?” Scottie made a sickened face and flicked it away. “Is this part of your apocalypse, Eddie?” 

“No, I dunno what this is.” Eddie turned his head and—“God dammit!” 

Andy Hauffman and Clay Howard were sitting a few tables over and throwing orange wedges at them. Andy said, “Thought you could use some vitamin C, Munster!” and fired another one. It clipped Eddie on the shoulder and left a wet mark on his sweater. 

Jeff ducked down and said, “Wait, why do they think Eddie needs vitamin C?”

Scottie shrugged. “Because they wanna boost his immune system?” 

Grant sighed. An orange landed on his thigh. “They mean vitamin D.” 

“Oh,” Scottie said. “See, that makes more sense, because Eddie’s so pale and hates the sun.”

“I don’t hate the sun!” Eddie said, and winced as the next wedge gave him a big kiss on the cheek. He wiped the wetness away with his hand while Clay gave Andy a high five and said, “Nice one, dude!”

Eddie turned around and glared at them. Clay just laughed and chucked another one. Eddie swung his hand at it, missed, and got hit anyway. After that, he finally gave up and put his head down on the table. “I fucking hate this school.” 

“Dude, just ignore them,” Scottie said. “They’re idiots, man. They can’t even insult you properly. Besides, you should consider yourself lucky they only throw fruit at you. Last week, they depantsed me and shoved me into the girls’ locker room. I’ve never heard so many girls laugh in my life. They’d never do that to you, though, ‘cause they’re too scared you might bring a knife to school and stab them.” 

A stunned silence consumed the table. Jeff had his hand pressed to his forehead. Grant froze in mid-drink. An orange wedge struck his cheek and made it jiggle. 

“Hey—” Jeff began in a low voice. 

Eddie pushed himself to his feet, yanked his backpack off the floor, and stormed out of the cafeteria. 

“Oh, come on, Munson,” Scottie said as he went by. “It’s funny ‘cause your dad’s in prison! Everyone thinks you’re gonna shank someone. Oh god, there he goes again… off to find a dark corner to brood in… Poor, Eddie, nobody understands you, waah, waah, waah.”

“Dude,” Jeff said. “Enough.” 

“What?” Scottie said. “I’m just trying to toughen the guy up a little. If he thinks middle school’s bad, high school’s gonna be a nightmare for him. What, does he think people are suddenly gonna stop thinking he’s trailer trash? I had a stutter when I was six and they still call me ‘Suh-Suh-Sloman.’ Kids suck. They’re always gonna suck. He needs to accept that and move on.”

Scottie picked up his pen, put it back to the paper, and sighed. 

“I went too far, didn’t I? Oh shit… I’ll make it up to him later.” 

Grant finished his breakfast in silence. Jeff opened his textbook and returned to his reading assignment. 

“You know what, though,” Scottie said after a while, “I kinda know what he’s talking about. There’s something in the air today. I dunno how to describe it. It’s like electric or something. I can feel it pulsing through my veins. Yeah, I think something really exciting’s about to happen, you guys.” 

Jeff hadn’t given much thought to what Scottie had said, not until he sat down in his fourth-period science class. 

It was the strangest thing. As soon as his back pressed against the cold metal chair, a tingle ran up his spine and made all the little hairs on his arm stand on end. Electric, he thought, and immediately shoved the thought away. Come on, get ahold of yourself, Jeff. He wasn’t about to get all worked up over some silly superstition. 

At eleven-o-one, the door swung open and you walked into the science lab, your nose wrinkling instantly from the sharp lemon scent of disinfectant. 

Oh good, Jeff thought. A weird, whimsical story from you was sure to mend his frayed nerves. All right, Mother Goose, what creepy tale do you have for me today?

You slid into the chair beside him, laid all your materials on the table, and said… nothing, absolutely nothing. This morning, you were oddly quiet. Disturbingly quiet. Instead of gushing about your latest obsession, you were staring at the empty chalkboard and tugging at your sweater sleeve. This made Jeff a little anxious. 

“No stories for me today?” 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Hm? Oh, uhh, no… not today.” 

The book of Grimm fairytales lay on top of your notebook, its cover lightly speckled from the rain. How long did you sit out there waiting for him? Jeff wondered. Ten minutes? Twenty? He could almost picture it: you sitting out in the cold, barely sheltered from the rain, huddled over your book, frowning miserably, trying to stay warm, trying to read, stopping every other sentence to look up and see if Eddie had arrived yet. Man, say what you want about her, but you gotta admire the girl’s commitment.

With this in mind, Jeff decided to shift to a different tactic. He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. 

“So… Mudson, huh?” 

And just like that, your eyes sparked with life, like two little lightning bolts.

(Electric)

You placed your hand over your mouth and giggled. It was impish yet innocent, and it brought a much-needed smile to Jeff’s face. 

“So he mentioned it, huh?” you said, delighted by the thought. 

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “Yeah, he definitely did…” 

“It just kinda slipped out, you know? He showed up all wet and muddy, and my brain naturally mashed the two words together.” To illustrate this, you smashed your fist into your palm. Then you broke up into giggles again. “Oh my god, you should have seen his face, Jeff. He was so pissed!”

“Yeah, well… Eddie’s not having a very good day.” 

Your chest rose with a sharp breath. “Why? What happened?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jeff said, but he knew you would anyway. 

You fell back against your chair, dejected, and dropped your gaze to the floor. In a small, guilty voice, you said, “It really did slip out.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Jeff said. “Like I said, don’t worry about it, okay? It’s not because of you.” 

The rest of the students came trickling in and class finally began. 

Afterwards, while everyone was packing up and getting ready to go to lunch, you turned to Jeff and said, “Hey… uhh, you know that fantasy game you’re always playing?” 

“You mean D&D?” 

“Yeah, that one,” you said, and suddenly that strange, tingly feeling had returned. It had jumped off the chair and was now crawling up Jeff’s back like a big, hairy spider. He looked at you and wondered if you felt it, too. 

(Or maybe he was just losing his mind. Or having a stroke.) 

Jeff rolled his shoulders a few times, trying to rid himself of the feeling. Then he snatched his books and quickly headed for the door. You followed him out. 

“So, umm, hypothetically speaking, how would one go about joining? Like, is there an interview or an application process? Do you have to sacrifice your firstborn child? What’s the procedure here?” 

“Uhh, I dunno,” Jeff said. “Nobody’s ever really wanted to join before. Why? You interested?” 

“Kind of… I mean, it may have crossed my mind. You know, you just make it sound so interesting when you talk about it.”  

“Oh,” Jeff replied with a sly smile, “so I’ve piqued your interest, huh?” 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

Jeff nodded, still smiling. “And this has nothing to do with your massive crush on Eddie?” 

“No…” You paused, fell a few steps behind, and ran to catch up with him. “Is it that obvious?” 

“Well, not to Eddie. He thinks you hate him.” 

You cringed. “Yeah, we kinda got off on the wrong foot…” 

“Yeah, you got off on the wrong foot and just kept on walking, didn’t you?” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault! School really brings out the worst in me, you know? I can’t relax. I feel like I always have to be on the defensive. Middle school is basically hell on earth, and I’ve had to develop some really sharp edges in order to survive this place. Sometimes I cut people without meaning to. And he’s just so sensitive, Jeff. Every little comment sets him off.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s Eddie for you…” 

“A tragedy is what it is. He has all this potential, but he’s just wasting it! Right now he’s Bruce Banner, but he could be the Incredible Hulk if he wanted to.” 

Bruce Banner? The Incredible Hulk? Boy, Jeff was really starting to regret lending you his old comic books. 

“Look, Eddie doesn’t wanna be the Incredible Hulk, okay? He wants to be Bruce Banner. He just wants to blend in and be left alone.” 

“Well… too bad! I want him to be the Incredible Hulk. And don’t pretend like you don’t agree with me, Jeff. Eddie would be so much happier if he would just stop worrying about what everyone else thinks. He can do it when he’s playing guitar on stage. Why can’t he do it at school?”

“Because Eddie’s a very complicated person.” 

“I know. He’s fascinating.” You hugged your books close to your chest and let out a dreamy sigh. “I just don’t understand why he tries so hard to pretend he’s boring and normal. His crazy side’s way more entertaining. I’ve seen glimpses of it when he thinks nobody’s paying attention. Oh my god, Jeff, he’s such a little weirdo! He gets all dorky and hyper, but then he notices me watching him and, you know, runs away. It’s such a bummer. Like, stop teasing me with the trailers, Munson, just gimme the full show! It’s like he’s got a little monster hiding inside him, and I just wanna rip it out and unleash it on the whole town!” 

Jeff put his hand up to stop you. “Okay, don’t ever say that to him. Ever. Trust me, the last thing Eddie wants to hear is that you think he’s got a monster inside him.” 

You both turned at the end of the hallway. Jeff’s shoulder accidentally bumped against yours and he drew back suddenly, with a jerk. There it was again, that spine-tingling, unnerving feeling. Except this time it wasn’t in the air. It wasn’t clinging to his chair. This time it was radiating off you like some invisible force field. When Jeff touched your shoulder, he felt it surge through his whole body like a shock of static electricity.

“Oh my god,” he said, “you’re Eddie’s bad feeling!” 

You scrunched up your face. “What?” 

Jeff gave his back to you and broke into a near-jog. You chased after him, calling his name. 

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you, okay?” Jeff ripped open his locker and dumped everything inside. When he closed the door, you were standing on the other side, staring at him with confusion. “I mean, what do you think’s gonna happen, anyway? You think Eddie’s gonna wanna date you or something? Because I can tell you right now that’s never gonna happen.” 

A silent gasp escaped Jeff’s lips. You stared at him with a startled, wounded expression.

“Oh, damn it,” he said, and knocked his head against his locker door. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“Whatever.” You sniffed loudly and wiped your runny nose on the back of your hand. “I mean, you’re probably right, anyway. It’s not like I’m blind or stupid, Jeff. I know I’m not exactly the prettiest girl in school.” 

“Oh, come on, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Yeah, I know what you meant,” you said, and wiped your nose again. “Eddie’s fourteen and next year he’s going to high school. He’s not gonna be interested in dating some twelve-year-old, not even if she was a lot prettier than me. I know that. I’m not delusional or anything. I’ve already accepted that my parents had sex two years too late, okay? I’m not quite tall enough to ride that rollercoaster. That’s why I need some time to… well, you know…”

“Get taller?” Jeff said, cracking a smile. 

“Exactly,” you said, and giggled. “Look, I know Eddie doesn’t think very highly of me right now. I bet he thinks I’m really annoying, right?”

“Yeah… he called you the Antichrist this morning.” 

“See, that’s… Wait, he called me the Antichrist? Seriously? That’s what he thinks of me? I’m the spawn of Satan?” 

“Pretty sure he was just exaggerating.” 

“Yeah, that better be some crazy hyperbole ‘cause I dunno how I’m supposed to recover from that.”

You both laughed at that for a minute. Then you squeezed your hands into fists and gave him a pleading look.

“I just need time, Jeff, and right now I don’t have enough. School’s almost over and next year Eddie’s going to high school. He’s gonna be gone for two years while I’m trapped in this purgatory that is middle school. This summer’s my last chance to spend time with him. To make a good impression on him. Show him that I’m not the Antichrist. Holy shit, I still can’t believe he called me the Antichrist! Like, I know he doesn’t think much of me, but that seems a little harsh, doesn’t it?” You gave your head a shake and refocused. “But, hey, that’s okay. I can dig myself out of that hole. It might take me a while, but I’ll get there eventually. And then maybe, like in a few years or so, he’ll start to like me, too… maybe… but I’m not expecting anything. I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s definitely the ideal scenario, but I’ll settle for whatever I can get at this point. Shit, anything’s better than the Antichrist, right?”

You gave a helpless but hopeful shrug. Jeff rubbed the back of his neck, mulling it over. 

“You know you’re putting me in a tough spot here.” 

“I know.” 

“And Eddie’s really not gonna like this.” 

“I know.” 

Jeff sighed. “Okay,” he said, and your face lit up like the sky on the Fourth of July. “But listen to me: if I do this for you, if I stick my neck out for you, you have to promise to be on your best behavior, okay? You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into here. This isn’t just a game for us, especially not for Eddie. He takes his D&D very seriously. It’s like sacred to him. He’s not gonna like you goofing around.”

“I won’t goof around. I won’t, I won’t.” 

You did. 

A lot. 

Sorry, Eddie, Jeff thought, looks like your nightmare’s about to come true.

He walked into the cafeteria with his tray, found his friends sitting at their usual table, and sat down.

“Guys, I’m calling an emergency party meeting.”

Eddie’s whole body tensed with dread. “Why? What’s going on?”

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: swearing, talk of death

I sighed as I walked through the door, dropping the bag of clothes in the corner before kicking the door closed. I locked it and kicked off my shoes. I heard the tv get turned down as I wandered through the kitchen. I opened the fridge and stared into it for a minute before closing the door.

“I know you’re there Austin.” I said, straightening up and turning to lean against the counter. “Could feel you staring at my ass.” Austin smirked as he leaned against the doorway.

“Well when you give me that view.” He teased. He crossed his arms over his chest as I nodded. “That normally gets a response. What’s wrong?”

“just drained i think.” I shrugged. Austin walked into the kitchen and took my hand. He led me back to the living room. The tv was on mute, some hockey game playing. “Felt weird ya know?” I said once we were seated on the couch, Austin pulling me close and making me put my head on his shoulder. “Going through someone else’s shit. Especially when they just died. Feels like I’m invading their space or something. Stealing from them.”

“yeah. I get that.” Austin said, rubbing my arm. “But it’s what they wanted right? For you to take some stuff?” I nodded as I snuggled against him a little more. “You honored their wishes. Not a hell of a lot more you can do.”

“I know.” I muttered. “Still feels weird. Soon as I left I pulled over to get gas and went to wash my hands. Don’t feel dirty or anything. But just felt weird. Like something wasn’t right.” Austin kissed my forehead.

“what you gonna do with everything?” He asked.

“it’s mostly clothes so I figured donate them. They don’t fit me and I’d feel weird anyway. So someone might as well get some use out of it.” I shrugged, turning my head to rest against Austin’s neck. “I got a couple necklaces and rings I might wear. Otherwise I’ll just keep them safe. Maybe pass em down one day. I don’t know.”

“pass em down?” Austin asked. I nodded. He squeezed my shoulder with a small chuckle. “Gotta get working on that then.” I gently smacked his chest as he laughed.

“rude.” I giggled. Austin shrugged and pulled me closer. “I don’t know.” I finally sighed. “This took a lot more out of me then I expected. I don’t feel like cooking or doing much of anything honestly.”

“Good thing I already ordered some food then.” Austin said, sliding his hand under my shirt. His hand was warm and comforting against my side. “We can watch a movie tonight. Do nothing much of anything. If that’s what you want to do.” I pressed a kiss to Austin’s cheek.

“thank you Austin.” I said. “I love you so much.” Austin hummed before kissing me.

“I love you too.” He whispered against my lips. The doorbell rang and Austin groaned. “And that’ll be the food.” He pulled away and got off the couch. “Be right back.” He said, leaning down to kiss me before going to the door. I smiled at his back until I couldn’t see him anymore.

[unknownarmageddon]

Wrote a little proximity thing :] there’s not too much going on but I like it and I like them so. anyway

AU belongs to me and @denieatsart

Cross kicked an empty, rusted can so it clattered over the rubble he traversed. He crouched to rummage through a particularly promising looking pile of trash and debris, only to find nothing of value. He stood and moved to another, pushing through this one with the tip of his boot. 

         Silence hung over him as he worked. Unnatural silence. It had come with the bombs, when the hum of civilization was killed. The hum of its machines and inhabitants. Without that hum the buildings around him seemed stories taller than they had been before the bombs. Everything seemed so big with it being this empty and motionless. 

       As he was in the middle of untangling and bundling a wad of string he heard another pair of footsteps in the rubble. 

        He paused, froze, then whirled toward the source, muscle memory and habit urging him to pull his machete from its sheath. He thrust the weapon forward, the string entirely forgotten.

“Woah, woah! It’s just me, wolf.” Killer said hurriedly, stepping back from the blade. 

   Immediately upon registering that it was just him, Cross relaxed and returned the machete to its sheath. His face softened, and Killer’s did in turn.

“Find anything?” Cross asked.

Killer shoved hands into the pockets on his pants, searching. “Oh, yeah,”

“Anything useful.” Cross clarified, and Killer stopped to scowl at him. Cross’s eyes turned up in a grin that was mostly hidden by his scarf. 

   Killer removed his hands, and stuck them in the smaller pockets on either side of his hips. “I did find a big warehouse back there somewhere. Still had some stuff in it. If you’d consider that useful.” 

    Cross shifted his bag on his shoulder, nodded, and motioned for Killer to lead the way.

      He started down the main asphalt road that ran through the the city like a fault line. The silence followed them past the carcasses of storied buildings. 

      Almost immediately Killer then veered down an obscure alley way. 

     The alley was narrow. And dark. The only color was the chicken scratch graffiti over every surface that could be reached, spelling out profanities and who knows what else. The last cries of those who had survived the fall. 

       Even though Killer walked ahead and seemed to follow his own separate path with the way he zigzagged, he and Cross were tethered together by an unspoken cord. A safety line. Not of destiny. God, not of destiny. But of their own making. They both knew it was there, though they never mentioned it. Never spoke of what it meant. It was drawn thin, at times, but never severed. That cord ensured their ever-close proximity.

      From the alley, Killer climbed a rotting, discarded radiator to step past broken glass and through a window. 

     The apartment was almost entirely empty, save for rubble and trash. Cross scanned every corner and searched for anything remotely of value, though he knew someone else had cleaned it out long before.  

        A muddy watercolor wash of dirt and dust spread across every surface, seeped into the crevices.

The sound of Killer’s voice disrupted the silence. “Ran into some other scavengers around here.” 

“They put up a hell of a fight too. ‘m not hurt though. Not bad anyway. Just a bit scuffed.” Killer threw a grin over his shoulder at Cross, as if reassuring him before he got the chance to voice his worries. 

     Even so, Cross scanned Killer for injuries. He certainly was scuffed, though it was hard to tell the new from the old. His eye caught on a particularly bloody, except mostly dried, and particularly large tear in his sleeve. He’d have to mend that later.

“I’m sure you put up a hell of a fight, too.” Cross replied.

Killer laughed. He bounced on his feet to walk backward a moment, eyes sparkling at Cross’s. 

“‘Course I did. Sent ‘em running.” 

He turned back around in a similar motion. He pulled his knife from its sheath around his waist and twirled it between dexterous fingers. 

“How many?” Cross asked.

“Two? Maybe three, I dunno.” Killer responded.

Cross hummed, and nodded. He was glad his trust in Killer being able to handle himself was holding up. 

“It was the same guys from the other day, too. Guess they didn’t learn their lesson.” Killer continued. Cross listened to every word he said, glad to have his voice to disrupt the silence.

“If you see them again, get me.” Cross said.

Killer laughed. “Aw, wolf, I can handle ‘em just fine.”

“Mm.” 

Still, Cross didn’t want him being more reckless than he needed to be.

“You find anything good?” Killer asked now.

Cross was reminded of the string. “No.” 

“I guess I win then,” Even though Cross could only see his back, he was sure Killer was grinning to himself. 

“It’s not a competition, raccoon.” 

Killer turned his head to stick his tongue out at him. “Killjoy.” 

Cross chuckled, and then Killer laughed. 

“You gotta have some fun sometime, y’know? In a world this fucked over.” Killer added, a tint of solemn in his voice. 

A pause. Their shoes scuffed on the concrete below. 

“…Race you.” Cross decided.

    Killer looked at Cross like he had just recited the entire Declaration of Independence to him from memory. Then a grin split all the way across his face. 

“Yeah?” He asked eagerly. 

Cross nodded. 

     He shifted his bag again and picked up the pace, quickly overtaking Killer before he could start running.

       Killer sheathed his knife. He chased him through the rest of the room, past cries of despair painted in graffiti and crumbling windows showcasing the blotted out muddy sky. 

         Cross’s companion passed him and clambered through a rough hole that had been blown in the building’s wall. Cross lost sight of him as he followed through the gap, then caught sight of him again as he dropped down a broken off metal flight of stairs into another alley. 

       This alley was wider than the last, and just as cluttered by spray paint. The world was dead. Cross knew that well. But at least he and Killer were alive. Alive enough to still share something as menial and silly as a game of tag. Gotta have fun sometime. 

         Immediately Cross was running again to tail Killer as he glimpsed him turn a bend. When he passed the corner he saw Killer sitting atop a sheet of metal propped against a mound of rocky debris. Cross approached him, and Killer leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His soul whirred. It’s red light illuminated the alley with his triumph. 

“I win again.” Killer boasted as he jumped down from his perch to continue walking beside Cross.

“So you did.” Cross replied.

“Why don’t we do that more often? That was kinda fun.” Killer asked.

Cross paused to consider his response. He checked his surroundings. “…don’t get very used to it.”

“Killjoy.” Killer complained. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the ground.

     Through the alley, they past a handful of shoddy structures built like spider webs; made just for one night and then abandoned. They were wedged in corners and unnaturally made caves. Anywhere out of sight. 

        Distantly, the crackling of fire and the chatter of other people grew louder as they neared. Cross even saw the glow of their camp bouncing off stone. He couldn’t make out an exact location. He made the mental note to steer clear of the source.

Cross made a small hiss, a brief gesture, and Killer quickly picked up on their neighbors. 

   He nodded and detoured to push past a torn tarp, into the open bottom floor of another building. The voices got quieter. Though, they didn’t fade completely, and instead remained in the back of Cross’s mind. 

      This building was one of many that was a mystery how it stood upright. Countless craters and gaps and holes were windows for the murky hazel hue of the sky. The whole thing had fallen with the bombs, too, meaning everything was flipped sideways. So now this once-tall skyscraper was only a body in the dirt. 

      Cross and Killer traversed its entrails with little thought, as they had long since been desensitized to death. They had desensitized themselves, anyway. If one dwelled on the decimation it’d only make it unbearable. 

“Over here.” He called. He hadn’t shouted, but his voice was startlingly loud in the quiet, and it echoed off stone. 

Cross followed.

“We should be gettin’ close now. Couple feet, maybe.” Killer commented as he twirled the drawstrings of his jacket between his fingers. 

    Cross picked up his pace, so now he was beside his smaller companion. It occurred to him, based on how scattered their path was, they must be directly retracing Killer’s steps. Following the path he had taken hours before when he found the warehouse. 

        Suddenly Killer devolved into a short coughing fit. It was raspy, shaky, and made Cross press closer to him in uncertainty. 

“‘m fine.” Killer replied, but his soul wobbled and flickered. Cross wondered how bright it had been before the bomb-haze dimmed it. 

He coughed again. Cross extended his hand, then retracted it. Killer took it.

    They turned a corner, then another, went up a ladder and through another building, before Killer stopped abruptly at the doors to a rectangular, metal structure tucked between two apartment buildings. 

“Aaand Here it is.” Killer said, gesturing dramatically to the warehouse. His hand let go of Cross’s.

      The structure’s sign had fallen at some point, and now laid half buried in the debris littering the ground. The text had long been rusted off, and rust infested the rest of the structure’s edges. The few windows that remained even the slightest bit intact were dirtied and cloudy. 

    Killer moved to the side of the building, and nodded to the nearest window, which was now nothing more than an empty hole in the wall. “The roof’s caved in, blocks the door from inside. We gotta get in through here.” 

     Avoiding the bits of glass, Cross clambered through the window, and Killer was not far behind.

      The inside of the warehouse was only mildly in better condition than the exterior. The roof had indeed caved in, which at least allowed for a bit of light, though it did mean there was an unstable, several foot wide hole directly above their heads. 

       Cross unconsciously searched the rest of the building from where he stood. It was expansive, the roof was high, and it consisted of one singular room. Shelves and pallets lined the walls and formed aisles that went all the way up to the ceiling. On these shelves crates and boxes were stacked, many of which were torn and thrown to the ground. The evidence of previous visitors’ pillaging. 

“There’s probably still something useful in here, yeah?” Killer said and the newfound echo of his voice made Cross realize he had already left his side and was now weaving between aisles. 

        Cross caught up with him, and they dug through the remains. They talked as they did. Well, Killer did. Cross listened.

“This reminds me of when I was a kid.”        Killer commented from two shelves over. “When I’d be at home by myself and so I’d go running around old abandoned buildings with my buddies. Never found anything good in ‘em though.” 

    He held up a half-emptied package of soup cans. “Not quite the same now.”

   He pried a dented, though intact, can from the package. He tossed it to Cross, who added it to the bag he carried. 

     “You ever wish you could go back? To, y’know, before everything?” Killer asked. He retrieved another can that was also tossed to Cross. 

“…Sometimes.” Cross replied after a moment’s consideration. He had stopped thinking much about it once it became cumbersome. 

“Only sometimes?” Killer replied.

“Do you?” Cross looked at him. 

“Yeah.” Killer murmured. “If I could just… go back. I’d do it. In a heartbeat.”

He looked up at Cross, saw him. And then his eyes went soft with a newfound uncertainty. That look alone spoke a million sentences. 

    Mostly there was silence. 

      But it wasn’t like the vacant silence in the city. Because there was Killer. The shuffling of his shoes as he moved, the noises he’d make and the things he’s whisper to himself, his shaky breathing, his coughing, the way he’d fidget with his knives and drawstrings. The humming of his soul. All sounds that indicated his presence. 

       And, there was the silent, always ongoing conversation between them. There were the glances that they’d give each other, the gestures. Every little thing they silently spoke. Everything they understood like it was second nature. Because at that point it was. 

This silence was comfortable. Normal. 

        They moved through the building quickly. Cross surveyed their surroundings. Killer threw him cans and made conversation. This was their process, that they did day in day out. 

 “Hey, check this out.” Killer called. At that moment he was standing staring up at a rusted, folded metal ladder that led up to a hatch in the ceiling.

“Think that goes anywhere?” He asked. 

     He didn’t wait for a response before he kicked at the ladder and it clattered the rest of the way to the floor. He nodded to Cross and, one after the other, they climbed it. 

        Killer forced through the hatch at they top and they clambered into the much smaller room that sat above the warehouse. The far wall had crumbled away almost entirely, making for a good view of the city. 

         There was very little in that room. Either it had been cleared out already, or it had been abandoned long before the bombs. 

        It wasn’t quite as decimated as the outside, either. Like it was its own little pocket away from the ruin, barely touched by it. 

      Killer was the first to move. He started wandering the space. “The hell’s this even for?”

Cross didn’t know. And he didn’t care to know.

    He slid his bag off his shoulder, and dropped it beside him as he sat against a wall. He crossed his legs, and Killer, pulled by their invisible tether, wandered back over to him. 

      When his companion joined him Cross passed one of their spoils to him. Killer stabbed the can open with his knife and lifted the edge to his mouth to drink its contents like a beverage. 

        Cross opened his own can, and together there they sat, eating almost tasteless cold soup from battered cans. The darkness of the attic sat over them. The silence of the city bled through the hole in the wall, but Killer’s silence made it bearable. 

Better than starving, at least. Though there was a gap neither of them spoke of, but knew. The gap were a nice dinner with nice food in a nice restaurant, just the two of them, would’ve filled. Something they couldn’t get back.

But it was better than starving.

        Killer leaned against Cross, legs tucked to his chest. His can had long since been crushed and discarded. Cross, in turn, leaned his head on him. His face was brush by the fur of Killer’s jacket and scratched by the twigs tangled in it. Killer’s body was cold on his, but his soul was warm. 

“I think there’s some more backrooms down there we haven’t checked.” Killer commented. He gazed absently at the hole in the wall. 

   He coughed again. Cross’s arm went around him. For a moment Killer’s soul flickered brighter and hummed with his. 

“Play me somethin’” Killer asked. 

     Cross reached for his ukulele, and pulled it from where he had attached it to one of his bag’s straps. The instrument was in surprisingly good condition, though it was scraped and dirtied in places. It was one of his few materialistic belongings he actually cared for in a way other than necessity. It was oddly pretty, in some way. Something of meaning in the sea of garbage.

He held the ukulele and plucked at its strings absently. “Anything specific?”

“Play what you played the other day,” Killer responded. He settled further against Cross. 

Cross dug through his memory of previous days. He strummed a chord, and another. He looked at Killer.

    The flickering of Killer’s soul evened out. He nodded. “Yeah.. yeah, that.” He murmured. 

    Cross continued with the ditty; a melody with a mellow tempo composed of the strumming of calloused fingers. Though, it wasn’t without energy. Killer had said the night Cross first played it that it sounded like porch music. It was the warm firefly-lit nights from before the bombs. When the wild grass would sway with the wind. It brought back those buried memories, and disrupted the city-silence.

      Killer relaxed against him. Cross hadn’t realized he was tensed. Cross’s eyes focused on his fingers and the instrument, but he was aware of Killer’s proximity to him. 

    A second sound joined the ukulele. Killer’s quiet, rough humming. 

[aangelichaos]

Sweet

Summary: Helping pre-outbreak Joel bake some cookies for a bake sale at Sarah’s school (Spoiler alert: He’s a terrible baker)

Rating: G

Word count: 1.8K

Warnings: One slightly suggestive part, other than that it's just fluff

A/N: I’m gonna be writing a lot of Joel x reader stuff so get used to it. Also requests are open so if you have anything for me to write please tell me, coming up with ideas is hard

Knock knock.

You groan, getting up from the cough and walking to the door. You open it to see Sarah Miller, your boyfriend’s daughter. “Sarah? What are you doing here? Where’s Joel?”

“Please help,” she pleads. “He’s trying to bake some cookies for the bake sale at school tomorrow, and it is not going well. You’re a good baker, can you please come help him?” She gives you her best puppy dog eyes.

You can’t help but snicker as you imagine Joel trying to bake. He’s probably covered in flour, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the kitchen smells like smoke. “Yeah, I’ll be over in a minute.” You quickly run upstairs to change out of your pajamas and throw your hair back into a ponytail. You come back downstairs to see Sarah still waiting for you, and you throw on your shoes. “Let’s go.”

When you walk in, things don’t look much better than you had imagined. The house does, in fact, have a smoky scent to it, and Joel has quite a few smudges of various ingredients on his clothes. You can’t stop yourself from laughing at it all.

“Sarah!” Joel yells. “Why did you-“ He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turns to you. “I am so sorry, you weren’t meant to see this.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Sarah asked me to come over and help, and I told her I was happy to.” You reassure him, sensing that he’s embarrassed. “It’s no problem, really.”

Joel glares at Sarah, and she just shrugs before turning to leave. “I’m gonna go do my homework. Have fun! Don’t burn down the house.”

“Hey!” Joel shouts as she runs upstairs. He looks back to you. “Look, I’m sorry for this. I don’t need your help. I got it under control.”

You raise your eyebrows at him.

Joel sighs. “Fine. Maybe I need a little help.” He looks embarrassed.

You smile at him. “Joel, it’s okay. You can’t be amazing at everything, it’s perfectly fine if you need help.” You press a kiss to his cheek. “Plus, you know I like baking. This’ll be fun.”

He nods. “Yeah, okay.” He gestures to the mess of a kitchen. “I was, uh… tryin’ to make some chocolate chip cookies, but obviously that didn’t really work out.” He chuckles. “They were still all gooey when the timer went off, so I left ‘em in for a few minutes longer and they were practically burnt to a crisp.”

You nod. “It happens. I’ve done it a few times myself.” You look around at the ingredients strewn about the counter. “You think we have enough ingredients here to make another batch? Or do I need to grab some stuff from my house?”

“There should be enough here. But I don’t trust myself enough to say for sure at this point, so you should probably check,” he responds, laughing lightly.

After a moment of looking through the various bags and containers, you turn back to him. “Looks good. Let’s get started,” you say. “First things first, let’s clean off these dirty baking tools.”

Joel nods. “Ah, right.” He grabs everything off the table and dumps them in the sink. Within minutes, everything is washed up. “You preheat the oven, and I’ll dry these off, ‘k?” he says, grabbing some paper towels.

“Sir, yes sir!” you shout, giving him a salute. He looks at you with an amused expression before turning back to what he was doing, laughing to himself. You smile and turn to the oven, preheating it to 350°. “Alright, cowboy. You go ahead and tell me what we need next.”

“Uh… says we need to mix together flour, salt, and baking soda,” he says.

You grab the mixing bowl and measuring tools and join him, placing them on the counter. “Two and a quarter cups of flour,” you read. You place the measuring cups into his hand. “Go for it.” You watch as he struggles to fill the measuring cup, spilling flour. “Wow, don’t quit your job to become a baker.”

“Shut the hell up,” he mutters, now attempting to smooth out the flour with a butter knife. Not surprisingly, he slips and ends up hitting himself in the face with flour, coughing. You wince. Poor guy really can’t bake.

“You want me to do it?” You ask, patting his back.

He shoves the measuring cup into your hand without hesitation. “Here, take it.” He grabs a glass of water for himself to ease the coughing as he watches you scoop and level out the flour with ease. How do you make it look so easy? He asks you as much, leaning against the counter.

You shrug. “I dunno. Practice, I guess.” You finish measuring and mixing the dry ingredients, not daring to hand the measuring cup back to him. Not that he would take it, anyways. “Here, how ‘bout you try the next step? All you have to do is soften some butter in the microwave and mix in some sugar. I can get the sugar for you, if you want."

He nods. "I can do that." He looks at the cookbook. "Alright, two sticks of butter..." He grabs the butter from the fridge, unwrapping the sticks and placing them into a bowl. "How long do these go in the microwave?"

You look up from mixing the dry ingredients. "Put it in for 30 seconds at a time till it's soft enough."

"Alright." He turns to the microwave and places the bowl inside, setting the timer to 30 seconds like you said. "Hey, uh... thanks for this."

“Hm? Oh, yeah, no problem.” You wave your hand dismissively. “You don’t gotta thank me, I’m more than happy to help.”

He sighs. “I know, it’s just… I dunno, I feel kinda silly, I guess. For God’s sake, I’m a grown ass man, and I can’t even make cookies for my daughter’s bake sale without nearly burnin’ down the house.”

You laugh a bit at that. “It’s okay to not be great at everything, hon. Baking can be difficult, I don’t blame you for having trouble.” You turn to him and rest your hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. “I want to be here, Joel. I’m having fun. So stop worrying about it. Okay?”

He grins at that, giving you a quick kiss. “Okay, darlin’.”

“Great. Now that butter isn’t gonna heat itself, cowboy. Get to work,” You say, playfully smacking his arm.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

After a lot of spilling ingredients on Joel’s part and reassurance on yours, the two of you finally get the cookies into the oven. You lean against the counter and sigh happily. “Alright, now all we gotta do is wait.” You turn to Joel and find him staring at you. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Before you can say another word, he surges toward you and presses his lips to yours. You smile against his lips as you immediately wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back.

You pull away momentarily, giggling when he whines and chases your lips. “What’s all this for?” you laugh.

“Just really like you,” he mumbles, leaning in again. He grabs the backs of your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter as he presses sweet kisses to your lips.

You pull him closer, kissing him back with equal eagerness. It feels so nice to kiss him like this. No distractions, no interruptions-

“Oh, gross.” Never mind. You and Joel pull away from each other immediately. Joel backs away from the counter as you hop down, both of you blushing furiously.

“Hey, honey…” Joel starts, trying to pretend as if nothing ever happened.

Sarah looks between you and Joel with a wrinkled nose. “Next time you guys wanna share spit, do it someplace where I won’t see it.”

Joel gives her a stern look. “Sarah, please. Don’t make this more embarrassin’ than it already is.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. But I don’t wanna see that again. So, are the cookies almost done? And edible?”

You laugh as Joel glares at her. “Yes, Sarah. They’ll be out in about five minutes, and they’ll be delicious. Your father tried very hard, so I think you should thank him.”

Sarah turns to him. “Thanks, Dad.” She then looks to you. “And thank you for making the cookies.”

Joel groans. “That’s it. Sarah, out. Go.. I dunno, do something that isn’t here.”

She crosses her arm and sticks out her tongue at him before leaving and heading back up to her room.

“Christ, that child can be a real handful,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair. “I’m real sorry ‘bout that, I don’t know why she feels the need to act this way.” He look at you apologetically.

“Ah, I think it’s funny.” You smile at him, placing one last kiss to his lips. “Why don’t you come over to my house after Sarah goes to bed tonight? We won’t be interrupted there…”

“Sounds good to me,” he mutters lowly, desire in his gaze as he leans closer.

Before either of you can say another word, the oven starts beeping.”Oh!” You grab an oven mitt and pull the baking sheet out, setting it on the stove.

Joel whistles. “They look delicious, hon.” He kisses your cheek. “Thanks again for helpin’ out. Really ‘preciate it.”

You smile. “No problem, cowboy.”

Soon enough, Sarah smells the unmistakable scent of freshly baked cookies and comes downstairs. “Oooh, yummy!” She tries to grab one.

Joel smacks her hand away. “Hey, those are hot. And they ain’t for you anyway.”

“Yeah, but we need to make sure they taste good,” she argues.

“No,” Joel says sternly.

Sarah stares at him for a moment. “Fine. Okay.” She turns to leave, then pauses for a second. “Just kidding.” She grabs a cookie and bolts out of the room, cackling as she runs up the stairs.

Joel sighs, and you can’t help but laugh. “It’s just one cookie, sweetheart. We have plenty more.”

He laughs too. “This was just the beginning. If I don’t hide them from her, they’ll all be gone by tomorrow morning.” He chuckles. “Anyways, uh… thanks for stoppin’ by to help. Um.. I’ll see you tonight?”

“You don’t expect me to leave without helping you clean up this mess, do you?” I smile. “C’mon, you know me better than that.”

“Eh, I got it. Did it to myself. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” He presses a kiss to your cheek.

“But-“ you try to protest.

“Or else I’m not comin’ over tonight.” He smirks, knowing he got you.

You glare at him. “Fine. Ten o’clock, okay?”

He grins. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, gorgeous. I’ll see you then.” And with one more kiss and a light nibble to your ear, he send you out the door. “See you later, sweetheart!” He shouts from the door.

You wave at him, grinning. “See you!” You walk back to your house, head filled with fantasies of whatever tonight would entail.

[eriquin]

The Trolley Problem, part 45

El uses her powers to make contact with the Upside Down. They have a narrow escape, and then another one, and then a tense conversation.

(master post)

Wayne had brought a bucket of fried chicken and biscuits to the cabin. Steve could smell it as he walked up. He let himself inside and saw El sitting on the floor, devouring a drumstick. Her chin was covered in grease and there were bones on the floor in front of her showing that she’d already eaten at least two other pieces. 

Wayne had his shotgun across his lap, pointed away from El. He nodded at Steve and turned back to watching through the window. “Heard you drive up,” Wayne said. “Help yourself to some chicken.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. He sat down on the floor next to El and fished a thigh out of the bucket. “I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

Between the three of them, they polished off the bucket. Steve wrapped the biscuits in a napkin so that El could tuck them into her pocket for later. She was still a mess, but the kitchen sink worked and he made her wash her face before they left. He said something about how Carol would have his head for letting her get messy in the first place.

“How many kids know about what’s going on?” Wayne asked. “Other than you and Ellie here. And Eddie, of course.” 

Steve had to stop to count. “There’s four boys around El’s age. I’m trying to keep them out of it, but the demogorgon came after Will, so I couldn’t keep him from knowing. And of course he told the rest of them. Tommy and Carol showed up right after, so they know. Jonathan is Will’s brother, and he took pictures of the demogorgon for us. Oh, I need to hide those.” He found his backpack and pulled the pictures out. 

Wayne and El both wanted to take a look, so Steve let them hold onto them while he searched for a good hiding place. He found a box labeled ‘Grandpa’ which was full of photo albums, and decided that would work. Wayne had gone a little pale when he saw the demogorgon in the picture, but he nodded and straightened up as he handed the pictures back over. El didn’t seem fazed by it at all.

“Is Carol the girl in the pictures?” he asked. 

“No, that’s Robin. It chased her through the woods before we... Well, you saw the pictures.” 

“But she’s all right?” Steve nodded. “Did you kill it?” 

He frowned. “No, we didn’t. It got away.” He let out a tired sigh. “They’re pretty hard to kill.” He slipped the pictures back into their envelope and put it between two photo albums in the box, then put the box back on top of the stack.

Once that was done, he continued his explanation. “Some other stuff today, too. Nancy got suspicious about stuff, and she saw the photos. Her friend, Barb, was out in the woods with Robin. She got hurt and went to the hospital, so we didn’t have a chance to tell her what was going on. When Nancy tried to go talk to her about it, she was gone. We don’t know where. We think the lab might’ve done something to her and her family.” 

El hung her head and hugged her arms around her chest. “Bad men,” she said softly.

“Hey, now,” Wayne said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right. We’re not gonna let ‘em find you, darlin’.” 

“Yeah, we don’t know what happened,” Steve said. “Nancy’s going to find out, though. She’s real tough, Nancy. You’ll like her.” 

With the photo hidden and the food cleaned up, they decided to head back to the trailer park. El rode with Wayne, and Steve waited a little bit before following, worried that someone would see them coming out of the road to the cabin. It would be better if the place stayed a secret. 

There were two different ways to get to Forest Hills, and Steve figured that Wayne would go south instead of north. It was longer, and went all the way around the town, but it didn’t pass through any neighborhoods so there was less of a chance for someone to see El in his truck. Steve went north instead. He came out of the woods and turned onto the street that cut through town. Coming up the other way were a pair of white vans with blue writing on the side. He only realized that they were from the lab after they went past, but once he did, his heart started to race. 

He had to pull over and catch his breath. Part of him wanted to turn around and make sure they weren’t going after Wayne, or going to Hopper’s cabin. But they were already long past, and he didn’t see which way they went. It would look suspicious if he followed them around, and if he dawdled much longer, he would be late getting to Forest Hills. He pulled back out into the street and kept driving. 

It was well past dark when he got to the park, but he knew the way. He hadn’t been back since the last time he’d been to visit Eddie, which wasn’t that long ago, but felt like a lifetime. Eddie’s van was there. Wayne must have gotten it from where they’d left it, near Dustin’s house. Wayne’s truck was parked next to it, and there were lights on in the trailer. He parked behind the truck and started walking around it. 

One of the streetlights further down the road distracted him when it flickered. He flinched and stared, but it didn’t flicker again. The electricity to the park might have been kind of flaky, and that could explain it, but with all the Upside Down stuff going on right now, it had him on edge. He looked back at the trailer. The living room lights blinked, too. Already geared up to worry, he ran to the door. 

Inside, Wayne and El were sitting in front of a little radio. El had a blindfold on and her nose was bleeding. The living room lights were blinking, but not with the frantic flashing of an imminent monster attack. Instead, they were doing so gently, in time to the voice on the radio. 

“Uncle Wayne?” Eddie’s voice asked. “Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah, kid,” Wayne said. His voice cracked a little. “I’m right here. Where are you?” 

Steve felt a little dizzy and realized that he was holding his breath. “Eddie?” he gasped. “You’re alive.” 

The radio crackled with static. “I’m in the trailer,” he said. “But it’s all wrong. All of Hawkins is wrong. I don’t know how to get back.”

“We know, kid,” Wayne said, loud and clear. “We’re gonna figure out how to get you home.”

Something behind Steve caught his eye. He turned and looked through the open door. The streetlights in the park were flickering more now, and the lights in the closest trailers were doing the same. It wasn’t the friendly blinking of a human in the Upside Down, either. “Shit,” he said. “Shit, it’s coming here. Eddie! It’s the demogorgon!”

There was more static from the radio, and Eddie’s voice sounded far away. “Steve?” he asked. “Is that you?”

Steve scrambled forward, leaving the door open. “Eddie! The lights!” 

A loud squeal came from the radio speaker, and then a pop and it sparked. Wayne reached over and yanked the plug from the wall before it sparked any more. He pulled El back from it, too. Her hands were shaking as she pushed the blindfold off.

Steve kept shouting for Eddie to run. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. The lights in the trailer were going crazy. There was a terrible crackling sound, and the wall near the front of the trailer started to buckle. 

He spun around, looking for a weapon. Wayne’s shotgun was nowhere to be seen. “Shit, where are your knives?”

“Are you crazy, son?” Wayne yelled at him. He scooped El off the ground and grabbed Steve with his other hand, dragging him towards the door. Steve stumbled and followed him. The wall started to tear, and the demogorgon let out a horrible screech as they jumped down the stairs and into the yard. 

They ran away from the trailer, with Wayne still carrying El, and only stopped when they got to the picnic table. The lights kept flickering for a moment, then everything went dark. All the lights in the park had gone out. Steve stood back to back with Wayne, sandwiching El between them. “Where is it?” he hissed. 

Just as quickly as it had started, it all stopped. The lights around the park came back on, and there was no monster to be seen. Up the road, though, they could see headlights coming their way. 

“Maybe they’ll keep driving,” Steve said. 

“Hm. Can’t take that chance,” Wayne said. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood off El’s face. “Remember what we talked about, darlin’? You go hide in the woods until it’s clear, all right?” 

El nodded, then started running for the woods behind the trailer park. Steve started to protest, but it stuck in his throat when he realized he knew the vehicle pulling in next to his car. It was Hopper’s Jeep, and the man climbed out of it looking annoyed. He didn’t give any indication that he’d seen El. 

“Hey, Wayne,” Hopper said, eyeing Steve suspiciously. “You been out looking for your boy?” 

“I have,” Wayne said. “How’ve you been doing?”

“I’ve had better weeks.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lit one up. “What’re you doing here, Harrington? Doesn’t seem like your kind of neighborhood.”

Steve felt his face slip into a blank mask. “I was looking for Eddie,” he said. “That’s all.”

“You a friend of his?”

He knew he took too long to respond. “Yeah. We’re friends,” he said. He was pretty sure Hopper would think he was just there looking for drugs, and not involved in whatever happened, but maybe not. He considered that it might be a good time to tell him more about what was going on.

The idea dropped out of his head almost as fast as it came, because coming up the road behind Hopper were a pair of white vans from the lab. They might have been the same he’d seen on the road, but Steve couldn’t tell. He stiffened up and glared at the men in suits that piled out of them. Wayne made himself look busy lighting up a cigarette of his own. It let him cover his mouth as he whispered to Steve. “Terrible disguise, putting suits in work vans.” 

Steve gave him just a tiny nod. He couldn’t help but continue to glare at them. It made sense now that Wayne had warned El to run into the woods. That was good thinking on his part. 

Hopper seemed to recognize the vans as well. “Still tracking down those power grid issues, I take it?” he asked one of the men. 

Steve had no idea who the man was, and he didn’t introduce himself. “We got reports of surges in this park,” he said. He looked around. If there were other people in the park, they were content to watch from inside of their trailers. Wayne, Steve, and Hopper were the only ones here. He singled out Wayne with his next question. “Have you seen any unusual electrical activity around here tonight?”

Wayne took a deep drag from his cigarette. “Sure,” he said. “We’ve been having power surges for ages now. Can’t run the washer and the TV at the same time or you put all the lights out. Gotta say, it’s nice of y’all to show up to look into it.” He gestured down the hill. “Pretty sure the transformers are down that-a-way, if you want to take a look. Now, we have a park handyman, but he ain’t one of them certified electricians. You might want to have your boys make sure it’s all up to code now.” 

The man looked in the direction Wayne pointed. “I see,” he said. He went back to his colleagues and started talking quietly with them.

Hopper came closer to them. He leveled a glare at Steve. “I sent someone by your house today, Harrington,” he said, gruff but quiet enough that the suits from the lab wouldn’t hear him. “Your parents aren’t happy that you didn’t come home after school, and they’ve got a world of questions about the scorch marks in your backyard.”

“I told you what happened there,” Steve said. He kept looking past Hopper’s shoulder at the men by the vans. “It’s just... I’ll go home eventually.”

“Jesus, Harrington. Did those guys run over your dog or something?” Hopper muttered. Steve looked back at him, then at Wayne. “You look like you want to murder them with your mind. What’s up with that?”

Steve grunted and shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I just don’t trust ‘em.”

“They’re from Hawkins Lab, you know,” Hopper said. 

“I know.”

“You got a reason not to trust Hawkins Lab?” 

Steve snorted. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “They’re a bunch of lying spooks.”

The men from the lab finished whatever discussion they were having and got back in their vans. One turned around and started back out of the park, while the other kept going down the road, towards where Wayne had pointed. Steve relaxed a little after they left.

Hopper took another drag of his cigarette. “Now, why would you think they’re lying, Harrington?”

Steve glanced back at Wayne. “I mean. They say they’re out here investigating power surges, but they’re not exactly dressed like electricians. Also, who’s out working this late at night? The whole thing stinks.” 

This made Hopper smirk a little at him from behind the cigarette. “That’s a decent observation there, kid,” he said, “but you really shouldn’t be out here this late. We’ve got an epidemic of missing teenagers, you know.”

“I know,” Steve said, not bothering to keep the derision out of his voice. “I’m out here looking for one of them.”

“So you know that Munson’s missing?” 

“Duh,” Steve said. Wayne gave him a sideways glance and then looked back towards the woods. He frowned back and scuffed his shoes in the dirt. “Man, it feels like I snuck around the back of the gym to gossip, with you two standing around smoking. Are you looking for him? He went missing before Heather’s party, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hopper said. “We’re doing the best we can. Spread kind of thin here. Three teenagers have disappeared, plus a couple more hunters never came back from their last trip.” He sighed and looked down the lane, towards where the white vans had gone. “Plus those dickwads driving around, looking for God-knows-what. And that’s not even getting into what happened to Benny.” He looked over at Wayne and jerked his thumb at Steve. “You tell him about that?”

“He already knew,” Wayne said. “Kids talk, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Hopper said. “Kid, is there something you want to tell me about, maybe?”

Steve sighed and looked around. It was too open here, and the lab had been too close. “There’s lots I’d love to tell you about, Hop,” he said. “I can’t, though. You wouldn’t believe me.” 

“Try me.”

He shook his head. “Not here. Though, if you’re still the guy I think you are, you’re halfway to it already.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked back towards the woods one last time. “Think the lab’ll follow me home if I leave?”

“Probably,” said Wayne. “You’re acting awful suspicious.”

“Damn it,” Steve said. He turned back to Hopper. “You should check some of your granddad’s old things. Bet you’d find something interesting there.”

Hopper straightened up, surprise evident on his face. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked. “What do you know, kid?”

“You wouldn’t believe me without proof,” Steve said. “Besides, it’s late. I should head home. My parents are probably going to ground me, you know?” He gave them a little wave as he headed back to his car.

Taglist: @neonfruitbowl